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#but i very much enjoyed writing this
glo-shroom · 2 months
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yes & no by Natalie Wee | Trigun Ultimate Overhaul
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inky-duchess · 4 months
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Fantasy Guide to Interiors
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As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.
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Interior Design Terms
Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.
Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.
Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.
Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.
Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.
Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.
Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.
Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.
Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.
Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.
Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.
Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.
Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.
Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.
Niche: A sunken area within a wall.
Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.
Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.
Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.
Façade: front portion of a building
Lintel: Top of a door or window.
Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns
Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building
Skirting: border around lower length of a wall
Ancient Greece
Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.
Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.
Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.
Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.
Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.
Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.
Ancient Rome
Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.
Ancient Egypt
Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.
Ancient Africa
African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.
Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.
Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.
Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal
Japanese Interiors
Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.
Common features of Japanese Interior Design:
Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition
Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.
Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.
Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.
Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.
Islamic World Interior
The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.
Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)
The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.
Indian Interiors
India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.
The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.
Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.
Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.
Chinese Interiors
Common features of Chinese Interiors
Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.
Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.
Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).
Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.
Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.
Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.
Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.
Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.
Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.
Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.
Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)
Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.
Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)
The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.
Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)
Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.
Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)
The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.
Tudor Interior (1485-1603)
The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.
Baroque (1600 to 1750)
The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.
Victorian (1837-1901)
We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.
Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)
This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.
Art Deco (1920s-1930s)
The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.
Modernism (1930 - 1965)
Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.
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panthermouthh · 7 months
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And I said, “Hello, Satan
I believe it’s time to go.”
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otaku553 · 9 months
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Haha
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ikeasharksss · 1 year
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hey im curious
feel free to rb & explain your answer in the tags!
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imminent-danger-came · 10 months
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Sun Wukong Knew About MK the Whole Time: A Theory
I am currently hyped up on leftovers and iced coffee, so let's do this!
I've talked about this before, here and here, but I think it's finally time I wrote an official post. You can go and read those posts if you want to (I definitely hit the nail on the head with some of this stuff), but I will be compiling a lot of what I said on those posts here!
So. Let's get the Mr. Elephant out of the room first: The David Breen Tweets. (thread here).
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I see this tweet mentioned a lot whenever I bring up SWK knowing about MK, and honestly, this is a far cry from the "it's been confirmed that SWK didn't know" definite answer everyone's been implying.
So let's break it down!
#1: "Monkey King ain't the father"/"Monkey King isn't his dad." Well of course! Being born from a stone means you don't have any parents. I see it like this: Wukong isn't MK's dad, but he's also not NOT MK's dad, it's a secret third thing (creator and creation). Or, perhaps Wukong didn't help create MK at all, but he at the very least was involved in the circumstances that lead to MK being created/being born from the stone. (Aka eldritch abomination MK theory. My Beloved. Okay sorry.)
#2: "Monkey King was ripping his way through memories looking for MK, but kept coming back to the stone. He doesn't know why." So, while Wukong was ripping through memories, he didn't know why the scroll kept spitting him out by the stone. This is not a confirmation that Wukong didn't know about MK and his origins. It also begs the question: how did Wukong know MK was in the scroll to begin with? There's also some speculation to be had about why Wukong was so desperate to find MK to begin with:
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MK: "Monkey King did this?" Macaque: "It looks like he's been tearing his way through his past—trying to find his way to.." MK: "Me."
(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)
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What was he so afraid of MK finding? Or, what was he afraid the scroll would force MK to experience? I think these are questions worth asking.
#3: "Wukong's trying real hard to leave the 'not being open with MK' days behind after s3. Problem is he's got lifetimes of info to catch them up on." Well, this one is a DOOZIE. One: we already know MK doesn't know everything about Wukong and his choices because he doesn't know Wukong killed Macaque (thank you 4x11). Two: "trying real hard" and "successfully doing" are very different things. And three: YOU DON'T JUST DROP INFO LIKE "Hey, did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" ON TOP OF SOMEONE RANDOMLY. Especially not MK. You have to prepare them for it.
Wukong is trying to do better and be better for everyone around him, but that still takes work. That still isn't easy. He's still going to make mistakes, which means he's not going to always go about being open with MK in the best way.
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Sun Wukong: “Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?”
(4x01 Familiar Tales)
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This scene—to me—feels like Wukong is trying prepare MK for his eventual "Hey did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" conversation he wants (and needs) to have down the line. Yes, SWK is trying to be more open with MK, but he's also just not going to be given that chance before the truth comes out.
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MK: "Yeah right, if Monkey King really was my dad don't you think he would have said something by now?" Mei: "Yeah...because he's normally SOOOOO forth coming with information." MK: "Well uh, whatever—when we find Monkey King's stone, then we'll just ask him!"
(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)
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Notice how they never asked Monkey King that question? From a writing standpoint, why bring this up at all if it wasn't to imply that (even if Monkey King isn't MK's dad) he wasn't involved with MK's creation in some way?
ANYWAYS.
NOW THAT THE BREEN TWEET THAT HAS RUINED MY LIFE IS OUT OF THE WAY, let's get into the evidence given to us throughout the entirety of the show. Starting with this:
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This isn't a scene that takes place during the "A Hero is Born" special, as I'm sure plenty of people have noticed before now. Of course, this could have just been Monkey King "scouting out a successor", but with everything we know now doesn't that...feel kinda weird?
We were told at the beginning of the show that Monkey King gave MK his powers, but now we know that's not true. MK has had his own powers this whole time—and that's something Wukong, at the very least, knew:
Sun Wukong: "Listen kid: You fought demons, and you didn't die, and you made it here! Not just anyone can lift my staff, but you did." (1x00 A Hero is Born)
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MK: "This whole time, I thought my powers came from the staff! Sun Wukong: "The staff's just a big 'ol stick bud! It takes someone special to lift it." (3x03 Smartie Kid)
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There's also 1x09 Macaque, which I have mentioned before:
Macaque: "Ohohoh no, can't you hold the magic staff anymore? Well, you know what that means—there really isn't anything special about you. You're just a kid with a heavy stick."
This scene is then followed by MK lifting the staff, which only happens because Wukong encourages him.
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MK: "Ugh, I can't! I'm not strong enough." Sun Wukong: "Kid! We're definitely going to have words later, but it's time for the Hero Stuff!"
(1x09 Macaque)
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Ultimately, Wukong knows MK can lift the staff again even after Macaque supposedly stole all of MK's powers. He knows MK can beat DBK (more on that later). He does something similar to all this in 3x14, being the one to let MK face the Lady Bone Demon, powered by the Samadhi fire, alone (even after Pigsy tries to stop MK):
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Wukong want's to protect MK. That's why he went to face the Lady Bone Demon alone in the first place—but here, he let's MK stop the end of the world all by himself. Why would he let his beloved student face not only LBD, but a reality ending flame alone?
Because he knows how much power MK has. Because he knows MK is capable of doing it.
This all brings me to my main point: If before now we were supposed to believe that Monkey King gave MK his powers, and he so clearly didn't, how would Wukong not know he didn't give MK powers. And because he clearly knew he didn't give MK any powers, why would he not question where this kid's insane level of power came from? He had to have "chosen" MK to be his successor for a reason right?
ESPECIALLY because Wukong never planned on being a mentor in the first place:
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Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly, I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry MK. For all of it."
(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)
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This was also alluded to in 3x05 Amnesia Rules:
Pigsy: "Of COURSE you don't remember the kid—one day you are going to grow up to be a terrible mentor!" Sun Wukong: "Ha! Zhu Bajie, can you imagine me teaching someone? HA!"
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So, Wukong clearly didn't ever want to become a mentor, and this directly contradicts what Wukong says to MK in "A Hero is Born":
Sun Wukong: "You're perfect!" MK: "Perfect for what?" Sun Wukong: "To be...my successor!"
Honestly, think about it: has Wukong ever once actually needed a successor? When given the opportunity, he goes off and tries to handle things on his own anyways (Leaving in s2, wanting to go and reforge the Samadhi Fire on his own, going to stop LBD alone). It's the classic "we're being told one thing and shown another" trick.
Sun Wukong: "No no no- in case you forgot I'M retired, you're the one supposed to be taking care of the bad guys." (1x01 Bad Weather)
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Even in 2x01 he's lying:
Sun Wukong: "Aw, come on bud! I promised myself that when I found a successor I'd go see some friends, take a tour of my old stomping grounds, just cut loose you know?" (2x01 Sleep bug)
It's proven in the next episode, and by the fact that all of his friends are dead/gone, that literally nothing he said here is true.
And, it's also note worthy to point out, that by this point Wukong had already disappeared for hundreds of years. Why step in again at all? Why put the effort into getting a successor you definitely were never prepared to have?
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MK: "*sigh* You think Monkey King ever felt like this? Maybe that's why he stayed up on this mountain, just having a good time with you guys. You know cause- cause he knew he'd be out of the way where he couldn't hurt anyone he cared about." Macaque: "Or, he was doing his usual Wukong thing and being a lazy peach eating idiot. Ignoring all the worlds problems.
(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)
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So, I don't know about you, but I'm going to trust Macaque's insight on this. I'm not sure Wukong ever planned on coming back. Sealing DBK, he effectively cut off one of his last ties to the world (please go read wlw-wukong's thoughts, they are delightful), and he had already left the world alone for a long time. Why did he feel the need to train a successor now?
The simple answer is this: because he knew he needed to train MK and teach him to control his powers, and DBK's return was the perfect way to do it.
NOW. THE S4 MK VISIONS.
So, the visions MK see's all through out s4 (4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06) are of Wukong ripping through the scroll and going to the stone—David Breen confirmed that himself in the above tweets.
Here's a list of what we see:
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(4x03 The Great Tang Man)
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(4x04 Pig Napped)
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(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)
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These are what I would say are the visions of Sun Wukong trying to find MK in the scroll. Yet, they are distinctly different from what Subodhi presses MK to remember ("Tell me of your childhood, your parents." "You do not remember?" "And what else?"):
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(4x06 Show Me the Monster)
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Look at that difference!
Every vision MK has includes the same scenes, except this one. That's why I think it's a memory; that and the way it's framed, with MK closing his eyes in focus. The other visions from 4x03, 4x04, and 4x05 all are unprompted, being forced upon MK. Why make this last "vision" so different from the others? Why show our mystery lady making the stone monkey? That would be because it's a memory—be it MK's, something from the scroll, or a mix of both.
There's also the matter of like, why Wukong going to the stone would trigger any sort of vision in MK to begin with. Overall, it just seems like there something more to those visions.
This would be how I imagine the general timeline playing out:
MK is created (through help of Sun Wukong), a beautiful baby boy pops out of the stone, and Sun Wukong "loses" that beautiful boy (if Wukong knew he was born to begin with) with MK finding his way to Pigsy's.
Then it's later Sun Wukong finds MK again, coming up with a plan to make MK his "successor" (still leaving MK with Pigsy, which I think was the right call lol). As Wukong says in 4x01, "You make ONE mistake, and no one ever let's you live it down! Looks like the ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me." That's what I think this parallel in particular is really trying to show off—in some way, MK is part of his past mistakes, just like Macaque is.
AND SO. I WILL CLOSE OFF THIS THEORY POST WITH EVERYTHING WE LEARNED IN THE SPECIAL.
Sun Wukong: "Heh, nothing gets under his skin more than a monkey. Leave Azure to MK and me."
(4x12 The Plan Man)
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Sun Wukong: "Kinda embarrassing for the Jade Emperor to have two little cheeky monkeys running circles around him the first day on the job." MK: "Well, one monkey and one unconfirmed, but *laughs* yeah! I'd be embarrassed for sure!"
(4x13 Rip and Tear)
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Wukong sounds suspiciously confident that MK is a monkey.
Not even MK is sure what he is (which he's probably just in denial, but also "Until I know what I am, what my destiny is?" from 4x08 anyone?), but Sun Wukong is extremely certain about what MK is.
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Sun Wukong: "We got this bud. Would have liked to give you some new training with your monkey form, but-" MK: "Oh yeah yeah yeah- uh um- about that— um. I- I was thinking, I've never really needed a scary new monkey form before, so, I just thought maybe I'd use it next time." Sun Wukong: "Next time? Kid, there might not be a next time! This is the time."
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MK: "It's be fine! Mei and I have got this awesome new armor and everything! You know, when we look this good? Ain't nothing gonna beat us." Sun Wukong: "Kid. New armor isn't going to cut it! We have to hit Azure with everything we've got! You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!"
(4x12 The Plan Man)
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If the writers were trying to highlight the fact that Wukong didn't know, this scene would have gone very differently. Instead of "You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!" I think it would have been more along the lines of "I know this is new for all of us, but you've got to accept this part of your power!".
Even this exchange at the end of the special raises some alarm bells for me:
Pigsy: "Heh, don't bother. I've been telling him that for years but he LITERALLY never listens." Sun Wukong: "Yep! That's how we roll."
(4x14 Better Than We Found It)
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That's how "we" roll? As in him and MK, as two monkeys? Again, Wukong is surprisingly chill and okay with this new form for someone whose first interaction with it was supposedly this:
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MK, writhing on the ground in pain, completely destroying the world around him, and unable to control his powers.
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Sun Wukong: "Yeah! Go MK, go! Just try not to totally wreck up my stuff would ya-"
(4x13 Rip and Tear)
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Overall, it gives me the impression that Wukong already knew what MK was before 4x07. This new form didn't scare him because he always knew that's what MK was. MK, to Wukong, is MK! And MK has always been a Monkey Demon. He has unshakeable faith in his protege, and even while MK is absolutely tearing up the world around flower fruit mountain he can't help but cheer for him.
After all, Wukong knows MK is the only one who could defeat Azure:
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MK: "Ne Zha's right—while Azure has the Jade Emperor's power and the scroll, there's NO way we could beat him head on!" Sun Wukong: "I mean, some of us could beat him! *ahem* One of us, specifically-" MK: "Nope! None of us at all."
(4x12 The Plan Man)
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"But Imp!" I hear you say, "Wukong was talking about himself here!". To which I would reply, that's not true! This scene is right after Wukong has already said he only almost beat the Jade Emperor:
Sun Wukong: "But don't worry—I almost beat the Jade Emperor single handed once! Between both of us, Azure doesn't stand a chance." (4x12 The Plan Man)
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Between this and Wukong's pre-fight convo with MK ("We have to hit Azure with everything we've got!"), he's clearly banking on MK using the full extent of his powers to win this fight. Wukong isn't banking on his own—if he were, he would never have left MK to go and collect the scroll pieces during their fight with Azure.
Conclusion
Sun Wukong knew MK was a monkey the whole time, lol—and fate has plans for MK. Great plans, or foul? Time will tell.
And Wukong has done his best to ensure that those plans are great.
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toruslvt · 3 months
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Can't get enough of your writings from last place and also a HUGE Genshin/HonkaiStarRail stan. Quick request, if you don't mind and have time, Could you do a Dan Heng (Either form) or Zhongli with FemReader who is super shy about their body. SFW or NSFW would be great. Again, love your work. Hope to see more through the year :D
— dan heng, zhongli + fem!reader.
mdni. ( nonie pls read the tags ily ) both fluff and smut. dragon boys who don’t get human emotions that well yet wish nothing more than your happiness... cunilingus 😋.
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dan heng doesn’t understand why you’re so shy about your body, he only wishes you could see yourself through his eyes. see the perfection in your whole being and why his hands seem unable to be away from you for too long; he’s aware of your lack of self-confidence, and absolutely hates himself for not making you feel loved enough.
there is not a moment when dan heng’s hands aren’t touching you somehow, like a soft, tender rub on your back, a fleeting brush of his hands on your waist as you walk past him, and of course, multiple kisses placed on the patches of skin where your shirt doesn’t cover. utterly obsessed with you is what dan heng is.
intimately is the same, your lover takes his time in kissing you silly until you’re hazy and unable to tell him no when his hands take off your clothes, although, if you wished to remain clothed somehow, he would never deny that to you.
dan heng’s favorite part is letting his lips trace the whole expanse of your body, his pants tightening around his growing erection, painfully hard but wishing to satisfy you first, make you feel more comfortable while muttering sweet nothings against your skin where his lips lay and you shake in return, there’s bites on your thighs, licks and kisses, marks for you to see the following day and perhaps, loving your body a little bit more with the print of his love in your skin.
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on the other hand, Zhongli’s love language is through words more than actions, always finding himself cupping your cheeks and muttering how insanely gorgeous you are, how every single detail of your beautiful body drives him utterly insane, leaving you all flustered under his intense amber gaze.
there isn’t a day that passes where Zhongli isn’t eager to explore your body with his mouth and hands, slowly and steadily undoing your clothes under your lust filled eyes. “don’t do that, let me see you” he rasps when you cover yourself, slightly demanding and rough but not enough to scare you, staring at you from between your thighs with a piercing gaze that makes you whimper, letting your hands tangle on his hair while Zhongli’s tongue lick up your pretty pussy. although his favorite days are when you have those outbursts of confidence, still shyly taking off your clothes under his intense staring, it makes his cock pulse watching you so prettily crawl over his body, a smirk always plastered on his face that's half lust, and half adoration.
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ironunderstands · 2 days
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Yapping about why I love Aventio and what I feel makes it a great ship 
(If you hate it I urge you to read this, because you don’t have to agree with me, but I want you to get where Aventio shippers are coming from at least)
I’ve just really wanted to talk about why I love Aventio because the people do not get it like I do and GODDD ITS SO GOOD WHEN DONE CORRECTLY UGHHHHH
Also this is gonna be VERY stream of consciousness I do not have a plan besides dragging you through my brain so enjoy the ride.
I guess the best place to start is the fact that Aventurine and Ratio are my two favorite characters in the game. Like even if they have no interactions with each other ever and might as well be from different pieces of media I would ship them, because I like seeing characters I like interact and the fun police cannot catch me. That’s a really shallow personal reason though and I feel like the rest I have will be able to be appreciated by others.
GOD THE DYNAMIC IS SO GOOD RAAAAAA
Two emotional constipated dumbasses circling around each other like black holes trying desperately to deny and run from their feelings when they have both fallen hard. The lack of acknowledgement of feelings on both ends is TRAGIC and it makes me want to rip my eyes out in a good way, let’s start with Ratio.
Unfortunately my glorious king Ratio has been mischaracterized to hell and back but we will get to that (and the Incorrect Reasons Why People Hate Aventio) later. Instead I will go over his actual character; a deeply insecure, intelligent man who desperately wants the rest of the galaxy to come to the realizations he has long since stumbled upon, but has been so isolated from his peers from such a young age that he’s doomed to fail in literally every social interaction he has and be misunderstood by both the audience in universe and irl (the autistic coding isn’t helping him either).
Ratio is tragically misunderstood again, both in universe and by the audience, which is why it means so much that Aventurine Gets Him. Aventurine pushes his buttons, tears down that literal cold marble facade masking the deeply silly and caring man beneath (this man bathes with rubber duckies in the privacy of his own home 😭), and that scares the shit out of Ratio. People aren’t meant to see through him, Ratio acts rude not just because he believes it’s the best way to help people, and because he believes he himself is mundane and the conclusions they come to should be their own, not his.
No, it’s also because on some level Ratio is afraid to be vulnerable around people. As much as he pretends like it doesn’t affect him, Nous’s rejection has hurt and haunted Ratio for his entire life. And I do mean his entire life, even in high school he had already set up a strict routine for himself, something commented on by his teacher, Ratio has quite literally always been striving for some sort of perfection and the fact that he cannot achieve it kills him.
Moreover, the guy just grew up way too fast, he didn’t have time to develop social skills. We see it in that afformentioned relationship with his teacher, in which they recommend Ratio (who is again in high school) to be moved up to college level stuff and transferred due to his success. He has quite literally never been able to just relax in a environment of his peers, Ratio for some reason we don’t yet know has always been dedicated to constant improvement and that leaves no room for dealing with failure.
On some level, he knows this too, that he can never be perfect. Ratio is part of the Mundanites in the Intelligenica Guild for a reason, he doesn’t just see himself as mediocre because he believes everyone is and that’s ok, but also because he looks down on himself for being too mediocre for the Genius Society, being too mediocre for Nous’s acknowledgement, being too mediocre for anything.
Which is tragic because Ratio is very accomplished and he is very smart, and his character stories aren’t even told from his pov, but rather in the style of documentaries and letters (his professor) and other works on his well acclaimed life. We don’t ever get to see how Ratio really sees himself, just the tiny cracks in his marble facade that let the real man behind the character shine through.
Because that’s what he’s playing 90% of the time, a character. Whether it be at the Herta Space Station in which his real goal was to uproot the researchers blind worship of the Genius Society, or in Penacony in which he plays up the arrogant, narcissistic scholar both people in universe and irl make him out to be, both to serve a goal bigger than himself. 
Sincere moments from Ratio are RARE but god are they beautiful, his conversation from Screwllum in 1.6 and his note to Aventurine in 2.1 will forever haunt me in the best way possible. If you want to understand Ratio as a character, yes read his character stories, but just watch that damn scene with Screwllum it is phenomenal. He cares so much and is so, so bad at expressing it, he drives me nuts, Veritas Ratio the man you are. 
And the thing is, it seems like he’s always been playing a character and doesn’t know where the real him ends anymore so he just sticks to the way people perceive him a lot of the time. Like as a kid he was constantly striving to be the best so he missed a lot of necessary developmental shit, and as an adult he’s a celebrity so it’s hard for him to attach himself to others anyways because society and his students will hound him for it.
And then you throw Aventurine into the mix, and oh boy does shit get interesting.
Veritas Ratio, perfect “unfeeling” Veritas Ratio and the one person who gets him well enough to push all his buttons and expose the vulnerable underbelly he thought he hid so well. On a fundamental level, Ratio understands this, which is why he doesn’t bother with the alabaster head, as pretending the real him is just as unfeeling and uncaring is easier.
So he brushes off Aventurine’s jests as if they are an insult to his very existence, he can’t look in Aventurine’s eyes when he “betrays” him because his poker face would break, he leaves as soon as he’s done talking because lingering would allow the weight of their conversations to sink in. Part of it is because for pretty much all of Penacony, up until the note Ratio gives him, Ratio is acting, trying to play up the role of the arrogant, unfeeling scholar to make Sunday buy the betrayal plan, because to Sunday this behavior is signs of a bad relationship between the two (honestly the fact that the audience also interpreted it this way makes me mad like did yall seriously not pay attention, but also happy because if even the players were fooled that means Sunday buying it is believable). 
However, even if it feeds into his insecurities, Aventurine knows that false facade and loves tearing it down. It’s very telling that the second time we see Ratio really freak out (the first being at Herta Space Station) is at the suggestion that he came to narrate Aventurine’s demo not because of knowledge or respect for the show or whatever, but because he genuinely likes the guy. What makes it even better is that Aventurine is the one who suggested it, and already figured out the excuses Ratio was going to use to deny it. Ratio can fool everyone else in the galaxy, but he cannot fool Aventurine, and on a fundamental level that is what makes their dynamic work, because Ratio knows Aventurine in the exact same way.
Aventurine can shove away people who care about him, out of distrust and fear that they will leave him like his family did. He can believe he’s unloveable and a person so detestable that even the actions he performs in order to stay alive condemn him to hate himself as much as the rest of the galaxy hates him. But, Ratio doesn’t see him that way.
Aventurine doubts his intelligence, if he has really earned anything he’s done and in his voiceline about Ratio, doubting if Ratio even sees him as smart or worthy. However, Ratios voiceline about Aventurine is about how he believes Aventurine is smart and worthy, and that his doubt will be his downfall if he doesn’t come to the realization that he isn’t worthless. 
Ratio knows Aventurine’s one weakness, the one thing that could stop him; himself. That’s why he gives him the note urging him to stay alive and keep on living because ultimately Aventurine will only ever fail if he gives up. And The Note Is Enough, Aventurine walks into the event horizon of a black hole, confident he can return alive on the other side because someone cares about him, BECAUSE RATIO CARES ABOUT HIM, and wants him to live on even if Aventurine doesn’t feel that way towards himself.
In the metaphorical and literal manifestation of the meaningless of the universe, in the face of overwhelming nihility, Aventurine survives because someone loves him, and with that love he’s strong enough to brave even that. 
Even if they can’t admit it out loud, these two deeply, deeply care for one another and trust each other perhaps more than anyone else in the narrative. The betrayal plan would have never worked if there was not mutual trust, Ratio wouldn’t have gone to Penacony in the first place if he didn’t trust Aventurine, and Aventurine wouldn’t have asked him to come if he did not trust him. We don’t just see this trust between Aventurine and Ratio either, and Jade and Topaz both trust him with their cornerstones, but ultimately it’s Ratio who’s physically with him the whole time, risking his life alongside him for the sake of their plan. 
As much as people like to ignore it, lying to the Family members, to Sunday, is extremely dangerous and puts Ratio’s life in danger as much as it does Aventurine’s. Ratio is not an irrational person, he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have faith Aventurine would succeed, he would not have done if he didn’t think he would return. They have absolutely faith in one another and it’s beautiful. 
Aventurine’s first constellation is named “Prisoner’s Dilemma” for a reason. A social experiment in which two prisoners are captured and separated, if they sell the other one out and remain silent, they go free but the other remains in jail for 20 years. If they both sell each other out, they get a sentence of 5 years. 
But if they both remain silent, trust the other, they even if they physically can’t communicate and don’t know what the other says, they get the best possible outcome, only one year in jail each. It requires a sacrifice on both ends, they both still have to go to jail, but only for a year, and only if they trust each other completely, as if the other sells them out they will be in jail for 20.
The prisoners dilemma relies completely on trust, and it’s the exact situation Aventurine and Ratio face in the Penacony quests. Aventurines doubts if Ratio’s betrayal was real or not, even if he set it up himself, and Ratio worries about Aventurines survival, if continuing this plan will end well. “You can’t expect a featherless bird to take flight” isn’t just Ratio chastising Sunday, he’s genuinely worried that this plan will put Aventurine at too much of a disadvantage to continue on. 
But they both trust each other, and if just like in the Dilemma neither come out completely unscathed (although it’s much worse on Aventurine’s end), they ultimately achieve their goal. 
God is it sweet and corny in the best way possible 
I want to kill this fandoms perception of stoic, emotionless Ratio because once people realize he’s actually the corniest mf ever is the day I sleep easy. He makes statues of himself doing Jojo poses, he plays chess versus himself, he named himself Veritas (truth), he loves rubber duckies, he literally sits in a bathtub couch, and Aventurine breaths and he gets flustered.
Ratio so deeply silly, chronically corny, it’s a crime he needs to be locked up someone stop him. 
And Aven brings that out of him. His teasing reveals the goofball trying so desperately to disguise himself as a serious scholar. Ratio is very smart of course, but that only makes his silliness better, as you watch this absolute genius of a man behave like a tsundere schoolgirl. 
It’s not like Aventurine is some paragon of seriousness either, he’s the one teasing Ratio, fucking around even in a serious mission. Yeah it’s partly because he wants Sunday to think he’s incompetent, but it’s also because Aventurine genuinely is having fun, enjoying himself before the serious part of the plan kicks in, and the meantime he does that by messing with Ratio.
Their dynamic of Aventurine messing with Ratio, and Ratio trying desperately to pretend like it doesn’t affect him is as hilarious and heartwarming as it is tragic, and that dichotomy is why I love them so much. It’s fun and it hurts so so much because their interactions being this flavor of silly leaves almost no room for the sincerity they both desperately need from one another. 
AND GOD I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. RATIO MENTAL BREAKDOWN SCENE PLEAASEEE LET HIS WALLS CRUMBLE PLEEEEAASEE PLEASE PELADE PLEASEEEE EPLES DOLS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 
They’ve gotten closer and closer and closer and soon something’s gonna snap because they are so close yet so distant and if something doesn’t change the tension is just gonna boil over AND I NEED IT TO HAPPEN. I need more Ratio scenes I need more interactions with him I need him with his guard down I need him to profess out loud that he cares about Aventurine I need him to break please he needs it, it would be so good for him. It doesn’t even have to be from Aventurine, just Ratio snapping and revealing the fucking mess he is under his facade and not being rejected by the people he cares about for it is enough.
I honestly doubt it will happen in the story though, as much as I want it to. Although Aventurine’s character demo somewhat changed my mind against this, I feel like hoyo is like “ok they get the vibe between these two we can move on” and the shippers are left to extrapolate how this relationship would go beyond what it is now. As much as I want a breakdown scene for Ratio in general, it probably wouldn’t happen in a while but devs if you are reading this PLEASEEEE. 
The only time Ratio ever gets slightly out of his element is with Aventurine but I need it to go further because god it would be interesting.
Well I’ve deemed that enough yapping about why I love Aventio (for now 😈) so let’s talk about why people hate the ship and why most of the reasons behind it a fucking stupid. (Massive disclaimer of course you can dislike it it’s just a lot of the “oh it’s a horrible ship and anyone who likes it sucks” shit isn’t grounded in reality in the slightest and I’m tired of the slander)
“Ratio was racist to Aventurine”
Now this is a spicy one because if this post was made in 2.0 I would 100% agree with you (during that time I shipped a non canon version of them in which that did not happen because how dare u do my boy like that hoyo). However 2.1 changed a lot and I mean a lot, and basically reframed the 2.0 quests for everyone.
Essentially, Ratio and Aventurine were both acting in that argument scene, making the things Ratio said to Aventurine not how he really sees him, and actively something Aventurine wanted him to say, so you cannot blame him for what he said. I’m not even joking or exaggerating, retrospectively it quite literally does not make sense if you view it in any other way, and honestly even with just the knowledge of 2.0 the scene doesn’t make sense if played straight, so let’s get to why.
a) Ratio and Racism do not mix fundamentally. Ratio is a person who believes that everyone deserves and education regardless of background, that it is a scholars duty to help others achieve that, and no matter who you are, you are capable of intelligence, learning and becoming the best version of yourself, and that those qualities are just limited to geniuses.
THIS AND RACISM DO NOT MIX. “Oh yeah education and improvement is possible for everyone except this specific group of people for some fucking reason!!” Like not only would this scene being serious contradict Ratios entire character, the man who believes people should not be judged for their educational background judging Aventurine for his educational background (that’s actually what the Sigonian upbringing line meant, it was mistranslated in the EN version)??!?!! Make it make sense.
Moreover, half this perception also come from the fact that hoyo made the incredible writing decision of naming Aventurines planet after a slur for Romani people, so unfortunately literally anytime its name, Sigonia, is brought up you’re essentially saying a slur. It’s much worse in the CN version, in EN it’s not obvious at all, because our version of the slur (it starts with a g and ends with a y that’s all the hints you’re getting), doesn’t look like the version of the slur that the name for Sigonia was derived from, which is partly the source of this misconception as I’m pretty certain most people assumed Ratio (and by extension Sparkle) said a slur elsewhere in the conversation when in reality them referring to Avens ethnicity/background/planet IS the slur.
Anyways terrible writing decisions aside, Ratio supposedly being racist doesn’t just contradict his core motivation, it contradicts his job. He’s a scholar, for fucks sake, and racism is inherently illogical. Mmm yes I’m gonna base my identity around finding truth for myself and I will believe government and social propaganda about specific groups of people! Very logical, very scholarly, we all clapped. 
So yeah, doesn’t make sense on a character level, to the point that in 2.0 I concluded that they must be using Ratio as a plot device in that scene to deliver some of Aven’s backstory to the audience due to how OOC it was for him 😭. However I wasn’t necessarily wrong, Ratio was delivering some of Aventurines backstory to AN audience (not just us), and he was behaving OOC in the 2.0 scene, but it was on purpose.
b) The betrayal plan 
Aventurine forms a plan in which him and Ratio pretend to betray one another in order to sneak the Aventurine cornerstone into the dreamscape by replacing it with the Topaz stone (red herring + black hole scene dialogue implies she and Jade are there for other reasons) and the Jade stone (perfect dupe). 
Now this betrayal hinges on Sunday, their main antagonist buying it, actually believing that Ratio would betray Aventurine on a mission as important as Penacony, and it requires Sunday also buying that he is winning the whole time, that the loss of the cornerstones was somehow a fumble on Aventurine’s end rather than something he planned all along. 
So, they stage the 2.0 conversation. Ratio yells at Aventurine for losing the cornerstones, something which was part of their plan the whole time. He then insults Aventurine’s background allowing Aventurine to reveal key details of his past that Sunday would not have learned otherwise, which he uses in the trial against Aventurine. Seriously, Aventurine only found out he was the last Avgin when he became a Stoneheart, do y’all think Sunday summoned that info with his mind or something during the trial (like do you guys genuinely think Sunday read his wiki or something)
Moreover, Ratio not only insults him, but portrays Aventurine as useless, disposable to the IPC because he is apparently already sentenced to death. Why does he do this? Well, so Sunday feels confident enough to do the same to Aventurine. Seriously, sentencing an IPC member, especially a high ranking one to death is a risky move, even for someone as convicted as Sunday, he would need the confidence to do so and learning Aven might already die would give him that ability. 
Because well, it doesn’t matter that much if he’s already going to get disposed of in the near future. I also think the IPC plans to use Aventurine’s “death” as leverage against the family because they were pleased to hear of his death sentence according to Dr. Ratio, meaning a) he likely did not have one from them at the time, although in the past he was sentenced to death and b) even if Aventurine succeeded in getting the cornerstone his seeming loss in the rest of the conversation wasn’t actually a loss at all, getting sentenced to death/“dying” at the very least was part of the plan all along as the IPC could still use it as leverage if things went south.
Continually, Ratio treating Aventurine in the exact same sh1tty way the rest of the galaxy does perfectly slots him into the arrogant, uncaring scholar role, which Sunday knows are some of the most easily manipulated people in the galaxy, considering he tries to bribe Ratio with knowledge about Stellarons it seems he bought this idea hook line and sinker. Sunday isn’t even subtle about it either “I heard you and your companion haven’t been getting along lately” where did he hear that from? Ratio didn’t tell him, and even though we know Sunday was 100% watching the two of them on their little adventure pre-meeting him (the bird and hound statues) that scene hasn’t happened yet so where did he get that from?
Some other interesting proof for it is that the Final Victor lightcone likely depicts Aventurine trying to convince Ratio of this plan of his, the events of which must occur  pre-Penacony for several reasons, the least of which being that we just never see it happen on Penacony which if you think it did we would see it. Moreover lightcones are canonically condensed memories and the Final Victor lightcone released in 2.0, meaning it’s the memory of something that happened before then. 
All signs point to the 2.0 scene, the one people use to paint Aventio as toxic being staged. And I have so much more evidence for this, (Ratio would never agree to go without a plan, Aven clearly formed his pre-Penaocny, so much of the plan like Ratio opening the cornerstone box, which he can’t do up until the betrayal as it’s in Sundays possession, rely on him arriving knowing how to do so, the time discrepancies, the complete 180 in personality Ratio would have to do to go from distrusting Aventurine to putting his whole faith in him, etc), but I will reupload one of my old slideshows to elaborate more on it. Basically the one thing that people use to say it’s toxic is not true and is in fact a greater show of the trust between those two. 
“The shippers are all weird and racist” 
Now this one actually has some truth to it because yes there are some incredibly fucking weird Aventio shippers and I do not blame yall for disliking them.
HOWEVER, most Aventio shippers are normal and hate that shit just as much as you guys do. Like do you realize most shippers also really like these characters and have something insane called morals so they don’t automatically excuse racist fujoshi goobers just because they are making content for their favorite ship. Trust me someone doing that pisses me (and most other Aventio shippers) off significantly more than people who hate the ship. Also free Ratio from this shit man poor guy is getting mischaracterized as a slaveowner by his fans and haters 😭
And like guys, have you ever been in a fandom before, like ever? Weirdos are always gonna be weird and it’s not Aventio’s fault they are this months victims. For a fun little example of how gross other fanbases can be, one of the most popular Overwatch ships on ao3 is Genji Shimada X Hanzo Shimada WHO ARE BLOOD RELATED BROTHERS. THERES LIKE 300+ FICS OF IT, SHIMADACEST IS LITERALLY A TAG ON THERE. I WAS IN THE TRENCHES SEARCHING FOR GENJI HANZO ANGST FICS (Hanzo killed Genji it’s complicated doomed siblings will always get me) AND HAVING TO COMB THROUGH THOSE ABOMINATIONS IN THE PROCESS.
Like please I’m relatively new to fandom culture but yall cannot be acting like this is weird for fans to do, it’s weirdo behavior but it is not unique to the HSR fandom or even Aventio. And even if understandably this makes you not like the ship, don’t paint the people who enjoy it as being the people who do this kinda sh1t. It’s not our fault peak gets tainted by miserable creatures ok, let normal ppl have their harmless fun and stop lumping people together into a monolith. 
?????
Well that’s it that’s all the “valid” reasons people have for hating Aventio, at least the ones I can remember. Everything else is just personal opinion and not at all an objective reason.
“They’re so sibling coded!”
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Anyways again obviously you can still dislike it not everything is for everyone, I really just wanted to make this post to demonstrate why I and many others like it, and why the reasons people use to say it’s problematic are incorrect. Feel free to call it mid, block it whatever I don’t care, just don’t harass shippers for having some harmless fun, because the characters aren’t real but the people who like them are and in doing so you are really just being a jerk for no reason. If you somehow hate Aventio and read this the whole way through I congratulate you on your ability to actually listen to other people, and regardless of whether you changed your mind or not I respect you for doing so anyways. Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts. 
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prolibytherium · 2 months
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Cuz I know you man! Also you casually mention RPGs like, a weird amount.
(The Gang Tends Bar themed carfire for @its-always-ziney-in-philadelphia Valentines Zine)
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lavenoon · 4 months
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Before domestication comes a good, thorough hosing down
So, uh. This was supposed to be a wet beast wednesday and "stinky sewer troll" joke in one. And then it got entirely away from me. I continue ignoring canon and living in my made up timeline of Severing Hell's Leash (if you look closely, you can see Angor wear his ring!), and in that timeline he needs a shower.
Also version without the water below the cut
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I don’t know how I managed to do this in a day.  Like.  I think I pumped this out on pure adrenaline
But again.  If ur at the caption ya probably say the PSA spoiler wall that says that this comic contains spoilers for the Limited Life SMP finale.  Well and I’m tagging this as spoilers so it’d be evident anyways lol.  So I won’t write my spiel about go watch the end of Limited Life and I’ll just say oh my god what a finale it was absolutely epic.  I loved every moment of it.
But yeah.  I sketched this out as one of those “ahh silly goofy doodly sketchy sketchbook comics when I’m spewing a thought into my sketchbook” and then.  My impulsiveness (there’s a pun there.  Is it intentional?  That’s for you to decide) won in the end and this exists now.  It’s not the best quality of anything I’ve ever made but gosh darnit it was so much fun to make.  So so much fun.
But yeah.  Limited Life was absolutely amazing from start to finish and every POV was awesome (but if ya can’t tell team TIES is gonna live in my head rent free for a while lol)
That said.  Enjoy this silly little mini comic I made and have a good day :D
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ihavealavalamp · 1 year
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The Screaming Man // 2022
          … The pose of this particular sculpture was decided based on the prompt of impact; I wanted the posture and expression to perhaps startle the viewer, to convey the sense of someone screaming for help and reaching out a hand in desperation. I wanted to make it visceral, for audiences to feel uneasy when they see it and get a rush of emotion that will remain with them even after they walk away.            Ideally, this sculpture would be shown in an area that is wooded, where one may not see it at first. It is that jolt of recognition of the human form that would catch the attention of any accidental audience members, that realization that somebody has been silently screaming for help right in the corner of your eye and you hadn't even noticed. That it could have easily gone unnoticed and unheard, but now your attention is impossible to deny, that it is too late to plead ignorance without remembering what you saw, what cry for help you had no choice but to walk away from.           There is a meaning in that shame. It means something to me, and I know it means something to you as well. Something about guilt and helplessness and learned apathy, but I wish to let audiences decide what specific meaning it has to them. The type of impact is unique on the person, after all - at the end of the day, the screaming man is simply a man made out of sticks. Nothing more, nothing less. Not unless more is given, if one chooses to take the hand reaching out.
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hailsatanacab · 1 year
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"give me a fandom and a prompt and i'll give you at least five sentences"
Ok then.
Jazz, Danny and Bruce are in the same age range, and Bruce has been harboring a massive crush on 7'foot tall Jazz since just after he began his training journey.
His kids know about and are mercyless. Danny thinks he's a bit of a fruit loop and 100% knows Bruce has a crush on his sister.
Into the future his coworkers find out that batman has been quietly pining after the Ghost Kings sister for years.
Chaos.
love that this reads as a challenge. Ok then. Write it. i will, let's goooo!
(sorry i kinda took it so that Jazz, Danny, and Bruce were all old friends but in that horrible adult way where you can only hang out with each other once in a blue moon when your work schedules miraculously align)
——
"Respectfully, Batman, you can take your "it's not necessary" and you can shove it up your arse. There's a demon the size of a skyscraper heading towards Metropolis and we need reinforcements."
"Superman can—"
"Superman can't. You do remember the part of the report I made telling you this, right? Or did your stubborn little bat brain just shut down when I mentioned magic?"
"Actually," Nightwing interrupts from the side, a shit-eating grin on his face, "I think his brain shut down when you mentioned the Ghost King."
"Nightwing." Batman growls in warning, his jaw clenching so hard Constantine can swear he hears the bones creaking.
Nightwing just snickers, and turns away to press a finger to his ear, no doubt letting the rest of the bat brood in on what's happening here... Whatever that is. All Constantine knows is that Batman is standing between him and fixing this mess for no God-forsaken reason.
Luckily, some of the more reasonable members of the League step in to try and talk some sense into Batman. It gives him some time to calm down.
"Batman. We need him. I know you dislike working with unknowns, but he's our best shot."
It actually looks like Wonder Woman might be getting through to him, Batman even opens his mouth to actually explain some things—a huge step forward for this incredibly emotionally constipated man.
Instead, Nightwing snorts and beats him to it. "Unknowns? More like—"
"Nightwing, please."
"Oh, for Pete's sake, get your head out of your arse and let me do this. The Ghost King is our only hope. I'm summoning him, no matter what you say."
For a long second, Constantine thinks that he'll refuse and he might have to resort to more violent methods of persuasion—which, honestly, Constantine has fantasised about many times during the more boring JL meetings—but eventually, Batman relents and steps out of the way.
"Fine. Nightwing, go check in with Red Robin."
Nightwing has the kind of devious smile that makes John glad he doesn't have kids.
"Oh, don't worry about it, B. Red Robin's coming here. So's Red Hood, I don't need to go anywhere."
"Nightwing—"
"Sh, it's starting." So saying, Nightwing then very obviously ignores Batman's protests with a poker face that even Constantine envies. What he wouldn't give to be able to shut the bat out like that.
The summoning goes quickly, thankfully. The lights flicker, the temperature drops, and the chalk circle erupts in green flames. Standard summoning practices, sure. Even the impromptu appearance of Red Hood and Red Robin—"Did we miss him?", "No, not yet! I got 2:37, what about you guys?"—doesn't throw him off.
It does pique his interest, though. Just what the hell is going on with them? Constantine's weighing up the pros and cons of asking them once all of this is over when the ground splits open and the clawed hand of the Ghost King begins to pull himself out of the ground.
John's a seasoned summoner. It's practically his job, he's done it countless times.
The icey fear that grips his heart, that freezes his breath in his chest, is new.
Pure, unadulterated power floods the area and he feels small, so, so small, like a child playing with things he doesn't understand. When he finally tears his eyes away from the portal, he catches a glimpse of the other magic users in the room, the same horror he feels clear in their faces. Even Captain Marvel stares slackjawed.
The pressure rises, death magic screaming in his ears, almost forcing him to his knees, and suddenly he's not so sure this is a good idea.
Too late to back out now, though.
Sickly green light pours from the crack in the ground, growing brighter and brighter as the giant figure rises, until Constantine has to close his eyes and look away. The last thing he sees are eyes, teeth, horns, a crown so bright that it burns an afterimage into his retinas.
When the light dies down and he opens his eyes again, a humanoid man floats in the centre of the circle. The ground is whole, nothing is burning, the man doesn't even have a crown. Instead, other than the wispy white hair, slightly green skin, and the—you know—floating, the Ghost King appears pretty normal. Huh.
Constantine blinks, rubbing his bleary eyes, and checks around to make sure everyone's okay. Most of the League are doing the same as him, taking fortifying breaths and trying to appear as if they've not just been completely blinded.
Most of them, that is, aside from the Gotham vigilantes.
Batman himself stands upright, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the whole thing and John's got to admit, he wishes he could do that, too. That was... a hell of a show.
The others, however, are waving frantically with huge smiles on their faces.
What?
There's a brief, taut silence, as everyone else tries to catch their breath.
As much as he would rather take a bit of a breather, John should probably start making introductions. Unfortunately, he only gets as far as opening his mouth before the Ghost King beats him to it.
"Oh, Ancients, hey guys! It's been forever, how are you? Look at you all, so grown up, wow—Nightwing, buddy, do a flip!"
It doesn't take much to get Nightwing going, and he certainly doesn't leave it at one flip. The whole of the Justice League and Justice League Dark watch with open mouths as Nightwing performs for the Ghost King.
What, and John can't stress this enough, the fuck?
As soon as Nightwing rights himself, Red Hood swats him across the back of the head and calls him a show off.
The Ghost King just laughs as he claps. "There's my little monkey, look at you go! And I'm loving that leather jacket, Hood, is that new? Looks good on you, really your colour. Brings out the red in your helmet."
"Thanks, Uncle D. At least someone around here appreciates fashion."
"Are you kidding me, you know I breathe fashion, need I remind—"
"Need I remind you of the Discowing incident?"
"That was era-appropriate and you know it! Uncle D, tell him it was era-appropriate!"
"It was era-appropriate, but so are crocs and it doesn't make them fashionable." The Ghost King—and holy shit, is this actually the Ghost King? Or did Constantine just accidentally summon a deceased family member, what the fuck is happening here?—turns to look at Red Robin with a smile, resolutely ignorning the argument he created. "How you doing, Double R? You get that tablet Tucker made for you?"
"Yes, thank you! It's so cool, how did he—"
"How's Tucker doing?" Batman interrupts, his hands now hidden underneath his cape.
As soon as the question leaves his lips, everyone groans. Red Robin makes a show of lifting up his wrist and staring at it intently.
"Incredible," Red Hood mutters with a shake of his head.
Even the Ghost King seems put out, rolling his eyes and answering in a flat tone as if he knows Batman isn't interested in what he has to say.
Not for the first time, Constantine feels like he's missing something.
"Tucker's doing very well, thank you for asking."
What follows is the most awkward silence Constantine has ever had the pleasure to be a part of.
All three of the Gotham vigilantes, including the Ghost King, are staring at Batman, waiting for something. Batman's cloak shifts as if he's moving his hands, fidgeting. If Constantine didn't know any better, he'd say he was nervous.
"Good. That's good, I'm glad to hear it."
Instead of saying anything else, the Ghost King just raises his eyebrows and continues to stare at Batman. Has he offended him in some way? Are they all going to die because of this?
After what seems like an agonising few minutes but could only really be a few seconds, Batman's shoulders dip and he takes a breath. "And Jazz?"
They all erupt into shouts, the Ghost King being the loudest. The only thing John can make out is when the Ghost King throws his hand in the air to point at Red Robin with a shout of "Time!"
"1:30.91, we got 1:30.91 on the clock, who's closest?"
"Did you even try to hold it in at all, old man? I'm so disappointed in you. People think you're cool. People think you're suave, I don't understand how they could be so wrong."
"Thank you for that, Hood."
"No, thank you, I won. Again. Because you're so predictable. Actually, I had one minute seventeen, so you held out longer than I thought you would."
Batman pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly.
Constantine feels like doing the same thing.
Whatever. He's going to have to interrupt... whatever this is. There's still a rampaging demon heading their way that they've got to bargain for. He can untangle Batman's personal connection to the Ghost King later. Or he could leave it alone and forget everything about it.
Yeah, he'll do that one.
But before he can actually open his mouth to say anything, the Ghost King, again, beats him to it.
"So, B-Man, did you summon me here for a particular reason, or was it really just so you could ask about Jazz?"
There's a beat of silence before Batman mutters, "I asked about Tucker, too. We've not seen each other in so long, it's only polite."
"And I'm sure you meant it, you're the paragon of manners." The Ghost King nods slow and wide-eyed as if he doesn't believe him at all.
At this point, even Constantine doesn't believe him.
"It has been forever, though." The Ghost King muses, bringing his hand to his chin and folding his legs underneath him. "We should all get together sometime! If you get Alfie to make some of his cookies again, I'll get Clockwork to lend us a pocket dimension where we can spend as much time as we want, deal?"
"It's a deal."
No hesitation at all, incredible.
Hold on. Wait. John has to fight the urge to pinch himself, because this has to be a dream, right? Is Batman actually smiling? He didn't even know he could do that.
An itch niggles at the back of John's mind. He's starting to get an inkling of what's going on here and it's... weird, to say the least.
"Oooh," Nightwing singsongs, like a child in a playground tickled by the very idea of romance.
But then, who's he to judge? John's no stranger to strange bedfellows, that's for sure. Whoever this Jazz is, she must be something incredible—she'd have to be, if Batman can't even go two minutes without asking about her.
"Batman and Jasmine sitting in a tree," Nightwing continues, with both Red Hood and Red Robin joining in for the rest. "K—I—S—S—I—"
"Stop," Batman growls, completely drowned out by the Ghost King's laughter, but...
But.
It all suddenly clicks for John.
The Ghost King Phantom.
Her Royal Highness, Princess Jasmine Phantom.
Jazz.
"Holy shit, mate," John breathes, unable to stop himself as everyone looks his way. "You have the hots for the Princess of the Infinite Realms?"
The Justice League meeting room has never descended into chaos quicker.
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the-witchhunter · 7 months
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DP x DC: Bloodlines
So the Fenton family is descended from the Fentonightingales, with Jack's ancestor being a prominent witch hunter
so what if, the Fentonightingales branched off from a family of occultists, magicians, practitioners of the dark arts, etc? Who might they be able to claim as family?
Jason Blood gets a call one day from a girl claiming that he's a distant uncle of hers. She's mistaken of course, and the proof she gave made it easy for him to see where the mistake had been made with his own history having intersected with her family's ages before, but he could just tell her that. Besides, the girl seemed desperate and it sounded like an occult problem her and her brother seemed to be facing.
So he went with it, accepting that given the proof he had been given, a reasonable person would believe it. So he took in his "niece" and "nephew" Jazz and Danny Fenton
or
Jazz desperate for help as the situation at home turns sour, searches her family history for some link to someone who could help. She see's the Blood family name pop up multiple times in her records and mistakes Jason as a distant uncle instead of an immortal that happened to run into her family throughout the ages
for those of you not familiar with Jason Blood:
Jason Blood is a world leading expert on the occult and demonology. He has walked the Earth since the 6th Century, after the wizard Merlin bound the increasingly uncontrollable threat of Etrigan The Demon to his mortal soul.
aka he's a spooky immortal magic man that can transform into the Demon Etrigan
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shady-tavern · 5 months
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Missing Piece
@piperjistic had asked for a forest spirit and while this isn't fully in line with your request, I still hope you'll like it!
Minor warnings ahead for non-graphic violence and a wee bit of body-horror towards the end, though it doesn't happen to the main character. Please be sure to take care of yourself!
*.*.*
For as long as the little girl could remember, it felt like something was missing within her. She could never put a finger on it, but it made her a restless child, picking up and discarding games, struggling with consistently staying interested and some days she just felt very strange. 
Like that one stained glass window she had seen when her parents had taken her to a nearby city. All disjointed fragments that still managed to be a picture, but it would never be one entire piece.
The stained glass window at least had been pretty compared to the ugly feeling within her.
"Have you ever felt like something is missing inside you?" she asked her grandma, who came to pick her up many a day while her parents worked. 
Things were strange between Gran and her parents, she never talked to them and they never talked to her and she never set foot onto their garden, preferring to wait for the little girl at the gate by the little dirt road.
Gran stilled and when the little girl glanced up at her, her face had gone dark and grim and for the first time in the girl's life, her beloved grandma, a joyful soul who loved her with all her heart, looked just a little bit frightening.
But her hand around the girl's remained gentle and the older woman kept walking at a sedate pace so her short little legs didn't struggle with keeping up.
Everyone always said to the girl that she would grow to be bigger and she couldn't wait for that day to arrive. Gran was silent for so long that the girl thought she was never going to answer.
"You best ask your parents about that," Gran said at last, voice quiet and heavy with something unspoken. Strangely, her voice reminded the girl of a draft horse she had seen, who had been forced to pull a too heavy burden, body straining as it slowly and laboriously set one hoof in front of the other.
"Alright," the girl answered and grinned up at her grandmother, hoping to break up the awful mood her innocent little question had created. "Can we make blueberry cake today?"
Gran smiled and it was like the sun returning after a dark, scary storm, her face brightening and looking as kind and loving as ever. "Of course, little chestnut." She leaned in, voice dipping into a conspiratorial stage whisper, "My wife picked an entire basket just this morning."
The little girl giggled and soon the two of them reached the end of the village, all talk about missing pieces and resulting, scary expressions forgotten. The blueberry cake was delicious and maybe a bit messy since the girl had tried to help a bit too enthusiastically and the cute little apron Gran had made for her was stained with purple-blue juice on one corner.
Gran's wife, Tanya, arrived just as they had taken the first bite of a still warm slice of cake.
"You baked without me?" she gasped in a mock scandalized voice. "Oh, the betrayal, how it stings!" She dramatically fell onto the kitchen table and the little girl laughed when the two older women broke out into a full blown performance just to ensure she kept laughing.
Gran brought her back home just as the sun set and a strong, steady wind blew in from the forest, bringing with it the smell of spring moss and damp, cool earth.
"If you ever meet any magical beings, be wary," Gran said as she stopped in front of the gate that creaked noisily as soon as it was two thirds of the way open. 
She looked down at the girl, her face serious. "One day you might and if you do, they will offer you deals and nothing good ever comes from accepting their offers. They will only bring ruin in exchange for empty promises."
As solemnly as the little girl could, she offered her little pinky. "I promise to be careful," she said and a shadow of a smile crossed Gran's face as they hooked their pinkies around each other gently.
Gran leaned down to kiss the top of her head before she left with a glance towards the house and the girl briefly glanced towards the forest. It was an old forest, not quite as ancient as in other places, but surrounded by plenty of stories and mysteries. 
The girl had heard rumors about creatures living in the woods, of magic being alive in ways the mages in the big cities could never hope to replicate. She decided to be very careful whenever she went into the woods to pick berries and mushrooms. She had promised, after all.
She entered her parents' house, neatly putting her boots beside her mother's and when she looked up at her parents, the question tumbled forth without much thought, "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?"
Her mother, who was currently carving leather, stilled so thoroughly she might as well have turned to stone. Her father, in the process of cooking, seemed to freeze in place, the stirring of his ladle abruptly falling silent.
"You're still growing," her mother answered at last, voice quiet and her gaze on her work. "It will pass in given time."
The little girl stared at her, startled silent and with increasing heartbreak as the seconds passed, for she had just learned what her mother sounded like when she lied.
*.*.*
The conversation with her parents stayed with the girl as the months and years passed and she never asked again. Gran said nothing either, but every time she picked the girl up, she now glared at the house. 
Gran knew, the girl realized, but either couldn't say why she felt wrong or she didn't want to tell her.
Though, knowing her Gran, she probably couldn't for some reason. Gran had been born a rebel and she said she would die one, encouraging all of the little girl's bad habits, as her parents called them, with no remorse.
"This world will chew you up and spit you out, if you let it," Gran told her when she picked her up from school, her hand warm and gentle. "So don't be afraid to bare your teeth, little chestnut. Stand up for what you believe is right, that is the only way to slowly but surely kill off all things vile and dark."
The girl wasn't sure she entirely understood, but she nodded seriously anyway. Gran always told her everything no one else wanted to, blunt and direct without scaring her or hurting her feelings.
Gran felt strong, like a rushing river that wore down even the largest, toughest of boulders. The girl hoped she could be like her one day.
It was her Gran's teachings that got her in and out of trouble over the years and her words guided the girl into understanding when something was wrong. And how important it was to do something when she discovered evil.
As the village turned into a cute little town and more and more people moved in, drawing towards a hopeful future by their fertile lands and abundant forest, the girl had grown into a headstrong young woman.
Not once, in all that time, had she shaken off the feeling like she was lacking something. Like something was missing that should be there.
Her parents could no longer deny that something was wrong and their increasingly guilty and troubled looks said it all. It showed in the woman's life, that something within her was gone. As soon as someone looked into the little house she had moved into, they saw that no project was ever finished, every hobby dropped just after she had gained a modicum of skill in it.
She bounced from job to job, working for whoever hired her, before losing that job again, sometimes by leaving, sometimes by more talented, more passionate people coming along.
It was that restlessness that caused her to drift far enough from the town, the feeling of wrongness seemingly guiding her step, to cross paths with what she first thought was a traveling kind of circus.
There was a man leading the entire caravan of wagons, pale and primly dressed, clearly a mage considering his robes and pompous behavior as he hailed her down.
"We are no circus, young lady," he said when she asked about his business, but his eyes were cold and his smile about as pleasant as holding a palm full of slugs. "I am Master Egam and this is my curious collection. I intend to thoroughly impress the local lords."
He made a sweeping gesture at the wagons and she peered past him, at covered cages and grim looking soldiers.
Her gaze almost immediately fell back to the mage, however, and something ugly writhed within her chest. She couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it felt like sharp, uneven edges pressed against her ribs from within, accentuating the feeling of wrongness.
"Now, which way to the nearest town? It's growing rather late," Master Egam said, his smile wide and winning and yet it caused something cold to drip down her spine. There was a sudden taste of wet iron and rotting earth on her tongue.
It took her a moment to realize why, for she had never experienced anything like it. He had put magic into his words and it filled her mouth with a nasty taste. "This way, about a mile or so."
"Why don't you guide us?" he asked, patting the coach beside him. When she hesitated and saw a flash of curious danger in his eyes, she offered a bland smile.
"Thank you," she said, climbing up to join him, careful to keep some distance between them.
He stared at her for a moment and she resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. "You seem strangely...familiar," he mused after a moment. "Have I met you before? Or family of yours?" When she looked genuinely surprised, he shook his head. "Right, that is very unlikely. Then again, you country bumpkins all look the same to me."
She was desperate to distract him from her, which was thankfully easy enough to accomplish. All it took was a question about his exploits and soon he regaled her with all the horrifying details. Of the creatures he captured, the magic he had soaked up from them, the power he carried at his fingertips.
He was bragging, yes, but she could tell that every word was the truth. That he had chained a vampire into enduring sunlight at his leisure, that he had plucked all the feathers of a harpy to parade her around naked and that he had a griffin eating out of his hand for his amusement.
That he had caught one the most dangerous beings of all, a forest spirit.
She was deeply relieved when her hometown came into view and then she got to see the effects of his magic first hand. His voice seemed to be made of gold, for all he had to do was speak and people immediately rushed to obey, star-struck expressions and delighted, downright smitten smiles appearing on their faces.
She inched away from Master Egam and ended up by one of the wagons instead. Unable to resist, she tugged a corner of the covering up and peered inside.
Green eyes that shimmered like all the shades of plant life in the forest met hers and broken antlers rose from red and gold hair that tumbled down in long, thick waves. The forest spirit, she realized as she stared at him, wide eyed, his face sun-kissed and freckled and even chained down as he was she could see his innate power and grace.
The broken antlers disappeared, swiftly replaced by wolf ears as he now bared vicious fangs at her, wicked claws scraping over the iron lining the bottom of his cage as he growled.
"Careful with that one," Master Egam's voice made her jump and drop the tarp. "He's the most dangerous one I ever caught. A nasty piece of work."
"Why do you catch them?" she found herself asking and as she looked up at him, she already knew the answer before he opened his mouth.
"Because I can," he said, his smile as empty as his eyes were cruel. "Because the wild powers in this world need to know that they can and will be tamed. Now run along and don't tell anyone about this."
His magic was iron-rot on her tongue as she nodded, hastily pasting a smile on her face. It felt like fleeing as she turned and hurried away, her heart racing in her chest and the ugly, vile feeling that had scraped around her ribcage finally lessened.
The wrongness within her was as present as ever, a constant companion of subtle misery that dodged her steps, silent only whenever she found joy in things. Joy that was taken from her by its steady, suffocating grip sooner or later.
As soon as she was home, she began to pace, her mind whirring. She had to do something and whatever magic Master Egam possessed, she was somehow immune against it. She might be the only one who could think clearly around him.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm. Master Egam was dangerous and she was just a magic-less young woman who was all wrong inside. If she wasn't careful, she wouldn't have to worry about what was missing for much longer.
It wasn't hard, in the end, to find out that Master Egam was staying in the mayor's house, that he had tossed him and his family out and now treated the most lavish place as his. The mayor and his wife and two children seemed dazed but they didn't question what was being done to them, they just went to stay with their extended family.
The wagons were kept by the mayor's house, blocking most of the street and guarded by the soldiers, which were armed and armored.
She watched them as the last sunlight faded, thinking. Beyond the window she could see the mage and people came to his home, bringing downright decadent food with loving smiles and hazy eyes, leaving again empty handed.
An idea began to take form. A foolish one, most certainly, but it was likely her best chance. While Master Egam was busy feasting and ordering people around, most likely fancying himself a king among peasants, he would be distracted.
On second thought, he was most likely not traveling to impress lords, but to work his way up to becoming the actual king of these lands. Maybe even an emperor, holding court among captured creatures and his magic charming everyone into blind obedience.
So she joined a group of townsfolk who came with carefully made little cakes and desserts and they barely acknowledged her. The soldiers didn't even looked at them, most likely long used to this song and dance.
It was less easy to go unnoticed by Master Egam, but the man was easily distracted by the new offerings, already a good way through half the food he had been given.
No human should have been able to consume so much without bursting, she thought and she wondered if this was the price of his magic. That he not only could eat far too much, but had to.
"Bring this to the beasties," he said, gesturing at a little bucket of bones and food scraps and the young woman took a decisive step towards it, keeping her head down as she grabbed the bucket, stepping outside without being stopped. Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot.
The soldiers didn't pay her any heed now either. They looked bored and hungry as they watched another plate of food being brought in, but they said nothing. She wondered if they could even if they wanted to. If they were similarly charmed as anyone else.
"I need to feed them," she said politely to the nearest soldier, who moved woodenly to stare at her with a slightly hazy gaze. Ah, that answered her question. "I need the key, please. Master Egam's orders."
He handed the key over, because why wouldn't he? When everyone was always so fully under the mage's control, there was no reason to doubt. She went to the forest spirit's cage first, ignoring his low growl as she pushed the tarp up and began to look for the lock.
He fell silent as soon as she slipped the key into it and opened the door.
"I'll get you out," she whispered and his head tipped to the side, his wolf ears flicking as he considered her. And then, ever so slowly without removing those intense eyes from her, he tipped his head back, baring his collared throat.
She crawled into the cage, making sure to pull the door almost-closed behind her, the tarp falling down and leaving her in murky darkness with only her slightly fast breathing and pounding heart. She slowly inched forward, patting the ground, until clawed fingers carefully closed around her hand, guiding it up.
The collar had no lock and she stilled, her heart leaping in her chest. What was she supposed to do now?
"Bleed," the forest spirit said, voice such a horrible rasp that she was half convinced his throat was full of glass shards. "Willing offer."
She wasn't even thinking when she reached out with her free hand, gripping his fingers and pressing her palm against his claws. She felt him jerk in surprise, but the pain was already blooming, blood running down her hand in a hot line. She reached out to press her hand to his collar, smearing as much of her blood on it as possible and the next second the collar clicked open, crashing to the floor with a rattle of chains.
The forest spirit inhaled sharply and then she felt his hands touch her shoulder, careful and helping her shuffle a bit to the side. Freeing the path to the cage door, she realized
"Free the others, please," he whispered, his voice no longer sounding like he was gargling gravel, but instead charming and lovely-sweet. Her mouth was filled with the faint taste of meadow-flowers and cool spring water.
Then he was out of the cage and she scrambled to follow him, catching the door before it could slam shut.
The guards were lying on the ground and she saw the forest spirit springing past the last one he had taking down, vaulting over a confused man with a tart and heading straight into the house, face snarling in rage.
The next cage held the plucked harpy, who hissed a high-pitched shriek at her, but fell similarly silent when the door to the cage was unlocked.
Her collar too opened with blood and then the harpy was out, her feathers re-growing with a burst of magic that was almost painful with its relief. She took flight immediately, though she clearly struggled as she escaped, as did the griffin the young woman freed. 
The vampire slunk out of his cage with a look of wild hunger and gratitude before he was gone between one moment and the next. Just in time for all the windows in the house to shatter outward in a massive wave of pressure, the forest spirit crashing to the ground, wheezing and covered in blood.
The young woman was at his side in no time and as she gripped him and saw him in the light of the street lanterns without the distractions of his eyes, she realized just how thin he was. How his limbs shook as he struggled to his feet.
He stumbled, eyes going wide when she dragged him with her, just in time to round the corner before Master Egam came out of the house with magic whipping around him, a howl of rage filling the night as he found all his cages empty, his guards unconscious – or perhaps dead – on the ground.
"What are you doing," the forest spirit hissed, but he seemed unable to free himself from her grip, which told her everything she needed to know. She wasn't weak by any means, but she got the impression that he should be far stronger than she.
"Saving you," she hissed back. "You're in no condition to fight!"
"Return them to me!" she heard Master Egam's voice boom behind her, so loud and rattling it filled the entire town, making people cower and stumble, their gazes going hazy. "And find me the one who did this!"
Her mouth was filled with the taste of iron-rot to the point where she had to gag, but she managed to push on, reaching the little house she had moved into after she could no longer stand the guilty silence of her parents. The moment they were through the door, the forest spirit collapsed to the floor, breathing hard, sweating and bleeding.
"His magic," he said as he stared up at her with wide, bright green eyes that she knew she could get lost in if she allowed it. "It doesn't work on you. Why?"
"No idea," she murmured back. "Come, we have to hide you."
She had managed to empty out a large storage chest and squeezed him inside despite his protest just in time for her neighbors to come knocking.
"No one is here, I came looking," she said, heart pounding and blood still dripping from her hand as she gestured at the hastily strewn about contents of her chest. "I made sure they weren't hiding."
"Come help search," her neighbors murmured, gazes hazy and she followed them outside, hoping that the spirit stayed where he was, that he wouldn't be found.
She searched with the others until they were all ready to collapse and only then did Master Egam order them to rest with such fury that the cobblestone cracked around him. He had long since roused his guards – most of which were still alive – and had sent them out to the forest to capture those that had run for the woods.
"They can't go far," she heard him mutter to himself as he turned around to head back into the house. "Not with the state I left them all in."
He wasn't wrong.
When the young woman returned home, she found the forest spirit still in the storage chest, asleep and looking utterly exhausted. She dropped into her bed and slept until hunger forced her awake. 
The smell of cooking food woke the spirit as well and she stared in astonished surprise as he ate at an alarmingly fast rate. Half her pantry was gone by the time he curled up in front of the hearth and went straight back to sleep. She dropped a thick blanket on him and arranged pillows to hide him from the outside and sat down, thinking.
Master Egam was powerful and she had no idea if she could hide the spirit until he regained his strength, especially if he needed that much food every day. And even then there was no guarantee that he'd be powerful enough to defeat the mage. But, she reasoned, he might be able to escape, which was just as good in her opinion.
She dozed off and woke feeling warm, blinking blearily to realize the blanket was now draped over her, the pillows carefully arranged to leave her in a little nest. Only the floor beneath her was a little hard. Peering around, alarm searing through her, worrying that something had happened, she relaxed as soon as she saw the spirit.
He stood with his back to her, looking at all the half finished projects she had lying around, not having the heart to put them away, even though she already knew she'd never finish them. That this was it and her love for a new hobby she had found was instead curdling into quiet, miserable grief.
"Thank you," he said before turning towards her. He already looked far better than yesterday, less gaunt and shaky on his feet. His injuries were gone as well, leaving only a somewhat tattered, stained shirt and worn, knee-length pants over hale and whole skin behind.
He tipped his head and the way the light of a lit candle reflected in his eyes reminded her of the way animal eyes would look when a lantern swept past them in the dark. "What do you want in return for your help?"
She paused after sitting up, then shrugged. "I don't want anything." Gran had been very firm about deals with magic creatures, that they brought ruin more often than not, her voice harsh and bitter as she had said it. As if there was more to her words than mere warnings.
Besides, the young woman had grown up on stories about daring knights, wise mages and courageous princesses and princes. She had always wanted to be like them, to do good with her own two hands whenever possible. Had secretly dreamed about one day saving someone as she had grown up.
It had been far more scary and harrowing than in her imagination, but she'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.
"You want nothing," the spirit repeated, sounding like he didn't believe her. "Everyone wants something, help is never freely given. Especially not from my kind and especially not when you saved my life. Do not take that kind of thing lightly."
"All I want is for you to be safe," she said. "Don't get hurt again, promise me that."
The forest spirit inhaled sharply, pupils blowing wide until only a small ring of green remained and she felt a warm shiver go through the air. Like something powerful had just exhaled a blessing.
He said nothing for a long moment, before he dipped his head, suddenly looking regal as the wolf ears melted away and antlers appeared that looked far more intact than last night. "Very well." 
He joined her by the hearth, dropping down to one knee and offered his hand. "Let me see your wound."
She held out her hand and felt a tingle of magic, could taste soft, gentle meadow flowers and refreshing water as relief took away the lingering pain. Her palm was unmarred, not even a scar remaining.
"You have no idea what you just gave me, do you?" he asked quietly when she looked at him, his gaze so very captivating it looked like the entirety of the forest had gathered in his eyes.
She offered a small, crooked smile. "I've never been around magic," she said, all too aware that he was still holding her hand, skin warm like sunshine. "You can hide here until you've recovered."
He tipped his head to the side. "You would welcome me even now, knowing who is looking for me?"
"You're safe here," she answered. "He can't charm me and you need time to recover. Just make sure no one sees you."
"What do you desire for your help in return?" he asked. "And don't say nothing again."
She thought of the wrongness within her and wondered if magic could fix it. Then she remembered Gran's warnings about deals and ruin and bit back a sigh.
"I'll think about something," she said, though she didn't intend to. Once the spirit was strong enough, he would either fight or leave, but either way she doubted she would ever see him again.
He didn't look happy about that, but accepted her answer graciously enough. Getting to her feet, the young woman waved him with her to the kitchen corner. If he was eating her out of house and home he could help her cook.
When it became clear he was actually the better cook, since she hadn't been able to learn too much before her wrongness had kicked in, she happily left him to it and grabbed her money, sneaking out.
The entire town was walking around in a strange sort of haze, half of them still searching and the other half catering to the mage. 
She saw people bring more food to the mayor's house, along with other things. Jewels and prized possessions, feathers the harpy had and griffin had lost and one or two held squeaking bats in their gloved hands, as though hoping they might be the escaped vampire.
No one looked twice at her when she bought as much food as she could at the market and she bit back bitter worry when she saw Gran and Granny Tanya bring blueberry cake to the mage with happy smiles.
Only her parents didn't seem to be out and about. Strange.
She brought the food back home and the forest spirit noticeably relaxed once she was back, thanking her quietly before falling quiet again. The young woman, however, could only stand the silence for so long before she began to ask questions.
Before long she knew that the forest spirit had gotten captured in his sleep, that his home was to the north and that he could sense the power of the nearby forest.
They both fell asleep in front of the hearth and by the second day, the young woman dragged her bedding out into the living room and made a proper place to rest for the two of them. 
The forest spirit was in a better mood today and she realized that under all the tense grimness he was rather playful and enjoyed teasing and, most of all, making her laugh. She noticed as the days passed how he regained his strength, the gauntness disappearing faster than it would have for a regular person.
They kept busy in the small house in different ways. She watched him finish some of her craft projects and taught him to dance, he conjured sprigs of flowers for them to 'pretty up the place with' as he said and he let her brush out and braid his hair after long baths, the bath water never cooling until they were well and truly done.
Every night they curled up on the hearth together and it was then, as he looked at her, hair a healthy, shining red and gold and fox ears perked to listen better, that the truth spilled out.
How wrong inside she felt and he frowned at her in what she recognized as worry.
"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand and she put hers into his without a moment's hesitation. His face went soft and gentle in a way that ached somewhere around her tender heart as he held her hand with care.
Then he closed her eyes and she could taste meadow flowers and cold water and his frown deepened.
"I - you must talk to your parents," he said and as soon as the words were out, his head reared back a bit, ears pinning flat to his head as he blinked, looking startled and irritated. "Oh, how nasty."
She stared at him, wide-eyed and for the first time got the feeling that something was very, very wrong in a different way than she had thought.
"I'll go now," she whispered and he nodded, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze before she got to her feet.
Her parents looked worried and tense when they opened the door, relaxing a bit when they saw it was her, only for the tension to snap back into their frames. She realized immediately that they knew why she was here.
That there was a reason why she and they alone weren't slaves to the magic-charm of a mad mage. That they did know why she felt like a piece was missing.
"What's wrong with me?" she asked, sharp and hard in a way she had never spoken with them and they stepped aside to let her in.
They stood around the living room awkwardly until her father broke first, guilty and defensive and shoulders hunched, the silence around them heavy and thick and oppressive like summer heat without a cooling breeze.
"We didn't know," he said, almost pleading as he looked at his daughter. "When we met that...that man on our travels. We didn't know."
Something hot was wrapping around her heart and throat and a bad feeling unfolded in her gut, wriggling to get comfortable like a cat in a beam of sunlight. "Tell me the truth. Now. You owe me that much at least."
"We asked for a good life," her mother whispered, staring down at the ground, arms wrapped around herself and her head bent, shoulders tense. "We asked for nothing unreasonable, because being greedy only curses you. We asked for a good, warm, house, for enough money to buy what we desired until our deaths and to lead healthy, long and safe lives. We wanted the sort of fortune that would ensure we would have everything we desired until the day we died."
The heaviness in the air seemed to press down harder, like a thick blanket over sticky, sweaty skin, trapping heat and impossible to shake, no matter how desperately she wanted to get rid of it.
"What was the price?" the young woman asked, her tongue almost numb in her mouth. Though, she already knew. Could feel it in the marrow of her bones, could feel it in the stained glass shape of her soul, all disjointed and wrong and missing missing missing. Always missing something.
"You were but a babe," her father answered before she could ask again. "We didn't think...when he asked for a piece of you, something that wouldn't hurt you if he took it, we thought, well, if you grew up without it...you wouldn't know what you were missing."
Her heart shouldn't break, she thought, as pain and anger and grief greedily dug into her chest and belly. It shouldn't break when she didn't even feel all that surprised to hear what they were saying.
She thought of her life filled with things she couldn't finish, couldn't dedicate herself to no matter how deeply she loved, like her hands were too restless, desperately trying to find something to fill the void within her. All the friendships she had lost over the years, the disappointed people she had worked with and most of all, how miserable she had been.
She thought about feeling wrong and disjointed and like a stained glass window made by a clumsy apprentice and with the intent to make other people whisper and point and laugh instead of impressing them.
Weird, strange, not-fitting-in. Wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, had sung through her veins for as long as she could remember and she had walked through life feeling like a part of her was gone, but unable to voice it. Unable to even name what was missing. 
Thinking that, maybe, this was just her lot in life. That nothing could be done about it and she had tried to do her best with the hand she had been dealt by fate.
And all this time, her parents had just...traded that part of her away. For small comforts. For a future they could have made themselves with their own hands had they cared to try. For a life bartered and paid for by someone else, so they wouldn't have to shoulder the burden. 
And then they had lied to her about it, had left her thinking that nothing could be done to make her feel better. That this was normal.
"Who?" she asked numbly and she blinked, realizing she was halfway to the door. When she looked at her parents, hot, angry hatred crawled up her throat like a wave of lava at seeing their wounded, self-pitying faces. "Who did you allow to hurt me?"
"Master Egam," her father whispered, his voice barely audible in the heavy, suffocating silence. "We can't let him see us or he might remember."
She was out the door before he could finish speaking, heart breaking and racing and she wasn't surprised at all, even though she thought she should be. So that was why his magic wasn't working on her – and her parents, if part of their deal was to remain healthy and unharmed at all times. Just what had Egam taken from her to make a deal that protected them no matter what?
She didn't remember the path home, but the moment the door fell closed behind her, she looked at the forest spirit and all the breath rushed back into her lungs. He was waiting with a plate of cookies he had baked that afternoon and his gaze was so gentle and understanding it made the wounded part of her tremble.
He opened his arms, a silent invitation and for a moment there was so much awful anguish in her, she didn't know what to do. Had no idea how to react if someone touched her, if it would drain the pain and anger or make it spill over, ugly and messy and raw. Like a wound that had had years and years and years to grow until it had spread and festered.
Then she moved and let him catch her and cradle her close as she broke down, crying as bitterly and hard as she had never cried before. He held her tightly as she shook apart, her head tucked under his chin and she cried and cried until she felt empty inside. Empty and wrong.
"They gave a piece of me to Egam," she whispered, voice thick and scratchy and he stilled. She tightened her grip on the shirt she had gotten him during one of her trips to the market, where food had started to grow scarce. "In exchange for a good, comfortable life."
He cupped the back of her head and kept holding her, offering no empty platitudes and no 'I'm sorry's, for which she was grateful. She didn't want sorrys. She was...she was too damn fucking furious for that, she realized, now that the pain had momentarily drained away.
"I want it back," she said, biting the words out like they were bones snapping between her teeth. "I want it back and I want this monster gone."
He hugged her tighter and she felt his smile press against her temple, sharp and dangerous and fanged and not the least bit afraid of her rage. Not the least bit judgmental the way others had reacted to her anger over the years.
"Let's shred him," he whispered against her hair, soft lips brushing forehead. "Let's get back what he stole from us."
*.*.*
It hadn't taken too long to prepare. The forest spirit had recovered fully and there wasn't anything in town that could help them against a mage, but in the end, they didn't need much anyway. 
They didn't need fancy things or mage slayers. Not when the mage in question would give them the weapons they needed, born out of his own greed and hubris.
Born out of a deal he had made with her parents and Gran really was right, deals only ever brought ruin. Because she and the part Egam had taken from her were about to become his.
The forest spirit gave her hand a squeeze and they exchanged one more look as they got ready behind her house, his eyes fierce and so trusting it briefly stole her breath away.
"When this is over, travel with me," he said, out of nowhere. "I want to show you my home. The brooks and meadows and mountains and lake."
She smiled back, a warmth that had nothing to do with the burning rage spreading through her, smoothing down her edges and settling around her heart like a protective blanket.
"Gladly," she answered quietly, then her smile turned a bit crooked. "What, you aren't going to ask for anything in exchange, leaf boy?"
He laughed softly and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "You're too precious for deals," he said quietly and she could taste his magic, sweet and cool and it almost brought tears to her eyes, though she couldn't quite say why.
"Let's go," she said instead and he reached up to gather his hair, pulling it aside to allow her to put the pilfered chain from the wagon around his neck. They had scratched out all the symbols on the inside of the iron, destroying the enchantment that would block his magic.
With a bit of glue it would stay shut for now and he caught her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles until they stopped shaking. They both took a deep breath and stepped onto the street, a glamor settling over his skin, making him look gaunt and injured once more. He limped, casting her one last wink before people noticed them.
The townsfolk paid attention to her for the first time in nearly a month as she went to the mage's house. Word must have traveled ahead, for Master Egam was already awaiting them and the mayor's house was saturated with iron-rot. She could see a few hints here and there of the chaos that must've reigned before he had gotten things cleaned up to welcome them, sitting on a padded chair like it was a throne.
"Bring him to me, girl," he said, beckoning and his smile benevolent and his eyes glittering like cold glass shards. His hunger was deep enough to cut and she bit back a shiver at the disgust that crept beneath her skin the closer she came to him.
"My prized possession," Egam murmured, already ignoring her and his magic grew thicker in the air, almost making her gag. The forest spirit pretended to fight, snarling as he was dragged forward, looking like he was too weak to resist. "And you put him back in his proper attire too, good girl."
He absentmindedly patted her on the head and she made herself smile at him, empty and dazzled, like the other townsfolk, swallowing down bile. The spirit had told her that Egam had stolen a piece of his magic too, forcefully instead of willingly, but it was in his hands all the same.
It was time to get back what belonged to them.
She handed over the chain, his gaze on the forest spirit like he wanted to devour him whole. Like the monsters and villains in her stories growing up, greedy and cruel and insatiable.
Egam moved past her, already discarding her as unimportant. As under his control. As just another 'country bumpkin'. He was the powerful mage after all and, as he had said, he already had one of the most powerful beings under his control.
A powerless girl might as well be dirt under his boots.
That was the exact reason he didn't see her nick her hand on a small knife hidden in her pocket. Why he didn't see her smile at the forest spirit over his shoulder before reaching out. 
He didn't look at her and therefore couldn't react in time when she stepped to his side and reached up, pressing her bloody hand over his heart at the same time that the forest spirit lunged forward. 
The mage did react, aiming his magic at the bigger, perceived threat, like they had suspected. And just like they had hoped, his magic slid off of the forest spirit harmlessly, for when the young woman had saved his life and he had offered her compensation of the same magnitude, she had asked for him to be safe.
The forest spirit was unhindered, pressing bloody palms to the mage's chest, right over his heart, sharp, sharp teeth bared and he snarled, "I undo the deal."
"I undo the deal," she spoke simultaneously with him, the words the forest spirit had taught her, steady and patient as each one was nothing but pain in her throat. Because she wasn't supposed to say those words, but then again, parents weren't supposed to give away what didn't belong to them either, so she had a right to this.
A right to undo what had been done to her, as long as she could get through the pain that tried to keep her from speaking. Pain that was worse than any wrongness had ever been, any loneliness and pain and grief and self-loathing for not being like all the other people. 
For never getting to keep doing the things she loved, forever searching for something she hadn't known she'd have to buy back with blood and pain.
It was the worst pain she had ever endured, but it wasn't stronger than the rage in her veins, the taste of iron-rot on her tongue and the sun-warm hand that took her free, unharmed one, grounding and strong. The look of startled anger on the mage's face swiftly morphing into fear was everything in this moment.
"I undo the deal made made without my voice, without my consent, without my agreement. I undo it as it was made, in pain and blood and betrayal," they spoke in perfect unison, their only chance to both get back what had been taken from them.
Their only chance to catch him so by surprise that he did feel betrayed, that he was as helpless as they had been, asleep and a babe respectively.
The moment the last word left her mouth, a sudden relief gripped her throat, releasing the burning agony that had torn through it and at the same time, she felt something warm and big spread through her chest.
The wrongness disappeared in an instant, the feeling of missing turning into wholeness so filling and great she almost stumbled back, her skin tingling and euphoria singing through her so brightly she had to sob. Because that wasn't just a missing piece, a sliver of soul that he had taken and that was now returned to her.
Magic, he had taken magic from her. It glittered like stars in the dark in her veins, spilled through her mind like bright sunlight on shimmering waves and wrapped around her with a desperation like it had longed to return to her as relentlessly as she had wanted it to return to her.
Egam was screaming as he stumbled back and they let him, watched him trip and spill to the ground as he writhed, clawing at his chest where blood smeared, hot and red and the forest spirit gripped her hand tighter.
His magic was heavy in the air, making her taste rivers and entire fields full of flowers and even from the corner of her eye she could see how much more vibrant he was now, the glamor dropped. Captivating and downright otherworldly, beautiful and mesmerizing.
"What have you done!" Egam shrieked but his words no longer tasted of iron-rot in the air and she blinked, realizing the power of his voice had been stolen from someone else. As she watched him seemingly shrink down, magic leaving him, her breath caught.
Oh. Her magic had been the first he had stolen. Her magic was what had bolstered all of his and now that it was gone, everything he was unraveled until it left behind a pitiful little man, with eyes so mean and cruel he should belong in a story, not in real life.
"I promised you I would be your end," the forest spirit said and his voice was filled with magic. The sort of magic that had previously been used by Egam to charm everyone. "I think your hunger and greed are better suited in a different shape and form. In something that grows, don't you?"
And Egam tried to scramble to his feet and run, but the magic of the forest spirit was so thick in the air it her own magic sing in return, bright and sparking and the fury was still a living, roiling wave of heat within her. She reached out without much thought, letting her magic wrap around the forest spirit's, who threw his head back and laughed.
He laughed as Egam screamed in a pitch no human throat should be capable of. He laughed as the screams cut off and branches broke out of his back, his skin turning to bark and the mage grew and grew and stretched and the young woman found herself pulled out the house as floorboards and walls, doors and furniture and remains of windows were devoured.
She watched as a tree grew and grew and grew until the trunk was as wide as the house had been and it reached high into the sky, the canopy so thick and wide it sheltered the entire town under its boughs. 
And her magic was singing and singing and singing and she felt so hale and whole she felt like she was floating. The forest spirit turned towards her, grinning and took her injured hand, pressing a kiss to the cut, smearing blood over his lips as he healed it.
"We're free now," he whispered, eyes so very green and then she was laughing and crying and pulling him forward and he followed her, pressing kisses that tasted like fading copper and brightly like flowers and cold water to her lips.
They were free. Free and whole at last and she felt like she was truly breathing for the first time since she could remember. Deep breaths that seemed to fill her entire body, her magic twining with his as it surrounded them, forest and sky and her tears were wiped away with gentle, gentle hands.
"We are," she whispered, sinking her hands into his hair until she had threaded starlight through it. "Let me introduce you to Gran and Granny Tanya and then I want to see your home."
He laughed and picked her up and twirled her in a circle and she found herself laughing as well, flowers blooming to form a crown on her head.
Where previously a quiet sort of misery had loomed in her future, saturating all coming days, she now couldn't wait to see what the rest of her life looked like.
Bright, she thought as she held his face in her hands, their foreheads gently pressing together. Her future was bight and free and full of love and she was still laughing and crying, happy beyond words. And her magic, finally, finally returned to her, sang and shone and at long last, she felt nothing but right inside.
*.*.*
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honeycollectswhump · 3 months
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maybe put a shock collar on Ashtray?
Lightning in His Veins
[masterlist]
CW: shock collar, pet whump, conditioned whumpee, dehumanisation
His Mistress has a new collar for him. Ashtray should be excited at the prospect of being decorated, but something about it makes his stomach churn. It is big, black and ugly. Nothing like the delicate accessories his Mistress usually dresses him in, and that almost feels like a sin.
Maybe it's because the collar is a gift from one of her friends, watching excitedly. Not for Ashtray, of course, nothing is ever for him, nothing belongs to him, that’s how it's supposed to be. But sometimes they gift her things to dress him in, though nothing comes close to her knowledge of style and grace. This collar must be one of those gifts then, and who is Ashtray to question that. A Good Boy never questions his superiors, a Good Boy never questions anything. A Good Boy does what he is told.
So Ashtray does. He bares his neck prettily, taking note of how his torso moves, twisting on fresh burns, knowing that the glitter the servants applied must shine like tiny diamonds. And maybe, silently, he hopes that his Mistress’ friends must be so jealous of her beautiful, perfect possessions, decked in gold and jewels, just what dreams are made of. 
…At least he thinks that’s what dreams must be like. Objects don’t dream, naturally. 
As his Mistress closes the clasps of the collar, as her pristine red nails scratch over a burn scrab, he can’t help but focus on the feelings of prongs digging into his throat in an uncomfortably familiar way. Ashtray doesn’t dwell on it though. He has already learned, there is nothing to fear. The blank rooms are far gone and instead have been blessedly replaced by the shining smiles his Mistress graces him with, her cold hands like glistening ice bringing warm burns, and the golden glamour she has allowed him to be a part of. 
Satisfied, his Mistress steps back. She is saying something, talking with her guest, exchanging airy laughter and warbled pleasant tones, washing over Ashtray like pearly morning dew he can picture in his mind but has never seen before. He could get lost in her voice, riding on it like clouds carrying him through his purpose, and yet never being too distracted, always keeping an eye on the ground just low enough so he’ll never miss a clue he can’t understand, never missing the remote–
The remote being handed to his Mistress, equally as black as the collar, making him suddenly awake of the prongs against his throat and the pit forming in his stomach. 
Ashtray stays still though, perfectly poised, and suppresses the flinch before it had even fully realised. Maybe he hopes, desperately, if he is Good enough she’ll decide against it. Maybe it was all a test, maybe, maybe… Maybe he can see it coming just enough to give her the reaction she wants. 
Almost pleadingly in the silence of his own mind, Ashtray knows he isn’t trained for pain. He is supposed to be an Ashtray, an object with a specific use, it’s all he could ever hope to know. The thought of displeasing her with his reaction scares him more than any pain ever could. What if he reacts too much? What if he is not– Lightning burns down his veins, ripping out his throat, his skin and tissue and soul. Two punctures spread venom down his very being, and there is no escape no escape no escape no escape no escape
Suddenly, it’s gone and Ashtray finds himself curled up on the ground, his limbs still twitching. He can’t remember how but surely it wasn’t graceful and–
His mouth rips open in a breathless scream, a pathetic, garbled screech barely noticeable over the sound of mindless thrashing, limbs hitting the floor, head banging against polished stone. It’s fire and lightning and Punishment and he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know anything, only knows Pain and Punishment and Please Stop.
Pause.
Breath.
Notice saliva dripping from the mouth. Not elegant. Not trained.
Hell. 
Like veins imploding, swallowing what is left of Ashtray, leaving no trace of his purpose. Like poison, destruction, ruin, Ødelæggelse.
Stop.
Gasp.
Look up at Mistress, hope for mercy, hope for anything.
Find glee. Find amused laughter. Please.
It never ends…
• • •
He is still here. Ashtray is still here. Twisted, on the ground, the venom still burning in every vessel, but here. His tongue feels thick and swollen in his mouth, dried and bloody at the same time. Somehow, it is all pain, every single cell in his body is pain and lightning and shocks still coursing through him.
Maybe she heard him think. Maybe she felt her Ashtray have stupid little thoughts about things he should be grateful for, like being adorned in a big, black, ugly painful it hurts burning agonising beautiful collar. 
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