#i learned it was actually 'now that the beast is out of HER cage'
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Transcript of The Trade, the Marella KOTLC short story (Including the author introduction)
Note: OG pictures taken by Kenna!, provided by @fintan-pyren. Some words are obscured and the transcript may contain errors. Neverless, I hope this is useful to anyone who may need/want it :)
Hello, wonderful Keeper readers! Some of you might already know that I love to sneak a little something extra into the paperback versions of my books whenever I can (since I don't think hardcover readers should get to be the only ones who sometimes find fun bonuses). For those who didn't know that: surprise! :)
I knew I wanted to include a story from Marella's POV this time. Not only is she on the cover (looking fierce and fabulous!) and a fan-favorite character, but she also had some key scenes in Stellarlune that we only got to "hear" about. The Keeper books are limited to Sophie's POV, so I can only include moments where Sophie is present--and since Sophie didn't go with Marella to her meetings with Fintan, we only learn what Marella tells Sophie later. But what if there was something Marella didn't share?
Over the next few pages, you can watch one of Marella's conversations with Fintan play out in real time and hear all Marella's thoughts and reactions to what's happening. I've called this story "The Trade"--and I've worked in lots of fun little extra details (some of which might even turn out to be important later...*wink*).
For those wondering, this story is based a [sic] scene in chapter 31 of Stellarlune--and if you haven't read Stellarlune yet: SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! Reading this first will probably be confusing and will also give away a few tidbits too early. You'll be much happier if you start by reading Stellarlune and then come back here for all the Marella fun once you're done!
Happy reading! [shannon's signature]
~
"Ugh, I hate this place," Marella muttered, shaking the freshly fallen snowflakes out of her gilded blond hair much harder than necessary and yanking her thick velvet cape tighter around her narrow shoulders.
She said the same thing every time she had to trudge through the knee-high snowdrifts and found herself staring at the icicle-crusted entrance to the now familiar cave.
Didn't matter how many times she'd gone there--or how important her visits were. She was never not going to dread making the long, slippery trek down to Fintan's frozen cell.
The cave looked like some sort of open-mouthed snow beast waiting to devour everything in its path--which was probably intentional, since the prison was designed to be as miserable as possible.
Especially for someone like her.
The goblin guards even gave her pitying stares as they moved aside to reveal the endless icy path that wound down and down--and down a whole lot more--to a place where the tiniest glimmer of heat had long since been swallowed up by the suffocating cold.
No amount of clothing could keep Marella warm in the heart of the prison She'd actually tried wearing so many layers that she'd looked like an overstuffed gulon--and she still couldn't stop shivering. And the whole "body temperature regulation" thing wasn't exactly possible when she had to use so much concentration to make sense of Fintan's ranting.
it wasn't fair.
Everyone else got to train their special abilities in fancy rooms at Foxfire, with Mentors who weren't creepy, unstable murderers.
But they weren't Pyrokinetics.
Marella was lucky the Council was letting her use her ability at all.
They could just as easily label her Talentless, kick her out of their snobby academy, and ban her from ever sparking another flame.
Or they could decide she was too dangerous and lock her away.
in fact, Marella wouldn't have been surprised at all if the Council was already building an icy cage just for her--but the thought still made her shiver and wish she could've manifested as...
Nope.
She stopped herself from finishing that sentence.
If life had taught her anything, it was that there's no point wanting things that were never going to happen.
Instead, she focused on the thin beams of sunlight streaking through a gap in the gloomy gray clouds. The light was far from warm, but if she really concentrated, she could feel a hint of lingering heat tangled among the brightness.
She called the warmth closer and soaked it in--let it pool under her skin, pounding with her pulse, swelling with every heartbeat. Growing hotter and hotter and hotter until...
Snap!
A flick of her fingers sent a small tangle of flames sparking to life above her left palm.
"Feel better?" Linh asked as Marella let out a long, slow sigh.
Marella nodded--though she definitely could've done without the whispered that were now hissing around her head.
The flames had a soft, crackly voice. And they always made the same plea.
Feed me.
Feed me.
Feed me.
Fire craved fuel--constantly wanting more, more, more--and it would've been so easy for Marella to let the fire swell bigger and bigger and bigger.
But that was the kind of thing that would lead to a lifetime of shivering in an underground ice cube, so she forced her gaze to shift to Linh, who stood in a small, snowless circle surrounded by a halo of hovering snowflakes---none daring to touch her long silver-tipped hair or shimmery purple cape.
Marella knew how hard Linh had fought to achieve that level of control, and how tentative Linh's hold over her ability still was. But the fact Linh could stand in a sea of frozen water and do nothing except keep the falling snow from settling on her flushed pink cheeks was very...
Annoying.
Then again, everyone annoyed Marella a little.
Her dad used to call her "fiery" long before he realized how accurate that description truly was.
But it wasn't Marella's fault!
People tended to be annoying.
Especially a Hydrokinetic who was currently looking all peaceful and pretty and perfect while making snowflakes flutter and spin in intricate patterns.
That didn't mean Marella wasn't also grateful that Linh was willing to tag along to her Pyrokinetic lessons. it was nice to see a friendly face after hours of Fintan's rambling. Plus, it seemed like a good idea to have someone with water powers around while she practiced setting things on fire.
They were even finding some pretty cool ways to work together. Fire and water might be opposites--but that didn't mean they couldn't be combined. Marella had actually figured out a way to ignite Linh's rain, and she couldn't wait to use that little trick on the Neverseen--assuming those black-cloaked losers ever showed up again.
For a fearsome, unstoppable rebellion, they sure spend a lot of time hiding.
"Are you going to start by asking him about the cache or do the lesson first?" Linh asked, reminding Marella why they were there.
Marella shrugged. "Depends on Fintan's mood."
Sometimes he was already babbling about some fancy new fire trick when she arrived, as if he'd started the lesson without bothering to wait for her. Other times she couldn't get anywhere with him until she'd let him go on and on and on about how foolish the Council was, or how badly he'd been wronged, or how much he missed the feel of a flickering flame--and she didn't necessarily blame him for the last one.
Part of her wanted to hold on to her fireball forever.
Make it her smoky little pet.
Instead, she curled her fingers into a fist and snuffed it out--but she didn't let all the heat dissipate. She called a single tingling glint deeper, letting it sear through her veins and settle into her heart.
She knew it was a risky move, even with all the defenses she wrapped around it. But she couldn't bear the cold emptiness of Fintan's prison without a least a tiny fleck of warmth tucked away.
A secret spark whispering, I'm here. You're not alone.
"Okay," she said, weaving a few strands of her hair together to clam her twitchy fingers. She'd picked up the nervous habit years ago--after her mom's accident--and the tiny braids were kind of her trademark now. "i guess I should stop stalling and head down to deal with Sir Creepysparks, huh?"
Linh smiled. "Probably. Unless you want to rehearse what you're going to say."
"Nah. I'm just going to offer him an ugly flower--that doesn't exactly need a big speech. Oh, but that reminds me..."
She reached into her cape pocket and pulled out the spiky dark blue Noxflare--which looked more like a dying weed than a super-rare flower--and held it up to the guards. "Mr. Forkle already checked this before I brought it here, to make sure it's safe for me to offer to Fintan. but I figured you'd want to check it too."
"We do," they agreed in unison as one of the biggest, deadliest-looking guards took the Noxflare from Marella and brought it over to the other goblins.
A lot of mumbling about potential kindling and fire hazards followed.
Eventually, the guards decided to quick-freeze the Noxflare into a block of ice in case there was any heat stored inside.
"Whoa," Marella said when the scary guard returned with the flower-filled ice cube--which had turned out as big as her head. "How heavy is that thing?"
The guard studied Marella's skinny arms. "I can carry it for you if you'd like."
"That's probably be smart." Marella was pretty sure she'd drop it, or her fingers would freeze off during the long walk--and using telekinesis would drain her mental energy. "But can you stay out of sight? I was planning to tell Fintan he can only see his weird flower thing if he gives me access to his memories, and that's kinda ruined if there's a giant goblin holding it right next to me.
Not that it made the plan any less pointless.
Fintan was obviously going to turn her down.
He's already made it super clear that the only trade he was interested in was for his freedom--which was never going to happen.
Marella doubted a dying flower frozen in ice was suddenly going to make him be like, You know what? Who needs out of this horrible prison when I can have that!
But she was out of other ideas.
And Sophie wanted her to try the Noxflare thing, so...
Whatever.
Marella didn't care about Sophie's current power trip the way Stina did.
As long as she didn't have to be the one coming up with all the plans--or almost dying all the time--Marella was fine following orders. Especially if she got to say I told you so when they turned out to be a huge waste of time.
"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" Linh asked as Marella pulled thick gloves onto her hands. "Fintan likes me."
Marella wasn't sure if "like" was the right word, since Fintan didn't seem to like anybody. But he'd definitely been impressed with Linh.
He'd demanded to speak with "the Hydrokinetic" after Marella mentioned she practiced her pyrokinesis with Linh, so Marella had convinced the goblin guards to let Linh down into the prison. And when Fintan asked for a demonstration of Linh's ability to ensure she wouldn't "hinder his training," Linh had stirred up all the ice shards on his floor and made them rain around him like he was trapped inside a snow globe--which actually made him applaud.
Apparently, most Hydrokinetics struggled to manipulate water in its solid form, and were limited to liquid water or water vapor.
But not Linh.
Of course.
Marella was pretty sure that Linh was more powerful than any of her other friends.
"Well, if you need me, you know where to find me," Linh said as Marella forced her feet to carry her into the cave. "I'll just be here, making another snow menagerie." She flicker her wrist and wove the hovering snowflakes into a soaring alenon.
"Ugh, at least make some ugly creatures this time," Marella called over her shoulder. "I want to see a row of snow ghouls when I get back here. Or a giant Princess Purryfins!"
Linh gasped. "Princess Purryfins is not ugly! I'm going to tell her you said that!"
Marella laughed. "I'm sure you will."
She would've teased Linh more about her ridiculous obsession with her pet murcat, but the frigid air from the prison hit Marella hard, and she had to lock her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
As least she didn't have to make the journey by herself this time.
Marella could hear the scary goblin guard keeping pace several steps behind her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim blue light cast by a series of glowing spheres dangling from the ceiling. The downward slope grew steeper with each winding curve, and Marella was always tempted to try sliding down the icy floor instead of walking--but she'd probably end up crashing into one of the weird ice thrones outside Fintan's cell. And she knew better than anyone that injuries couldn't always be healed.
Plus, the trudge gave her a chance to add extra defenses to the heat she'd tucked away in her chest.
She often wondered if Fintan had hidden a few sparks of his own when he was arrested. After all, he had to know the Council would put him on ice for the rest of eternity. Wouldn't he try to preserve what little heat he could?
But Marella had stretched out her senses a zillion different ways and never felt the slightest tingle of warmth when she was around him. So either there was nothing to find or Fintan was that good.
She had a horrible feeling it was the latter, and he was waiting for just the right moment to reveal his grand plan--but that wasn't the kind of thing she should be thinking about before having to face him.
Still, she spent the next few turn trying to figure out what she'd do if she were right.
Her feet turned numb while she plotted, and her bones were officially aching by the time the path widened-- the only warning that they were getting close to Fintan's cell.
A few curves later, his cage came into view: a stark, icy bubble in the center of a circular cavern.
The round wall was reflective on the inside, so even though Marella could see Fintan pacing along the edge of his frozen barricade, he wouldn't be able to see her until she triggered the sensor by sitting in one of the freezing thrones positioned at the only point Fintan could peer through.
He looked extra tired that day--his sky blue eyes sunken by more shadows than usual, and he kept muttering under his breath about incompetence as he tucked his messy blond hair behind his pointy ears with a bit more force than necessary.
Marella glanced back at the scary guard, making sure he'd ducked into the shadows near the back of the cell before she made her big appearance. Then she took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her heart, reaching for her secret spark of warmth one last time before plopping into the closest ice throne.
"Awwwww, looks like you missed me," she said, tossing back her hair and flashing her brightest smile.
She liked to start her visits by showing Fintan she wasn't afraid of him--even if she totally was.
But Fintan didn't glance her way.
"I'm not in the mood for games," he warned as he continued his slow march around his cell.
"Neither am I" Marella assured him, deciding that was her cue to start with the cache. She sat up taller, trying to look extra confident as she added, "But I do have an awesome trade to offer you!"
Fintan sighed. "If this is about my cache, I already told you what I'm willing to accept. Unless you're here to grant me a day of freedom--"
"I'm definitely not. But! I found something you should like even better." She paused, hoping the extra bit of anticipation would somehow make her offer should more exiting when she told him. "Noxflares!"
Fintan scrunched his slender nose. "What are Noxflares, and why would I care about them?"
Marella tilted her head, trying to tell if he was faking.
She hadn't expected him to jump around or applaud or anything--but she had expected him to at least know what Noxflares were.
Then again, his mind had been shattered and pieced back together so many times, his memories had to be in shambles--and Ancient minds tended to be a total mess anyway, since they were crammed with thousands of years of information and the past and present blurred together.
"Would it help if I told you I stopped by your old estate on my way here?" she asked, "Your garden could use some gnomish help, by the way. All the plants have turned into a giant dying tangle. But I dug around and managed to find this scraggly vine with dark pointy flowers--and I hear that plant is special to you, so I picked a few and--"
"You picked my Noxflares?" Fintan snapped, rushing to the wall of his cell and pressing his palms against the ice. "You must let me see them!"
Marella's lips curled into a huge smirk. "I thought you didn't know what they were."
Fintan gritted his teeth so hard, it sounded like cracking ice.
"Hey, I'm not saying I won't share. Buuuuuuuuuuut it'll cost you--and I'm pretty sure you can already guess what I want." She paused for another beat before she added, "Just so we're clear: I'll show you one of your Noxflares if you open your cache and show me what's inside."
Fintan's jaw tightened even more and his hands curled into fists.
But he didn't say no.
He didn't say anything--which was definitely new.
Marella had already offered him a long list of trade suggestions that she, Linh, Maruca, and Stina had all come up with--some really cool ones! And Fintan had shot down each one down before she could even finish the offer.
She couldn't believe he looked so tempted by an ugly flower.
but as the silence dragged on, Marella started to wonder if she'd misread the situation.
maybe she'd pushed him too hard--taunted him too much--and now Fintan was letting her sit there in the cold, knowing the icy throne was turning her butt and legs numb.
She was trying to decide if she could make standing up look like a power move when Fintan told her, "Fine. You have a deal--but since you're only offering one Noxflare, I'll only show you one memory."
Marella barely stopped herself from blurting out, SERIOUSLY?
"Orrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she said instead, wanting to kick herself for not bringing more Noxflares with her. The whole thing had just seemed so silly--and the first few she'd picked had crumbled to dust. But the vine had lots more flowers, so she could fix the mistake super easily. "How about I go back, grab eight more Noxflares, and then you show me all nine memories?"
Fintan grinned. "Tempting. But one Noxflare is really all I need."
Need?
Marella wasn't a fan of that wording.
But before she could ask him what he needed it for, he added, "My offer expires in ten seconds," and started counting down.
By "six" she decided that one memory was better than nothing.
"Fine," she said, pulling the cache from her pocket and holding the marble-size orb up to the light. "But you go first. How do I open this thing?"
No way was she going to risk letting him back out--especially since he probably wasn't going to be happy when he saw his precious flower was stuck in the middle of a giant ice cube.
Fintan held out his hand. "Give me the cache, and I'll open it."
Marella laughed. "Hard pass."
"Ah, but you don't have a choice. I'm the only one who can access the memories. And I need to make physical contact with the cache in order to do so."
Marella squinted at the tiny gadget.
She didn't know much about caches--aside from the fact that only Councillors used them and that each colorful inner crystal held a single Forgotten Secret. But she did know that Dex had already tried everything he could think of to open the cache and failed--and he was one of the best Technopaths ever.
"Do I need to start counting down again?" Fintan asked. "I believe we'd gotten to five..."
Marella chewed her lip. "Uh, how do I know you're not going to destroy the cache or try to hold it for ransom or something?"
Fintan's smile was colder than his cell. "You'll just have to trust me."
"Yeah, I don't see that happening."
Fintan shrugged. "Then our deal is off."
Marella rolled her eyes. "Come on. Even if I wanted to, it's not like I can open your cell door and hand the cache to you."
She wasn't even sure if his cell had a door. The wall looked like one big solid piece of ice.
"You've proven to be very resourceful during our lessons," Fintan reminded her.
"Yeah, but--"
"It's your call," he interrupted. "If you want a memory, you'll have to trust me."
She snort-laughed--but before she could get another word out, he repeated, "You'll just have to trust me." And she could tell that was the only response he was going to give.
She turned to the scary guard, who had started pacing in the shadows. "Is there a way to pass Fintan a small item?"
"Ah, you have a hidden goblin escort--I knew you were resourceful!" Fintan clapped his hands. "And yes, there is a way to pass me my cache, otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it. Any guard can open the disgraceful tube they pass my horrid, frozen bits of food through. The cache should fit nicely."
The guard gripped his sword. "I cannot allow any unauthorized item to enter his cell."
Fintan clicked his tongue. "Clearly you're not considering the fact that I've already had plenty of chances to make this trade--and turned them all down. Do you think I would do that if the cache was even remotely useful to me?"
The goblin couldn't argue with that logic.
Neither could Marella.
And when Fintan went back to counting down, she told the guard, "The Black Swan knows I've been trying to make this trade--and they're working with the Council now. No one would let me do this if they thought the cache was dangerous."
Then again, they'd never discussed the possibility of handing the cache over to Fintan--but surely someone must've considered that during all their endless talking and obsessive overplanning...right?
Besides, if anything went wrong, she could always remind them that this was Sophie's idea.
"I don't like this," the scary guard growled. But Marella gave him her I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing glare until he set the frozen Noxflare down with a particularly dramatic thud, snatched the cache, and spent an eternity squinting at the tiny crystal, spinning it all different ways. "If anything happens, my priority will be subduing the prisoner--not protecting you. Are you certain you want to take that risk?"
Marella absolutely wasn't.
But...this might be their only shot at seeing one of Fintan's Forgotten Secrets.
Plus, she had her tiny little spark buddy she could call on if she needed. Surely she could use that to...
To what?
Take down a superpowerful, much more experienced Pyrokinetic with a history of murdering poeple?
But...did she really want to wimp out?
Sophie wouldn't.
And yeah, Sophie had, like, a permanent bed in the Healing Center. But Marella was pretty sure their whole group would vote "DO IT!"
There were also a dozen other armed goblins who would rush down as backup.
And Linh could attack Fintan with her cutesy snow animals.
It'd almost be worth it to watch Fintan get swallowed up by an ice wave shaped like Princess Purryfins.
"I can handle myself," she decided, using a tone that hopefully sounded intimidating.
Fintan's gleeful laughter echoed of the ice.
The scary guard muttered something about the arrogance of elves as he reached toward the top of Fintan's frozen cell and felt around for a specific spot. A faint clicking sound followed, and a tiny round door slid open--far out of Fintan's reach.
"I can neutralize you within seconds," the guard reminded him as he held the cache up to the opening. "By numerous means. Some far more painful than others."
"Yes, I'm well aware of the absurd lengths the Council has taken to keep me contained," Fintan assured him. "But I don't plan on giving you a reason to use any of them. Not today, at least."
The guard bared his supersharp pointy teeth, and Marella wanted to shout NEVER MIND, JUST KIDDING! But she let the guard shove the cache through the tiny opening--and then it was too late to change her mind.
All she could do was watch the glass orb make its slow descent, rolling around and around and around--down some sort of invisible path etched into the wall of the cell.
Her stomach backflipped with each rotation, and she felt more than a little vomit-y when the cache dropped low enough for Fintan to catch it. But he simply held it up and studied it.
Then he coughed on it.
And sneezed on it.
"Ewwwwwww," Marella groaned when he followed that up by drooling on it. "You know, there are better ways to give it your DNA."
"Yes, I'm aware." Fintan cleared his throat and launched a slimy blob of spit at the cache. "I also know your little Technopath friend is going to ask you how I accessed the memories, so feel free to give him a detailed list." He wiped the cache dry with his fingers and then ran it through his greasy hair before sneezing and coughing on it again. "Some of these methods are vital. Some are distractions. None can be re-created without me--but it'll be fun if he tries, don't you think?"
He laughed so hard, it brought tears to his eyes, and he smeared them across the cache before sneezing and spitting on it again--making Marella very glad she had gloves to keep her hands clean once he returned the cache.
Assuming she actually got it back...
She tried to make out what he was saying when he started mumbling a bunch of stuff into the crystal, but the words were all mushed together. He also tapped the cache in so many different places that she doubted even Sophie and Keefe with their fancy photographic memories would be able to re-create the patterns. And he looked so smug as he did it all that Marella decided to look as bored as possible--which was why she was barely paying attention when the cache flared to life, projecting a small hologram of Fintan standing alone in a wide, empty field.
"Huh," Marella mumbled. "Gotta admit, I was expecting something a little more exciting than a tiny glowing Fintan in the middle of nowhere doing...nothing."
"Then you should learn to be more observant." Fintan pointed to the swaying grass around the hologram's feet, and after a few seconds, Marella realized there was a vine of blooming Noxflares. "I figured I'd show you what Noxflares can do, since you're so generously bringing one back into my life."
Marella squinted at the tiny flowers, waiting for something to happen.
And waiting.
And waiting.
"So...they...blow in the wind?" she asked.
Fintan sighed. "No, they do this."
The hologram of Fintan waved his arms, and all the Noxflares erupted with searing white flames.
"Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah, still not seeing why this needed to be a super-hush-hush Forgotten Secret," Marella grumbled as the Fintan hologram flicked his wrist and added purple fire to the white.
Sure, the flames were pretty--but all flames were beautiful.
"Try thinking like a Pyrokinetic!" Fintan snapped. "Tell me, are there any other flowers that could remain intact under such an inferno?"
Marella couldn't think of any.
And the Noxflares still didn't burn when the Fintan hologram added yellow flames to the fiery mix.
but other than clearly being fire-resistant, Marella didn't see the Noxflares actually doing anything--and the hologram of Fintan must've been equally unimpressed.
He frowned at the flaming petals and dragged a hand down his face, mumbling "something's missing."
"Still not seeing the point of this," Marella noted. "I mean..."
Her voice trailed off as the tiny Fintan waved his arms again and blasted the Noxflares with pink flames--which made the flowers spray sparks in every direction.
The effect was breathtaking.
Kind of like the sky during the Celestial Festival.
But that still didn't necessarily scream, THIS MEMORY IS IMPORTANT.
"How come the grass isn't catching fire?" she asked, grasping for anything that might be significant. "Do the Noxflares protect it or something?"
"No, I was protecting it. A pyrokinetic should always be in control of their flames."
He sounded so smug Marella was tempted to remind him that he let five Pyrokinetics die when he tried to teach them how to call down Everblaze and they all lost control--but that would probably make him throw one of his tantrums and send her away.
She needed the cache back first--and to hopefully find something useful in this boring memory. But sadly, all Fintan's hologram did was stare blankly at the stars and mumble "something's missing" again before the image flashed away.
"That's it?" the scary guard demanded, beating Marella to the complaint.
"Yeah, so...you put on a little fire show all by yourself with some spark-shooting flowers," she added, trying to sum up what she'd seen. "You were clearly disappointed by that little show. And then you must've remembered you needed to..."
She waved her hands, cuing Fintan to fill in the blank with whatever was "missing."
But he just stood there, staring at the cache with the same glazed look he always got whenever he started rambling about the beauty of fire--and Marella wished Linh had come with her after all.
Linh could pelt him with snowballs or something to snap him out of it.
But then she realized...
"You never figured out what was missing--did you?"
Fintan blinked and met her gaze. "Noxflares are full of possibility. But they need to burn."
"That doesn't answer my question," Marella noted.
Fintan shrugged. "Context was not part of our bargain."
"yeah, because I figured when I saw the memory, it would be obvious why it's this big Forgotten Secret. How does you setting some flowers on fire and then realizing you did it wrong matter to anyone?"
"I did nothing wrong," Fintan assured her, with a particularly haughty smile--butt Marella wasn't buying it.
There was a tightness around his eyes that was way too familiar.
Her dad had that same tightness every time her mom was having one of her "bad days," and she knew exactly what it meant.
Disappointment.
Frustration.
A hint of helplessness.
So she marched over to the guard and grabbed the frozen Noxflare from the floor--too irritated to even notice how heavy the ice must've been as she hauled it back.
She plopped it in front of Fintan's cell. "Ta-da! One ugly flower, as promised--and I'm sure you're not surprised that I had to freeze it before i brought it down here."
"I'm not." Fintan dropped to his knees and gazed at the Noxflare like he was seeing a long-lost friend.
He pressed his hand against his cell, trying to get as close as he could. "Such power. Such...promise."
"Uh-huh," Marella agreed, letting his stare and stare, hoping it would help him let his guard down.
When his eyes turned a little teary, she went in for the kill.
"But there is something still missing, isn't there? That's why you saved this memory--to remind yourself to keep looking."
A whole lot of painful silence passed before Fintan slowly nodded.
Marella wanted to feel triumphant.
But all she'd done was prove the entire trade had been pointless.
There was no game-changing clue.
No dirty little secret about the past.
Certainly nothing to help them stop their enemies.
And she had a pretty strong hunch the other eight memories in the cache would be just as ridiculous.
"The answer is out there," Fintan murmured. "I can feel it. I just can't grasp it. Perhaps..."
"Perhaps?" Marella prompted when his eyes locked with hers.
Fintan stepped closer to the ice, keeping his voice low, like he didn't want the guard to hear him. "Perhaps a different Pyrokinetic is meant to find the truth. One who's already convinced the Council to trust her."
Marella laughed. "The Council doesn't trust me."
"The fact that you're here for a pyrokinesis lesson says otherwise--particularly since the lesson is with me." He started circling his cell again, mumbling under his breath and nodding. The only words Marella caught were "possible," "improvising," and "best option."
After three more times around the cell, he stopped in front of Marella again, leaning even closer to the icy wall as he whispered, "I believe it's time for me to offer a trade of my own."
"A trade," Marella repeated, not missing the way the scary guard gripped his sword.
Fintan glared at him. "This conversation is between me and my prodigy. She stands here of her own free will, shielded by who knows how many different kinds of protections--and she can leave anytime she pleases. Your presence is no longer needed."
"You still have her gadget," the guard argued.
"I suppose I do. but that can be easily remedied." Fintan set the cache on whatever invisible ledge it had slid down in the first place and gave it a good shove, sending it spinning up the path toward the top of the cell.
The guard had to scramble to catch it when it launched out of the ice bubble.
"See?" Fintan said, shifting his gaze back to Marella. "I can be trusted."
"Pretty sure the only thing I can trust is that you'll do what's best for you," Marella countered.
"As long as you get what you want, why would you care? After all, no matter what, I'm still stuck in here, aren't I?" He waved his arms around his little ice bubble, which suddenly looked way less secure than it had during her other visits. "Oh, relax--all I'm asking for is a little information."
Marella crossed her arms. "Right--and information has never gotten anyone hurt or killed."
"It's not that kind of secret. It's..." He frowned. "Honestly, I don't know what it is--and for someone my age, with my connections, that says something, doesn't it? I doubt any of the Vackers even know the full truth."
"Then how am I supposed to find it?" Marella demanded.
"As I said, you've proven to be quite resourceful. Particularly when you team up with your little friends." He scowled at the guard again before motioning her to step closer--until her ear was practically pressed up against the ice.
A voice in the back of her head kept screaming, WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO HIM?
But...she was curious.
And there was nothing wrong with hearing his offer, was there?
Fintan's breath fogged the ice, obscuring his face as he whispered, "All I ask is that if you ever find out what's missing from the Noxflares, you share it with me."
"Why?" Marella glanced at the frozen flower, wishing she could see something more than just ugly shriveled petals.
"Because I want to know," Fintan said simply. "And because I can give you what you want in return."
"The rest of the memories in your cache," Marella clarified.
Fintan nodded. Then his lips curled into a smile. "And one other--something you've long wondered about, even though you probably don't admit it to yourself."
Marella raised one eyebrow, refusing to show any more interest than that.
Fintan cupped his hands around his mouth and pressed them to the ice before he whispered, "I know what happened to your mother."
Marella sucked in a breath.
"Yes," Fintan added. "I'm talking about her 'accident'--if we can really call it that. I know why she fell. And why her injuries were so incurable."
Marella stumbled back, collapsing into the nearest throne and hugging herself to stop her body from shaking with tremors that had nothing to do with the cold.
A tiny, terrified part of her had always thought the story she'd been told about her mom's fall hadn't totally made sense.
But everyone--everyone--was convinced it had been an accident.
Even her father.
And if it wasn't...
She leaned toward Fintan. "I don't need your games."
"Oh, this definitely isn't a game. But it's the only way you'll ever know the truth, and before you start overthinking everything, consider this: You have all the power here. Make the trade, don't make the trade--it's totally your call. You also don't have to make a decision right away. I'm trapped in this prison. I'll never find the answer on my own--and I'll never know if you find the answer unless you decide to tell me. So there's zero pressure. No one even knows we've had this conversation--and don't worry about the guard. See how frustrated he looks? That's because I made sure he only heard what I wanted him to hear. The rest is our little secret."
Our little secret.
Fintan was probably the last person she should have a secret with.
And yet...he had a point.
No one knew he'd made her this offer--and it wasn't like she'd come to any decision.
She didn't even have the information Fintan wanted anyway!
And with the way their investigations always seemed to go, she'd probably only find a whole lot more questions.
So there was really no point in telling anyone about this.
She could tell them whens he needed to.
If she needed to.
That wouldn't be wrong...would it?
It didn't feel wrong--or it wouldn't have if Fintan's smile wasn't so creepy.
"I'm not agreeing to anything," she said, wanting to make that very clear.
"You're not," Fintan assured her. "So how about we put this out of our minds and get started with our lesson? I'm sure your Hydrokinetic friend is wondering why you haven't come up to practice yet."
Linh was probably starting to worry.
She'd probably also built enough snow animals to make a frozen Sanctuary.
"Fine," Marella said, standing up and dusting ice off her cape. "What do you want me to work on today?"
"How about I teach you how to make those colored flames you saw in the memory," Fintan suggested. "You know, in case that ever comes in handy."
He winked, and the guard groaned and held out the cache to Marella. "Sound like I'm no longer needed."
"You aren't" Fintan agreed.
The guard growled--looking scarier than ever--and turned to march away. But he spun back after a few steps. "He's right that I don't know what he offered you. But I can tell you're tempted. And I hope you're smart enough to reject it. Never make a deal with someone who has nothing to lose."
"I'm not," Marella promised.
And she wasn't.
She hadn't made any decisions--except to keep this to herself. But that didn't mean anything.
She was just trying to avoid a ton of drama and arguing and having people give her advice she didn't need.
Plus, everyone has secrets.
Shoot--the great Sophie Foster had more secrets than anyone.
So it was fine.
Everything was fine.
Nothing had changed.
Time to focus on controlling her fire.
And yet, for the rest of the lesson, the tiny spark in her heart burned hotter and hotter and hotter. Whispering a new plea.
Trust me.
Trust me.
Trust me.
#kotlc#haha! did it!#it's entirely possible there are errors here. so if anyone notices one feel free to point it out so I can fix it#this isn't professional or anything#but anyway. wow that short story huh?#major win for the fandom#in my opinion#loss for my poor poor fingers though#my god#did this instead of homework
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Chapter Eight
no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc
series masterlist
series playlist
warnings: 18+ heavy angst, references to past injury related to DV, very brief and very vague smut
a/n: we've reached the end of this story. i love these two, very much. thank you for reading.
...........................................
Maybe there's a God above
But, all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you?
And it's not a cry, that you hear at night
It's not somebody, who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah as performed by Jeff Buckley
...........................................
The car is real. It is parked outside the house now. Sneering a chrome smile at him, taunting him. The sound of its engine in the mornings when she goes to the diner whispers the same thing everytime. Soon.
One day after the perfect mess he made, he dropped her off at the diner and she informed him with all the warmth of a business associate that he need not come back to pick her up, because Sal would be giving her the keys to the car that is now parked outside the house, the car that is now hers. The car that is going to take her far away from him, any day now.
They move around each other like ghosts. How fast fission breeds new rhythms and routines, never in the kitchen at the same time, nor the fields, fleeting passings in the evenings. He has taken on more night shifts to keep himself out of the house, to keep himself from doing something stupid, like knocking on her bedroom door and getting down on his knees. Only a few days, though it feels like a yawning beast of time has already blinked by.
She will tell him, won’t she? At least that. Actually, he’s not sure if she will. If he will come home one morning and the sheep will be calling a grievous sound into the thin air because their favorite has left, stuck with him once again. Warning, notice, if not for him, then at least for her flock.
How quickly things soured, all their jagged pieces tearing and teething at each other. His mean, her mean, and the desolate monster it has made between them. He will let her leave, he must. Care has turned into a cage, and he must leave the door open, must let her step through to something else, something better. Because clearly, whatever this is, plainly no good.
The mind is a cruel machine. The worst part of all of this, he has been dreaming of her. Scraps of visions, what he can remember. The perfect line of her clavicle, and how breath made the pools of shadows swell and bend against her skin. The way his hand curled around her thigh, the hinge of it. He wakes up wanting, warm and wretched, alone in the night. But the patrol shifts help with that, something about sleeping with the sun trying to pry through the blinds staving off the darkest of his thoughts.
Sarah called the other day, asked how Dove was doing. Oh, you know, he said. Because he could not lie to his daughter, but he could not offer the truth either. The truth, neither of them are doing very well. Partial, parallel unraveling. The kitchen remains dormant. There are no trips to the grocery, to the library. Only what is needed for another day to pull over into another night and over again. He looks miserable because he is miserable. Glances he has stolen of her, peering out his bedroom window to watch her get into her car in the mornings, he sees that she has turned sharp again, drawn down and in around the edges. This pain, this sickness, is shared.
He runs through all the ways it could never work while he sits in the slumbering cruiser on the side of the highway. That lull between spring and summer has arrived, all living things bracing and bending beneath inevitable change, quiet in their submission. Life raises its hackles and curls down low to the ground, silent sulk, waiting for new prey, new time. And in the silence, his thoughts grow and gristle.
No, it could not work. He thought that he could, but clearly he couldn’t. Couldn’t be careful enough around all the big and small hurts that trail after her. Because that’s what that was, that night of no, a hurting thing. A wounded, rejected thing. Easier to call it anger. And so was his, the next day, the car, the turn of her shoulder away from him so he could not see the first line of tears fall.
And now it’s just a meanness, isn’t it? Anger that festers and flumes into something bitter and blistering. Easier to be mean about it. Sorry is so very difficult to swallow, after all. This silence, this sharp shuttering out, mean, the both of them digging their thumbs into the places it hurts the most and pretending to enjoy it with grimacing grins. Good for you, good for me, so there. Good for us.
Always, at some point in his shift, somewhere in the middle of the thick night, his thoughts turn small and young. We are born wanting, and we will always return to wanting. And he does, now, lets himself want all of it. Even the pain she caused him, he would take it happily, standing up and smiling. Something poetic could be said, something beautiful, but there is no need for the fuss or frill of it. Simply, he wants her. Urgently, he wants her to stay.
Like all things, the wanting passes just as the night does. Eventually, his grip on the steering wheel unfurls and unfists. Eventually, the light begins to spread a pale blue out across all the ink of the plains. Morning starting to suggest itself, mercy.
He blinks, bleary, a small protest from the engine when he inches the car back onto the road, time to return to the station, want still clearing from the fuzzy periphery of his mind.
It does not scare or startle him, but it does give him pause. Coyotes, fur dunned and dull, matted tufts sticking up over their slinking bodies. They cross the road with no concern for the car, slow languorous placement of paws, the largest of them turning its jaded eyes into the headlights, perhaps a disillusioned sigh, before it continues on its path. Pups trail and trundle behind, nipping at mother’s tail, new energy, new life, and how dangerous, daunting, daring it can be.
He does not go back to the station. He goes home.
Still early, still sleeping, maybe. He does the thing he has been telling himself he shouldn’t. But shouldn’t is what got him here in the first place. Enough of needless shouldn’t.
She is awake. Her hair still damp from a shower, darkening the blue shoulders of her uniform when she opens the door to her room. Her room, the guest room, whatever it is. Confusion is clear in her frown, the pull of her brow. She keeps the door halfway closed, a quiet understanding of distance needed.
“Are you leaving soon?” Shit, stupid, wrong words that got ahead of what he meant to say. And he just made this so much worse, her whole face pinching tight before slackening into something smaller, something sad.
“I am. I’m sorry that I haven’t yet.” Sorry that she hasn’t left yet. Sorry that she didn’t get out sooner. And here he is, rubbing all that sorry in her face.
“No.” All he can think, to quickly slip up his throat to, at the very least, keep her here with half of a closed door between them. Better than the alternative anyways.
“What?”
“That’s not what I want, not at all.” It is selfish to make this about him, but it is all he can think to say, the only truth that seems to be offering itself up. Dove just looks tired, weary and worn, waiting for the catch. What she said, all those months ago. Always a catch, always waiting for it.
“Joel.” A sigh, but still smarting sweet because he hasn’t heard it from her in too long.
“This isn’t working.” Going about this all wrong, he has finally realized. While he has been so afraid of no, of unwanted, he has failed to remember that she was taught a long time ago that wanting was not allowed, and that being wanted was an even worse impossibility. Both of them, lashing out against the same thing, though it’s each other that they leave bleeding.
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m going to try to speak plainly.” What he’s going to do is make her late for her shift if he doesn’t kick whatever courage there is whining in his chest up into his throat. But she shows no sign of rush, wide eyes and the smallest frown.
“Okay.” Okay opens the door fully, though she doesn’t move in invitation, staying separated by the threshold.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“Ever.” Added in the afterthought of silence, because he needs to make himself very clear. Soon, after all.
“I’m not what you want, Joel.” Said with a scoff, a jerky wave of her hand like no, not even going to entertain it. But it’s enough for something soft to snap in him, hands reaching, but not touching, suspended want as he murmurs, or prays maybe, to her you are, you are, you are, Dove.
“But I can’t keep you here. Not if you don’t want it.” Me, he meant to say me. But he thinks that she understands all the same, something slipping behind her eyes.
“I shouldn’t.” Shouldn’t stay, shouldn’t want. A shameful confession that is said to the tips of her shoes more than it is to him.
“I don’t fucking care.”
“You should.”
“Just, please, tell me.”
“I do, okay? Probably more than you do.”
“That’s not true.”
“How can you just say that?”
“Because I know how much I do. And it’s everything.” And that’s it, he wants to say, that’s all that matters and nothing else and you do and I do. Case closed, finally fixed this thing, this lame, limping thing between them. If only it were that simple.
“Do you really?” A leap, or more like a lurch, but pure relief when she lets him, two stuttering steps closer and one palm finding the space between her shoulder blades, the other the hilt of her spine, pulling her into him. His and hers, finding the other’s rhythm. Beat like this, body and blood like this. His mouth settles at the crown of her skull. Here, and nowhere else, not ever again, please.
“Sometimes it makes me sick.” The truth, because there can be nothing else now. Yes, he is sick with it. Sick for her.
“I want to be normal for you.” Muffled into the fabric of his shirt, and the unsaid after of it. I don’t think I can. Like sorry, like penance, her hands curling closer around his shoulders as she starts to shake. But what he can offer her, something still, something sure, his palms drawing her in even more, him breathing her breathing him.
“I’m not asking you for that, Dove.” No, asking for something much bigger, much more terrifying. Asking for all of it.
…
Dove is only a little late to her shift. Joel drops her off, waits a few minutes to make sure there is no grief from Sal about it, not that he was expecting there to be. Replays to himself her explanation, what she told him on the way there.
“I didn’t get the car to leave, not really.”
“You didn’t?”
“Before, I thought it would make things easier.” For him, he realizes, something she had thought of for him. Make things easier for him, not having to pick her up and drop her off and look bored at the library while she browsed. And no, he’s never going to forgive himself for this one.
He doesn’t go back to the diner for lunch, but it’s not for spite or scorn. Agreed-upon space for both of them to think, offering an out for each other, one last opportunity to decide that this is actually a terrible idea.
The sheep accept his presence and it feels like he finally got something right, even a laugh when Judy offers her head to him for a brisk rub beneath her chin.
“She’s coming home, I think. I know you wouldn’t forgive me if she didn’t.” No response, she is a lamb, after all. But he’d like to think that her two hard blinks commend him, already plucking away through the grass toward her mother.
When he does pick her up after her shift, her lips purse trying to pull back a smile as she walks around the front of the car. Hope lifts, winged and real in his chest.
The day steals from the night this time of year. It won’t be dark out until much later. For now, the light is starting to bleed a little, orange syrup and haze filling and flooding the cab of the truck. Nothing is said, but staying is understood when she takes his hand in both of hers, and keeps it for herself, tucked in her lap the whole ride home.
So much of their time together has been spent like this, driving toward and away from town, sometimes silent and sometimes not. A selfish part of him wishes she hadn’t gotten the car, wanting to keep her needing him in this way. But no, he reasons, there will be plenty of other time besides this. No need to be greedy about it.
There is not much food in the kitchen, but there are always eggs. Two for him and two for her. They eat standing up, propped against the counter. And when he moves to wash the dishes in the sink, she catches his wrist. The dishes can wait until the morning.
The thing about Dove is she has always had a curious way of touching him. Literally curious, like she is surprised she is allowed to trace the pads of his fingertips with her own, spirals fitting together. Like she is testing the boundaries of him, finding all the soft places with her palms, spanning his sides and up along his chest, fingers flirting beneath the collar of his shirt, shivering down with it. But before this continues, he must make sure, must ward off that ghost for good. He takes her face in his hands, thumbs settling along the soft curve beneath her eyes, tracing some constant constellation, her cheeks rounding with it.
“I need to know that this is what you want.”
“It is.”
“I need you here. With me.”
“I am, Joel. I am.” This isn’t want, after all. Want isn’t big enough for whatever this is. Something deeper, something threaded in with all the sinew and stretch of bone, ligament, and beating tissue. This is need. Vital and visceral, and so very precarious.
His need makes a foolish fumble out of the buttons of her dress, a laugh dancing beneath the brush of his knuckles, catching somewhere under her sternum when his eyes flicker up to hers. She rolls her lips back into her mouth, trying to tamp down any mirth or mocking, but a huff still slips out, smile threatening at the edges. How easy, how lovely, fitting the curve of his own against hers. That laugh turns into a sigh that he swallows.
And it was never about letting or allowing, never about being big or strong enough to scare off all her specters. What has changed, he isn’t sure. But waiting, he has found, is often a solution in itself. Maybe just the mercy of enough time, enough space shared and understood. Brains finally catching up to bodies, deciding yes, now is good.
Need makes animals stupid. A caught thing, captured and crumpled thing, will gnaw off its own limb in need of escape. A hungry, hungered thing will turn so desperate, so singular and silly in its need. It will take whatever sate it can get. Hands and skin and teeth and tongues. And in the kitchen no less, still hungry, still needing. Jawing up each other, and humming at the taste. Feast and fire and flood all in one.
Her mouth settles sharp along the tendons in his neck, humming there as he curls over her to shrug her dress down and down into a pool around her feet. A little snarl, a little curl of her lip, preening when his palms squeeze her hips, coaxing her closer into his chest. She is far more schooled in the work she makes of his shirt, and then, missed this. Missed skin against skin and heart straining to press against heart. Missed the run of his fingers down her ribs, the quick catch at her waist. He only got it once before, a blink compared to this, but he has been missing it ever since, a sigh now that he has it again. Has her again. And Dove, still learning how she gets to have him.
“Can I?” A kiss to her brow, a smear of words whatever you want, Dove. Tentative at first, she presses her mouth to the hollow where his throat slips into clavicle, letting her nose run a line out to the edge of bone, to shoulder, enough sense to turn her a little bolder, fingers curling into the waist of his jeans, tugging. And it is not graceful, silly, stupid, needing bodies curling and caving into each other. His legs splay out long as he settles back against the cabinets below the sink, Dove furling into his lap, the perfect spread of her thighs at his hips.
A lesson in the anatomy of need. Here is how. How a body can give and take everything it needs from another body. So simple, really. Open mouths and muscles slackening sweet and syrupy to make space for more, more, more. She keens when he turns his face into the curve of her breast, fingers curling in his hair, holding him there in the cradle of her heartbeat, his ears rushing with it.
It is not pretty, it is not about making it perfect, or even right. It is a desperate seeking, it is relief from this need in the way they just manage to shrug his jeans and boxers down over his thighs, in the way she slips the faded cotton of her underwear to the side. Wet for him, wanting for him, he will have to sate the want to see some other time. For now, feeling, all sense and singe, spreading her open until her hips settle down against his. A broken, murmuring sound in the back of her throat, eyes scrunched shut. He brings his hand to her jaw, thumb stroking along the hinge as he calls to her, let me see, Dovey, please. Hello, lashes flutter first, and the slow slip open. Hello, looking at him, her forehead against his, her mouth resting open and panting against his.
They move ugly, muscles jumping and jolting, sharp breaths that break and swell in their chests. Skin starts to stick, he holds her closer and chases down their pleasure, shared and searing.
In the kitchen, she crashes with a cry of his name, her face hidden in the curve of his neck, mouth to pulse.
In the kitchen, she whispers and wills him right over his own edge, her name, more sob than sound.
In the kitchen, he would feed her his heart if he could. It’s hers anyways.
…
Want is a child. But need is an animal. Need is base, bruising, battering. There is no escaping need. There is no lying about need. There is only offering it up, and hoping that someone will see it and decide yes, animal, come here, let me do something about your need, and you can do something about mine.
Later, after they pick their clothes up off the kitchen floor, kind hands setting things back into place for each other, they slink outside to care for the flock, the sun starting to flirt back behind the mountains with a fierce blush. It’s then, surrounded by the low murmurings of sheep, that she whispers her own need to him, tucked into his side, her cheek pressed against his chest.
He nods, says yes, okay. He can do that for her. And she will do the same for him.
For now, all that matters is staying. Ghosts yet to be greeted and goaded out of their house. But for now, spring is rolling over to expose its soft, slumbering belly. Soon, summer will sink in, snarling and bright, a new list of chores and duties with every season. They will do it together.
For now, the lambs are still lambs. Stumbling still around the edges, seeking out their mother even amidst her seeming exasperation, tired of their clinging, their closeness. Time yet to be had, getting older and bigger every day. But for now, they are young and soft, and nipping after each other in the field.
For now, the feeling of her ribs expanding and contracting against his side is all the goodness he could want, or even need. Pain yet to be understood in all the places that her breath catches. But for now, she is looking at him and smiling, and saying something about the sheep that makes him laugh.
For now, it is enough.
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taglist: @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @joelsgreys @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @trulybetty @softlyspector @noisynightmarepoetry @csarab615 @ratoonstown @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes @beskarandblasters @motherofagony
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#tlou#tlou fanfiction#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#the last of us#joel miller smut#joel miller series#joel miller story#joel miller fic#joel miller fics#joel miller au#deliver me from nowhere
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Im sorry I think I heard someone say angel Luigi? Like oddly born with wings? Learns to hid them? Magic? Maybe some sort of creature that latched on to baby Mario’s cries as a child? Shifted to match him but has the wings? Maximum Ride vibes? Hmmmmm. Trigun vibes? Maybe a lil bit of both!
Ok hear me out. But I warn you this isnt my typical post. Im tired and cold so it’s a mess but maybe ill clean it up later. Who knows.
Mario’s family was super freaked out at first but accepted it cause of how much it helped Mario. Like maybe he was sickly as a baby but this odd creature who looks like him is helping. Doctors told him he was gonna die. Now it’s a miracle. So they just raise Luigi too. Well guarded family secret. Maybe thats why Mario is so protective of his brother. Their mother believes Luigi an angel sent to save her lil baby boy. Their father thinks him a demon who will one day eat their little boy. Why else would it be helping if not for it’s next meal he claims. Luigi has no idea why he was sent here. Never a good enough reason for their father. Maybe their mother and Mario are the only two who really accept Luigi, rest of family share the fathers pov.
Idk how to tie this into bowuigi but just let me think of the middle part for now think of the end game!
Bowser finds an injured winged Luigi. Slap that man in a bird cage. Oops thats Luigi’s biggest fear. (Did you papa traumatise you Luigi or was it just me) anyway mans having a horrible time at all the bird puns. Yoikes hes heard those before get creative Bowser smh. Oops did he say that outloud? Well now Bowser is pissed. Someone is lucky their so pretty up in that cage. Oops did he say that outloud? Well now Luigi is blushing. GET THIS MAN SOME SKIPPY CLOTHING AND A GOLDEN CAGE NOW! Well now Luigi is mortified and horrified. Hes just a decoration now. Or a pet! Awww maybe they can give him a little collar. Oh how humiliating. Whats he got left now? Probably no more tears at this point. Hey Bowsers new pet doesn’t look so good. Oops someone stopped eating. Maybe actually be nice idk man you killing Luigi from the inside. Look at those soulless eyes. You did that Bowser you happy?
Cut to Bowser trying to bring some life back to Luigi. Awww hes making sure hes ok. Getting him food. An actual bed? A room? Who said the beast doesn’t have a heart? This is how Luigi remembers the story. Though he doesn’t understand why Bowser had a change. Of course Bowser saw the soulless eyes of someone begging for death and realised he done fucked up. Of course he never thought he would have greenie over this long anyway. Wheres that red pain in his side. It’s been ages? (Oops Mario is injured and thats why Luigi had his wings out. From protecting his brother. Maybe ill put Mario in a coma for sillies)
Anyway ever so slowly Luigi gets some pep back in his step. Though hes clearly more reserved. The kids (yes plural) helped. But Bowser can see the longing in Luigi’s eyes. The way the man just looks to the sky like an old friend. They had just started really getting along too. But if you love something set it free right? So he does. And Luigi doesn’t even hesitate. The moment he is uncollared (yea baby thats last to go lmao) and outside. The moment Bowser tells him to go he just takes off. As fast has those beautiful wings can take him. Can I get an F in the chat for Bowser and his broken heart.
Luigi is frantic to see how his brother is. Consumed with worry almost his whole stay in Bowsers castle. He could feel their link, their bond, and knew his brother needed him. Of course once he reaches Mario and grasps his hand Mario wakes up. Awww brotherly love (and nothing else ya goobers) is a magical sight. Literally Luigi is glowing and has wings. Neat says princess Peach.
Maybe once he is sure his brother is oi he can feel love sick about Bowser. And misses the kids. Now it’s Mario’s turn to see the longing look in Luigi’s eyes. Mario’s turn ti tell Luigi it’s ok to just go. Though he better tell his brother whats going on when he gets back. But maybe since im such a kind god ill make it painful for Luigi to show his wings. Like painful when they sprout. So he just walks to Bowsers castle. Who is probably smad. Lmao hes sad and mad. Though word filtered in of Mario being in a coma and he figured thats why Luigi needed to go. Anyway hes probably relieved to see Luigi back. So relieved he can feel mad about not even getting a goodbye. Oopsies. But they will make it. Im sure of it.
Ok I know this post is a mess but man I had to get this idea out of my head. I wanna draw it. And I just might.
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By Turns
Chapter Two
Masterlist
The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC. Other pairings to be added.
Other featured characters: Elain Archeron, Lucien Vanserra, Azriel. Variable POV
Rating: E for Explicit. Minors DNI.
Warnings: misogyny, violence, torture and domestic abuse both on and off screen, sex, sexual violence, dubious consent, drug use, character death, no reliable narrators to be found. Further warnings to be added.
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A/N: Aisling's dress (5 of 6).
———————
Aisling was sixty seven years old and had never seen the sun. The day dawned grey, as it always did; she knew no different.
She settled herself into the rhythms of her day: breakfast with her mother that the servants had prepared, reading or sewing or taking a stroll with a friend in the morning, reviewing information from the diamond mine in the afternoon.
Diamonds were the principal export of the City, and her family was fortunate enough to have a majority share in one of the largest of the four mines. They were wealthy because of it, and Aisling always thought this gave her more freedom than other females were granted. She was cautious not to take advantage of this, knowing full well what happened to females when goodwill ran out.
Without a male relative and with wives forbidden from inheriting property, the share had passed - unexpectedly - to her when her father died. Between this and the strength of her magic, Aisling could keep herself well insulated from the worst of the City beasts. She knew this could not last forever; the Hewn City was a closed cage, and in their boredom and fury at being trapped, no occupant was left undisturbed.
Her father had gone Under the Mountain - not her mountain, the other one - when she was eleven and died there when she was forty. She hadn’t seen him in the intervening twenty nine years, but her mother had told her dispassionately and Aisling had been savvy enough not to ask for details.
They never received a body, either. Her father had simply left and never returned. His corpse could have been burned or buried in an unmarked grave or flung into the sea, or perhaps there wasn’t a body left at all and the High Lord had nightmisted him and his body was now air. Aisling didn’t know, but they had his urn sealed in the family crypt as if he had been brought home. She visited him occasionally though she never knew what to say to him. I’m sorry, I loved you, you were nothing to me, who were you? Where did you go?
He had disciplined her no more than any other court father in the Hewn City, but she had been a well-behaved only child. Her only major transgression occurred when her power manifested in a sudden, sickening rush in her tenth year, but he never struck her for that. He often did not seem to know what to do with her, leaving her to her sewing and reading and dancing while he served in Lord Keir’s legion. He probably would have preferred her if she were male; daughters received far fewer privileges than sons in the City and wives even less.
He had died without arranging a marriage for her, something she had resented when she was younger but thanked his spirit for whenever she saw her peers tugging their sleeves down or cloistered away for days on end. Her mother had no interest in marrying her off, chiefly because that meant she herself would then need to re-marry, and hundreds of years beside a Night Court soldier had soured her to the prospect.
She had skated by for sixty seven years, learning to play act and fade from view, binding her mask to her face so tightly she sometimes couldn’t remember what she truly felt at night, alone in her bedroom. In some ways it was easier: if she actually felt nothing she wouldn’t need to pretend, so purging her emotions as ruthlessly as possible protected her by keeping her from slipping up. In this way she kept herself from being memorable, from attracting attention.
Lord Keir knew who she was, though, and what she could do; after all, it was him who summoned her father and herself to his home that horrible night when she was ten. He hadn’t forgotten her. Aisling doubted he would.
She had to come up with a plan to get out of the City. It was her home, it was all she knew, but she wanted to know more. Anger was the wage of every occupant of the City - who didn’t want to leave? Who didn’t resent being trapped here? - but hers was tinged with desperation.
Lord or lowborn, high fae or lesser, they all wanted more, and the anger and fear went around like Xian whispers.
Everyone was still talking about Eoin by the time of the celebratory dinner. It had been frightening, the way the Illyrian had grabbed him as if he was nothing, as if he was an animal. As Eoin struggled against him, darkness gathered around them like someone had flung a shawl over them, and then they were gone. In the morning, only the Illyrian had emerged. Eoin was simply vanished.
Like her father, Aisling supposed. The High Lord had addressed them all in a cold, vicious voice from his throne, telling them what fate awaited them if he heard any more threats against him or his family. Had Eoin threatened them? Aisling had heard a parcel of rumours, multiple versions of the story - only Eoin knew the truth, but they would never see him again.
The Darkbringer officers had been speaking in tense knots all through the reception, and Aisling could feel the energy in the room crackling around like lightning. She had been invited due to her father’s - now hers - majority share in one of the main diamond mines, and she now sorely regretted attending though she did her best to play her part. She smiled and made polite conversation with the steward’s wife, Lady Niamh.
And then Eris Vanserra was sat near her.
Her eyes were drawn to his hair like a magnet. No one had red hair in the Hewn City, and though Aisling had seen him from a distance in the throne room a handful of times, she had never been so close to him. Never close enough to see the high cheekbones, the aristocratic nose, the absolute vibrancy of him. He was pale enough to be from the City, but there was something about him, something fierce and hot and alive in a way they were not. His magic, maybe, so unlike anything in her home; or maybe it was just him, just that he was flame made flesh. Aisling felt very strongly that if she touched a single one of his elegant, long fingers she would be scalded and bear a scar.
They all said he would succeed his father and it was obvious why. He was power, and was radiant with it.
Lest she be caught, she kept her attention carefully away from him. She told herself she could look twice more if she did not err in conversation or make a misstep. But the harder she tried not to look, the more she felt conscious of herself, her face, the way she smiled; she felt edgy and nervous. She could hear his voice, the lilting drawl of it, smoky and rich. His scent - cedar, woodsmoke, something crisp and wild and fresh - was so enticing to her that she could no longer resist. Just once, Aisling told herself. Look at him once then never again. Lord Keir is right there and watching.
She swept her eyes along the table, and as if he were a magnet, her eyes met his. All at once she was hot all over, her stomach dropping to the floor. His amber eyes saw straight through her… and he sneered.
Aisling kept herself still and did not react only through practice. Embarrassment snapped at her, but she lowered her eyes demurely back to her wine and did not glance his way again. She supposed she wasn’t surprised; most lovely things in Night were terribly vicious. Beauty and cruelty were hardly exclusive of each other.
That night, she dreamt of a warmth she had never felt under a sun she had never seen.
———————
Eris didn’t return to the Hewn City for a month. In that time he fucked two raven-haired females, mounting them both from behind. He didn’t wish to see their eyes, their faces; they obliged him. Like most of his partners, he kept things impersonal, dismissing them as soon as they were finished. He had learned well from his brother’s mistakes.
He was kept busy in Autumn towns Beron had neglected over the centuries, telling his father he was shoring up loyalty and looking after the coffers in the fallout from Koschei and Briallyn; in reality, he was quietly looking after the populace. With Beron still living he couldn’t make the large changes he desired, but he could put his finger on the scale now and again.
Unfortunately it was never enough, and there would be more misery and death before he managed to kill Beron. Eris had accepted this reality long ago, but it still cut him afresh every time. His people deserved far better.
But he could further buy loyalty among the courtiers by increasing the supply of diamonds in Autumn, Eris thought witheringly as he winnowed to the Hewn City. Orphans were starving but as long as their mistresses had diamond necklaces, all was as it should be. It had its role, of course; he couldn’t ensure a smooth transition with a court that was too fractured, but he didn’t have to like it. He liked very little to do with Night, in truth.
Keir was meeting him with several other invested courtiers to further discuss the trade agreement. No Thanatos this time; nothing to do with the Darkbringers. All the better given that Rhysand had executed one last month. Eris imagined that was a wound that would not be easily healed, but didn’t bring it up.
In the chamber, diamonds were spilled over the table casually, spread out like marbles children would play with. Their lustre and crisp clarity was unique to the Hewn City mines, and he had never seen so many in one place. They were highly valued outside of Night but there were precious few merchants and dealers allowed to trade with other Courts - the High Lords kept the leash on the Hewn City chokingly tight.
The wealth heaped on that table was staggering. No wonder Rhysand kept Feyre slathered in elaborate diamond dresses and crowns.
The assembled courtiers around the table were all male, all pale and stone-faced like they were carved from rock themselves. That sort of mask was beaten into them from birth, he knew well enough. But at the end of the carved onyx table, furthest from him and Keir, sat the blue-eyed female from the dinner. Here she wore a violet and black dress, cut enticingly away in diamonds around the waist that showed her pale skin. While the neckline of the dress dipped low enough for him to admire the gentle swell of her cleavage, she wore a diamond necklace that hid the best of the view from him. Her bare arms were cuffed with more diamonds, and if there were sunlight, she would have glittered like an exotic butterfly.
Instead, she was merely a vehicle to further display their obscene hoard of diamonds. Keir waved a hand and introduced the courtiers, naming her last.
“Lady Aisling,” Keir said dismissively, giving no further justification to her presence. Aisling dipped her gaze demurely, and Eris willed her to look up, to let him look in her eyes once more. He waited as long as he dared in a crowded room, then took his seat and began to negotiate.
Aisling didn’t say a word the entire time. He didn’t expect her to, given what the Hewn City valued in its females, and he wondered why her presence was necessary at all. She seemed to be actually reading the documents, though; and she paid keen attention to whoever was speaking. Perhaps she had a brain in her skull instead of more diamonds rattling around, he thought dismissively; a shame the Hewn City ground females into dust instead of letting them show an ounce of will and intelligence.
If she had to wear a mask, far be it from him to out her, though he sparked with curiosity to know. His answer to the mystery of her presence came when they reached an agreement as to a fixed volume to be exported and her signature was required - she held a large percentage of the mine.
Wealthy, then. And no husband, or else he would be here in her stead speaking for her, and she would be tied to his bed frame. He wondered what opinion on the agreement she actually held, muted as she was.
As Keir led the courtiers out, business concluded for the day, Eris found himself unable to resist. Her necklace was elaborate, a crescent moon tipped on its side with an open eye in the middle, worked in diamonds - predictably - and onyx.
“Your necklace,” he said.
Aisling turned to gaze at him, her face ethereal in the dim fae light. She glanced towards the door once, at the retreating backs of the courtiers; he understood well enough that he had perhaps moments to speak with her. No more than a minute, but that was all he needed.
Males would drown in those eyes, he mused as she looked back at him. As unknowable as the ocean. Her polite smile didn’t change, but he had the sense she was studying him, making sense of his pieces. The diamond eye around her neck, balanced in the tines of the crescent moon, glittered at him darkly.
“What does it mean?” He asked, his voice low.
“My family’s sigil. For our gift - for the eye in here, my lord,” she explained, and she touched his brow with one finger so lightly Eris could have imagined it. Her wrist brought her scent to him, dark and floral in equal measures. His blood sang as soon as he caught it, magic humming under his ribs, in his lungs. His mouth watered.
He couldn’t help himself. It was almost instinct that made him take her wrist, circling it lightly with his forefinger and thumb. Her wrist was so slim, the bones so fine, he knew he could grind them to dust if he wanted; her wary dark eyes swallowed him up and knew it too. He held those sapphire eyes as he brushed his lips against her palm and was rewarded by her pulse suddenly racing under his thumb.
The scent of her… he breathed in once more, deeply, unable to pull away. Her face didn’t change but her eyes were liquid, darting between his and his mouth, and he could feel her pulse racing like a little rabbit in his snare.
“My lord,” she whispered, and the spell was broken. He released her, but she didn’t move for a long moment, hand fluttering down to her side, holding his gaze. He couldn’t read whatever was in her eyes, but she finally dipped her head, curtsying to him, and she fled in a swirl of violet silk. His last sight of her was the raven feather comb in her hair, her slim, pale arms glittering. Her scent left with her, and whatever had been building in him deflated as it did. After that, he couldn’t leave the Hewn City soon enough.
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Stellarlune Paperback Edition Marella Short Story
Hello, wonderful Keeper readers! Some of you might already know that I love to sneak a little something extra into the paperback versions of my books whenever I can (since I don't think hardcover readers should get to be the only ones who sometimes find fun bonuses). For those who didn't know that: surprise! ☺
I knew I wanted to include a story from Marella's POV this time. Not only is she on the cover (looking fierce and fabulous!) and a fan-favorite character, but she also had some key scenes in Stellarlune that we only got to "hear" about. The Keeper books are limited to Sophie's POV, so I can only include moments where Sophie is present—and since Sophie didn't go with Marella to her meetings with Fintan, we only learn what Marella tells Sophie later. But what if there was something Marella didn't share?
Over the next few pages, you can watch one of Marella's conversations with Fintan play out in real time and hear all Marella's thoughts and reactions to what's happening. I've called this story "The Trade"—and I've worked in lots of fun little extra details (some of which might even turn out to be important later…*wink*). For those wondering, this story is based on a scene in chapter 31 of Stellarlune—and if you haven't read Stellarlune yet: SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! Reading this first will probably be confusing and will also give away a few tidbits too early. You'll be much happier if you start by reading Stellarlune and then come back here for all the Marella fun once you're done.
Happy reading!
—Shannon Messenger
THE TRADE
Marella
“Ugh, I hate this place,” Marella muttered, shaking the freshly fallen snowflakes out of her gilded blond hair much harder than necessary and yanking her thick velvet cape tighter around her narrow shoulders.
She said the same thing every time she had to trudge through the knee-high snowdrifts and found herself staring at the icicle-crusted entrance to the now familiar cave. Didn't matter how many times she'd gone there—or how important her visits were.
She was never not going to dread making the long, slippery trek down to Fintan's frozen cell. The cave looked like some sort of open-mouthed snow beast Mating to devour everything in its path—which was probably intentional, since the prison was designed to be as miserable as possible.
Especially for someone like her.
The goblin guards even gave her pitying stares as they moved aside to reveal the endless icy path that wound down and down and down a whole lot more to a place where the tiniest glimmer of heat had long since been swallowed up by the suffocating cold.
No amount of clothing could keep Marella warm in the heart of the prison. She'd actually tried wearing so many layers that she'd looked like an overstuffed gulon and she still couldn't stop shivering. And the whole "body temperature regulation" thing wasn't exactly possible when she had to use so much concentration to make sense of Fintan's ranting.
It wasn't fair.
Everyone else got to train their special abilities in fancy rooms at Foxfire, with Mentors who weren't creepy, unstable murderers.
But they weren't Pyrokinetics.
Marella was lucky the Council was letting her use her ability at all.
They could just as easily label her Talentless, kick her out of their snobby academy, and ban her from ever sparking another flame.
Or they could decide she was too dangerous and lock her away.
In fact, Marella wouldn't have been surprised at all if the Council was already building an icy cage just for her—but the thought still made her shiver and she wished she could have manifested as…
Nope.
She stopped herself from finishing that sentence.
If life had taught her anything, it was that there's no point wanting things that were never going to happen.
Instead, she focused on the thin beams of sunlight streaking through a gap in the gloomy gray clouds. The light was far from warm, but if she really concentrated, she could feel a hint of lingering heat tangled among the brightness.
She called the warmth closer and soaked it in—let it pool under her skin, pounding with her pulse, swelling with every heartbeat. Growing hotter and hotter and hotter until…
Snap!
A flick of her fingers sent a small tangle of flames sparking to life above her left palm.
"Feel better?" Linh asked as Marella let out a long, slow sigh.
Marella nodded—though she definitely could've done without the whispers that were now hissing around her head.
The flames had a soft, crackly voice. And they always made the same plea.
Feed me.
Feed me.
Feed me.
Fire craved fuel—constantly wanting more, more, more—and it would've been so easy for Marella to let the fire swell bigger and bigger and bigger.
But that was the kind of thing that would lead to a lifetime of shivering in an underground ice cube, so she forced her gaze to shift to Linh, who stood in a small, snowless circle surrounded by a halo of hovering snowflakes—-none daring to touch her long silver-tipped hair or shimmery purple cape.
Marella knew how hard Linh had fought to achieve that level of control, and how tentative Linh's hold over her ability still was. But the fact Linh could stand in a sea of frozen water and do nothing except keep the falling snow from settling on her flushed pink cheeks was very…
Annoying.
Then again, everyone annoyed Marella a little.
Her dad used to call her "fiery" long before he realized how accurate that description truly was.
But it wasn't Marella's fault!
People tended to be annoying.
Especially a Hydrokinetic who was currently looking all peaceful and pretty and perfect while making snowflakes flutter and spin in intricate patterns.
That didn't mean Marella wasn't also grateful that Linh was willing to tag along to her Pyrokinetic lessons. it was nice to see a friendly face after hours of Fintan's rambling. Plus, it seemed like a good idea to have someone with water powers around while she practiced setting things on fire.
They were even finding some pretty cool ways to work together. Fire and water might be opposites—but that didn't mean they couldn't be combined. Marella had actually figured out a way to ignite Linh's rain, and she couldn't wait to use that little trick on the Neverseen—assuming those black-cloaked losers ever showed up again.
For a fearsome, unstoppable rebellion, they sure spend a lot of time hiding.
"Are you going to start by asking him about the cache or do the lesson first?" Linh asked, reminding Marella why they were there.
Marella shrugged. "Depends on Fintan's mood."
Sometimes he was already babbling about some fancy new fire trick when she arrived, as if he'd started the lesson without bothering to wait for her. Other times she couldn't get anywhere with him until she'd let him go on and on and on about how foolish the Council was, or how badly he'd been wronged, or how much he missed the feel of a flickering flame—and she didn't necessarily blame him for the last one.
Part of her wanted to hold on to her fireball forever.
Make it her smoky little pet.
Instead, she curled her fingers into a fist and snuffed it out—but she didn't let all the heat dissipate. She called a single tingling glint deeper, letting it sear through her veins and settle into her heart.
She knew it was a risky move, even with all the defenses she wrapped around it. But she couldn't bear the cold emptiness of Fintan's prison without a least a tiny fleck of warmth tucked away.
A secret spark whispering, I'm here. You're not alone.
"Okay," she said, weaving a few strands of her hair together to clam her twitchy fingers. She'd picked up the nervous habit years ago—after her mom's accident—and the tiny braids were kind of her trademark now. "i guess I should stop stalling and head down to deal with Sir Creepysparks, huh?"
Linh smiled. "Probably. Unless you want to rehearse what you're going to say."
"Nah. I'm just going to offer him an ugly flower—that doesn't exactly need a big speech. Oh, but that reminds me…"
She reached into her cape pocket and pulled out the spiky dark blue Noxflare—which looked more like a dying weed than a super-rare flower—and held it up to the guards. "Mr. Forkle already checked this before I brought it here, to make sure it's safe for me to offer to Fintan. but I figured you'd want to check it too."
"We do," they agreed in unison as one of the biggest, deadliest-looking guards took the Noxflare from Marella and brought it over to the other goblins.
A lot of mumbling about potential kindling and fire hazards followed.
Eventually, the guards decided to quick-freeze the Noxflare into a block of ice in case there was any heat stored inside.
"Whoa," Marella said when the scary guard returned with the flower-filled ice cube—which had turned out as big as her head. "How heavy is that thing?"
The guard studied Marella's skinny arms. "I can carry it for you if you'd like."
"That'd probably be smart." Marella was pretty sure she'd drop it, or her fingers would freeze off during the long walk—and using telekinesis would drain her mental energy. "But can you stay out of sight? I was planning to tell Fintan he can only see his weird flower thing if he gives me access to his memories, and that's kinda ruined if there's a giant goblin holding it right next to me.
Not that it made the plan any less pointless.
Fintan was obviously going to turn her down.
He's already made it super clear that the only trade he was interested in was for his freedom—which was never going to happen.
Marella doubted a dying flower frozen in ice was suddenly going to make him be like, You know what? Who needs out of this horrible prison when I can have that!
But she was out of other ideas.
And Sophie wanted her to try the Noxflare thing, so…
Whatever.
Marella didn't care about Sophie's current power trip the way Stina did.
As long as she didn't have to be the one coming up with all the plans—or almost dying all the time—Marella was fine following orders. Especially if she got to say I told you so when they turned out to be a huge waste of time.
"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" Linh asked as Marella pulled thick gloves onto her hands. "Fintan likes me."
Marella wasn't sure if "like" was the right word, since Fintan didn't seem to like anybody. But he'd definitely been impressed with Linh.
He'd demanded to speak with "the Hydrokinetic" after Marella mentioned she practiced her pyrokinesis with Linh, so Marella had convinced the goblin guards to let Linh down into the prison. And when Fintan asked for a demonstration of Linh's ability to ensure she wouldn't "hinder his training," Linh had stirred up all the ice shards on his floor and made them rain around him like he was trapped inside a snow globe—which actually made him applaud.
Apparently, most Hydrokinetics struggled to manipulate water in its solid form, and were limited to liquid water or water vapor.
But not Linh.
Of course.
Marella was pretty sure that Linh was more powerful than any of her other friends.
"Well, if you need me, you know where to find me," Linh said as Marella forced her feet to carry her into the cave. "I'll just be here, making another snow menagerie." She flicked her wrist and wove the hovering snowflakes into a soaring alenon.
"Ugh, at least make some ugly creatures this time," Marella called over her shoulder. "I want to see a row of snow ghouls when I get back here. Or a giant Princess Purryfins!"
Linh gasped. "Princess Purryfins is not ugly! I'm going to tell her you said that!"
Marella laughed. "I'm sure you will."
She would've teased Linh more about her ridiculous obsession with her pet murcat, but the frigid air from the prison hit Marella hard, and she had to lock her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
At least she didn't have to make the journey by herself this time.
Marella could hear the scary goblin guard keeping pace several steps behind her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim blue light cast by a series of glowing spheres dangling from the ceiling. The downward slope grew steeper with each winding curve, and Marella was always tempted to try sliding down the icy floor instead of walking—but she'd probably end up crashing into one of the weird ice thrones outside Fintan's cell. And she knew better than anyone that injuries couldn't always be healed.
Plus, the trudge gave her a chance to add extra defenses to the heat she'd tucked away in her chest.
She often wondered if Fintan had hidden a few sparks of his own when he was arrested. After all, he had to know the Council would put him on ice for the rest of eternity. Wouldn't he try to preserve what little heat he could?
But Marella had stretched out her senses a zillion different ways and never felt the slightest tingle of warmth when she was around him. So either there was nothing to find or Fintan was that good.
She had a horrible feeling it was the latter, and he was waiting for just the right moment to reveal his grand plan—but that wasn't the kind of thing she should be thinking about before having to face him.
Still, she spent the next few turns trying to figure out what she'd do if she were right.
Her feet turned numb while she plotted, and her bones were officially aching by the time the path widened— the only warning that they were getting close to Fintan's cell.
A few curves later, his cage came into view: a stark, icy bubble in the center of a circular cavern.
The round wall was reflective on the inside, so even though Marella could see Fintan pacing along the edge of his frozen barricade, he wouldn't be able to see her until she triggered the sensor by sitting in one of the freezing thrones positioned at the only point Fintan could peer through.
He looked extra tired that day—his sky blue eyes sunken by more shadows than usual, and he kept muttering under his breath about incompetence as he tucked his messy blond hair behind his pointy ears with a bit more force than necessary.
Marella glanced back at the scary guard, making sure he'd ducked into the shadows near the back of the cell before she made her big appearance. Then she took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her heart, reaching for her secret spark of warmth one last time before plopping into the closest ice throne.
"Awwwww, looks like you missed me," she said, tossing back her hair and flashing her brightest smile.
She liked to start her visits by showing Fintan she wasn't afraid of him—even if she totally was.
But Fintan didn't glance her way.
"I'm not in the mood for games," he warned as he continued his slow march around his cell.
"Neither am I" Marella assured him, deciding that was her cue to start with the cache. She sat up taller, trying to look extra confident as she added, "But I do have an awesome trade to offer you!"
Fintan sighed. "If this is about my cache, I already told you what I'm willing to accept. Unless you're here to grant me a day of freedom—"
"I'm definitely not. But! I found something you should like even better." She paused, hoping the extra bit of anticipation would somehow make her offer sound more exciting when she told him. "Noxflares!"
Fintan scrunched his slender nose. "What are Noxflares, and why would I care about them?"
Marella tilted her head, trying to tell if he was faking.
She hadn't expected him to jump around or applaud or anything—but she had expected him to at least know what Noxflares were.
Then again, his mind had been shattered and pieced back together so many times, his memories had to be in shambles—and Ancient minds tended to be a total mess anyway, since they were crammed with thousands of years of information and the past and present blurred together.
"Would it help if I told you I stopped by your old estate on my way here?" she asked, "Your garden could use some gnomish help, by the way. All the plants have turned into a giant dying tangle. But I dug around and managed to find this scraggly vine with dark pointy flowers—and I hear that plant is special to you, so I picked a few and—"
"You picked my Noxflares?" Fintan snapped, rushing to the wall of his cell and pressing his palms against the ice. "You must let me see them!"
Marella's lips curled into a huge smirk. "I thought you didn't know what they were."
Fintan gritted his teeth so hard, it sounded like cracking ice.
"Hey, I'm not saying I won't share. Buuuuuuuuuuut it'll cost you—and I'm pretty sure you can already guess what I want." She paused for another beat before she added, "Just so we're clear: I'll show you one of your Noxflares if you open your cache and show me what's inside."
Fintan's jaw tightened even more and his hands curled into fists.
But he didn't say no.
He didn't say anything—which was definitely new.
Marella had already offered him a long list of trade suggestions that she, Linh, Maruca, and Stina had all come up with—some really cool ones! And Fintan had shot each one down before she could even finish the offer.
She couldn't believe he looked so tempted by an ugly flower.
but as the silence dragged on, Marella started to wonder if she'd misread the situation.
maybe she'd pushed him too hard—taunted him too much—and now Fintan was letting her sit there in the cold, knowing the icy throne was turning her butt and legs numb.
She was trying to decide if she could make standing up look like a power move when Fintan told her, "Fine. You have a deal—but since you're only offering one Noxflare, I'll only show you one memory."
Marella barely stopped herself from blurting out, SERIOUSLY?
"Orrrrrrrrrrrrrr," she said instead, wanting to kick herself for not bringing more Noxflares with her. The whole thing had just seemed so silly—and the first few she'd picked had crumbled to dust. But the vine had lots more flowers, so she could fix the mistake super easily. "How about I go back, grab eight more Noxflares, and then you show me all nine memories?"
Fintan grinned. "Tempting. But one Noxflare is really all I need."
Need?
Marella wasn't a fan of that wording.
But before she could ask him what he needed it for, he added, "My offer expires in ten seconds," and started counting down.
By "six" she decided that one memory was better than nothing.
"Fine," she said, pulling the cache from her pocket and holding the marble-size orb up to the light. "But you go first. How do I open this thing?"
No way was she going to risk letting him back out—especially since he probably wasn't going to be happy when he saw his precious flower was stuck in the middle of a giant ice cube.
Fintan held out his hand. "Give me the cache, and I'll open it."
Marella laughed. "Hard pass."
"Ah, but you don't have a choice. I'm the only one who can access the memories. And I need to make physical contact with the cache in order to do so."
Marella squinted at the tiny gadget.
She didn't know much about caches—aside from the fact that only Councillors used them and that each colorful inner crystal held a single Forgotten Secret. But she did know that Dex had already tried everything he could think of to open the cache and failed—and he was one of the best Technopaths ever.
"Do I need to start counting down again?" Fintan asked. "I believe we'd gotten to five…"
Marella chewed her lip. "Uh, how do I know you're not going to destroy the cache or try to hold it for ransom or something?"
Fintan's smile was colder than his cell. "You'll just have to trust me."
"Yeah, I don't see that happening."
Fintan shrugged. "Then our deal is off."
Marella rolled her eyes. "Come on. Even if I wanted to, it's not like I can open your cell door and hand the cache to you."
She wasn't even sure if his cell had a door. The wall looked like one big solid piece of ice.
"You've proven to be very resourceful during our lessons," Fintan reminded her.
"Yeah, but—"
"It's your call," he interrupted. "If you want a memory, you'll have to trust me."
She snort-laughed—but before she could get another word out, he repeated, "You'll just have to trust me." And she could tell that was the only response he was going to give.
She turned to the scary guard, who had started pacing in the shadows. "Is there a way to pass Fintan a small item?"
"Ah, you have a hidden goblin escort—I knew you were resourceful!" Fintan clapped his hands. "And yes, there is a way to pass me my cache, otherwise I wouldn't have suggested it. Any guard can open the disgraceful tube they pass my horrid, frozen bits of food through. The cache should fit nicely."
The guard gripped his sword. "I cannot allow any unauthorized item to enter his cell."
Fintan clicked his tongue. "Clearly you're not considering the fact that I've already had plenty of chances to make this trade—and turned them all down. Do you think I would do that if the cache was even remotely useful to me?"
The goblin couldn't argue with that logic.
Neither could Marella.
And when Fintan went back to counting down, she told the guard, "The Black Swan knows I've been trying to make this trade—and they're working with the Council now. No one would let me do this if they thought the cache was dangerous."
Then again, they'd never discussed the possibility of handing the cache over to Fintan—but surely someone must've considered that during all their endless talking and obsessive overplanning…right?
Besides, if anything went wrong, she could always remind them that this was Sophie's idea.
"I don't like this," the scary guard growled. But Marella gave him her I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing glare until he set the frozen Noxflare down with a particularly dramatic thud, snatched the cache, and spent an eternity squinting at the tiny crystal, spinning it all different ways. "If anything happens, my priority will be subduing the prisoner—not protecting you. Are you certain you want to take that risk?"
Marella absolutely wasn't.
But…this might be their only shot at seeing one of Fintan's Forgotten Secrets.
Plus, she had her tiny little spark buddy she could call on if she needed. Surely she could use that to…
To what?
Take down a superpowerful, much more experienced Pyrokinetic with a history of murdering poeple?
But…did she really want to wimp out?
Sophie wouldn't.
And yeah, Sophie had, like, a permanent bed in the Healing Center. But Marella was pretty sure their whole group would vote "DO IT!"
There were also a dozen other armed goblins who would rush down as backup.
And Linh could attack Fintan with her cutesy snow animals.
It'd almost be worth it to watch Fintan get swallowed up by an ice wave shaped like Princess Purryfins.
"I can handle myself," she decided, using a tone that hopefully sounded intimidating.
Fintan's gleeful laughter echoed off the ice.
The scary guard muttered something about the arrogance of elves as he reached toward the top of Fintan's frozen cell and felt around for a specific spot. A faint clicking sound followed, and a tiny round door slid open—far out of Fintan's reach.
"I can neutralize you within seconds," the guard reminded him as he held the cache up to the opening. "By numerous means. Some far more painful than others."
"Yes, I'm well aware of the absurd lengths the Council has taken to keep me contained," Fintan assured him. "But I don't plan on giving you a reason to use any of them. Not today, at least."
The guard bared his supersharp pointy teeth, and Marella wanted to shout NEVER MIND, JUST KIDDING! But she let the guard shove the cache through the tiny opening—and then it was too late to change her mind.
All she could do was watch the glass orb make its slow descent, rolling around and around and around—down some sort of invisible path etched into the wall of the cell.
Her stomach backflipped with each rotation, and she felt more than a little vomit-y when the cache dropped low enough for Fintan to catch it. But he simply held it up and studied it.
Then he coughed on it.
And sneezed on it.
"Ewwwwwww," Marella groaned when he followed that up by drooling on it. "You know, there are better ways to give it your DNA."
"Yes, I'm aware." Fintan cleared his throat and launched a slimy blob of spit at the cache. "I also know your little Technopath friend is going to ask you how I accessed the memories, so feel free to give him a detailed list." He wiped the cache dry with his fingers and then ran it through his greasy hair before sneezing and coughing on it again. "Some of these methods are vital. Some are distractions. None can be re-created without me—but it'll be fun if he tries, don't you think?"
He laughed so hard, it brought tears to his eyes, and he smeared them across the cache before sneezing and spitting on it again—making Marella very glad she had gloves to keep her hands clean once he returned the cache.
Assuming she actually got it back…
She tried to make out what he was saying when he started mumbling a bunch of stuff into the crystal, but the words were all mushed together. He also tapped the cache in so many different places that she doubted even Sophie and Keefe with their fancy photographic memories would be able to re-create the patterns. And he looked so smug as he did it all that Marella decided to look as bored as possible—which was why she was barely paying attention when the cache flared to life, projecting a small hologram of Fintan standing alone in a wide, empty field.
"Huh," Marella mumbled. "Gotta admit, I was expecting something a little more exciting than a tiny glowing Fintan in the middle of nowhere doing…nothing."
"Then you should learn to be more observant." Fintan pointed to the swaying grass around the hologram's feet, and after a few seconds, Marella realized there was a vine of blooming Noxflares. "I figured I'd show you what Noxflares can do, since you're so generously bringing one back into my life."
Marella squinted at the tiny flowers, waiting for something to happen.
And waiting.
And waiting.
"So…they…blow in the wind?" she asked.
Fintan sighed. "No, they do this."
The hologram of Fintan waved his arms, and all the Noxflares erupted with searing white flames.
"Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah, still not seeing why this needed to be a super-hush-hush Forgotten Secret," Marella grumbled as the Fintan hologram flicked his wrist and added purple fire to the white.
Sure, the flames were pretty—but all flames were beautiful.
"Try thinking like a Pyrokinetic!" Fintan snapped. "Tell me, are there any other flowers that could remain intact under such an inferno?"
Marella couldn't think of any.
And the Noxflares still didn't burn when the Fintan hologram added yellow flames to the fiery mix.
but other than clearly being fire-resistant, Marella didn't see the Noxflares actually doing anything—and the hologram of Fintan must've been equally unimpressed.
He frowned at the flaming petals and dragged a hand down his face, mumbling "something's missing."
"Still not seeing the point of this," Marella noted. "I mean…"
Her voice trailed off as the tiny Fintan waved his arms again and blasted the Noxflares with pink flames—which made the flowers spray sparks in every direction.
The effect was breathtaking.
Kind of like the sky during the Celestial Festival.
But that still didn't necessarily scream, THIS MEMORY IS IMPORTANT.
"How come the grass isn't catching fire?" she asked, grasping for anything that might be significant. "Do the Noxflares protect it or something?"
"No, I was protecting it. A pyrokinetic should always be in control of their flames."
He sounded so smug Marella was tempted to remind him that he let five Pyrokinetics die when he tried to teach them how to call down Everblaze and they all lost control—but that would probably make him throw one of his tantrums and send her away.
She needed the cache back first—and to hopefully find something useful in this boring memory. But sadly, all Fintan's hologram did was stare blankly at the stars and mumble "something's missing" again before the image flashed away.
"That's it?" the scary guard demanded, beating Marella to the complaint.
"Yeah, so…you put on a little fire show all by yourself with some spark-shooting flowers," she added, trying to sum up what she'd seen. "You were clearly disappointed by that little show. And then you must've remembered you needed to…"
She waved her hands, cuing Fintan to fill in the blank with whatever was "missing."
But he just stood there, staring at the cache with the same glazed look he always got whenever he started rambling about the beauty of fire—and Marella wished Linh had come with her after all.
Linh could pelt him with snowballs or something to snap him out of it.
But then she realized…
"You never figured out what was missing—did you?"
Fintan blinked and met her gaze. "Noxflares are full of possibility. But they need to burn."
"That doesn't answer my question," Marella noted.
Fintan shrugged. "Context was not part of our bargain."
"yeah, because I figured when I saw the memory, it would be obvious why it's this big Forgotten Secret. How does you setting some flowers on fire and then realizing you did it wrong matter to anyone?"
"I did nothing wrong," Fintan assured her, with a particularly haughty smile—but Marella wasn't buying it.
There was a tightness around his eyes that was way too familiar.
Her dad had that same tightness every time her mom was having one of her "bad days," and she knew exactly what it meant.
Disappointment.
Frustration.
A hint of helplessness.
So she marched over to the guard and grabbed the frozen Noxflare from the floor—too irritated to even notice how heavy the ice must've been as she hauled it back.
She plopped it in front of Fintan's cell. "Ta-da! One ugly flower, as promised—and I'm sure you're not surprised that I had to freeze it before I brought it down here."
"I'm not." Fintan dropped to his knees and gazed at the Noxflare like he was seeing a long-lost friend.
He pressed his hand against his cell, trying to get as close as he could. "Such power. Such…promise."
"Uh-huh," Marella agreed, letting his stare and stare, hoping it would help him let his guard down.
When his eyes turned a little teary, she went in for the kill.
"But there is something still missing, isn't there? That's why you saved this memory—to remind yourself to keep looking."
A whole lot of painful silence passed before Fintan slowly nodded.
Marella wanted to feel triumphant.
But all she'd done was prove the entire trade had been pointless.
There was no game-changing clue.
No dirty little secret about the past.
Certainly nothing to help them stop their enemies.
And she had a pretty strong hunch the other eight memories in the cache would be just as ridiculous.
"The answer is out there," Fintan murmured. "I can feel it. I just can't grasp it. Perhaps…"
"Perhaps?" Marella prompted when his eyes locked with hers.
Fintan stepped closer to the ice, keeping his voice low, like he didn't want the guard to hear him. "Perhaps a different Pyrokinetic is meant to find the truth. One who's already convinced the Council to trust her."
Marella laughed. "The Council doesn't trust me."
"The fact that you're here for a pyrokinesis lesson says otherwise—particularly since the lesson is with me." He started circling his cell again, mumbling under his breath and nodding. The only words Marella caught were "possible," "improvising," and "best option."
After three more times around the cell, he stopped in front of Marella again, leaning even closer to the icy wall as he whispered, "I believe it's time for me to offer a trade of my own."
"A trade," Marella repeated, not missing the way the scary guard gripped his sword.
Fintan glared at him. "This conversation is between me and my prodigy. She stands here of her own free will, shielded by who knows how many different kinds of protections—and she can leave anytime she pleases. Your presence is no longer needed."
"You still have her gadget," the guard argued.
"I suppose I do. but that can be easily remedied." Fintan set the cache on whatever invisible ledge it had slid down in the first place and gave it a good shove, sending it spinning up the path toward the top of the cell.
The guard had to scramble to catch it when it launched out of the ice bubble.
"See?" Fintan said, shifting his gaze back to Marella. "I can be trusted."
"Pretty sure the only thing I can trust is that you'll do what's best for you," Marella countered.
"As long as you get what you want, why would you care? After all, no matter what, I'm still stuck in here, aren't I?" He waved his arms around his little ice bubble, which suddenly looked way less secure than it had during her other visits. "Oh, relax—all I'm asking for is a little information."
Marella crossed her arms. "Right—and information has never gotten anyone hurt or killed."
"It's not that kind of secret. It's…" He frowned. "Honestly, I don't know what it is—and for someone my age, with my connections, that says something, doesn't it? I doubt any of the Vackers even know the full truth."
"Then how am I supposed to find it?" Marella demanded.
"As I said, you've proven to be quite resourceful. Particularly when you team up with your little friends." He scowled at the guard again before motioning her to step closer—until her ear was practically pressed up against the ice.
A voice in the back of her head kept screaming, WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO HIM?
But…she was curious.
And there was nothing wrong with hearing his offer, was there?
Fintan's breath fogged the ice, obscuring his face as he whispered, "All I ask is that if you ever find out what's missing from the Noxflares, you share it with me."
"Why?" Marella glanced at the frozen flower, wishing she could see something more than just ugly shriveled petals.
"Because I want to know," Fintan said simply. "And because I can give you what you want in return."
"The rest of the memories in your cache," Marella clarified.
Fintan nodded. Then his lips curled into a smile. "And one other—something you've long wondered about, even though you probably don't admit it to yourself."
Marella raised one eyebrow, refusing to show any more interest than that.
Fintan cupped his hands around his mouth and pressed them to the ice before he whispered, "I know what happened to your mother."
Marella sucked in a breath.
"Yes," Fintan added. "I'm talking about her 'accident'—if we can really call it that. I know why she fell. And why her injuries were so incurable."
Marella stumbled back, collapsing into the nearest throne and hugging herself to stop her body from shaking with tremors that had nothing to do with the cold.
A tiny, terrified part of her had always thought the story she'd been told about her mom's fall hadn't totally made sense.
But everyone—everyone—was convinced it had been an accident.
Even her father.
And if it wasn't…
She leaned toward Fintan. "I don't need your games."
"Oh, this definitely isn't a game. But it's the only way you'll ever know the truth, and before you start overthinking everything, consider this: You have all the power here. Make the trade, don't make the trade—it's totally your call. You also don't have to make a decision right away. I'm trapped in this prison. I'll never find the answer on my own—and I'll never know if you find the answer unless you decide to tell me. So there's zero pressure. No one even knows we've had this conversation—and don't worry about the guard. See how frustrated he looks? That's because I made sure he only heard what I wanted him to hear. The rest is our little secret."
Our little secret.
Fintan was probably the last person she should have a secret with.
And yet…he had a point.
No one knew he'd made her this offer—and it wasn't like she'd come to any decision.
She didn't even have the information Fintan wanted anyway!
And with the way their investigations always seemed to go, she'd probably only find a whole lot more questions.
So there was really no point in telling anyone about this.
She could tell them whens he needed to.
If she needed to.
That wouldn't be wrong…would it?
It didn't feel wrong—or it wouldn't have if Fintan's smile wasn't so creepy.
"I'm not agreeing to anything," she said, wanting to make that very clear.
"You're not," Fintan assured her. "So how about we put this out of our minds and get started with our lesson? I'm sure your Hydrokinetic friend is wondering why you haven't come up to practice yet."
Linh was probably starting to worry.
She'd probably also built enough snow animals to make a frozen Sanctuary.
"Fine," Marella said, standing up and dusting ice off her cape. "What do you want me to work on today?"
"How about I teach you how to make those colored flames you saw in the memory," Fintan suggested. "You know, in case that ever comes in handy."
He winked, and the guard groaned and held out the cache to Marella. "Sounds like I'm no longer needed."
"You aren't," Fintan agreed.
The guard growled—looking scarier than ever—and turned to march away. But he spun back after a few steps. "He's right that I don't know what he offered you. But I can tell you're tempted. And I hope you're smart enough to reject it. Never make a deal with someone who has nothing to lose."
"I'm not," Marella promised.
And she wasn't.
She hadn't made any decisions—except to keep this to herself. But that didn't mean anything.
She was just trying to avoid a ton of drama and arguing and having people give her advice she didn't need.
Plus, everyone has secrets.
Shoot—the great Sophie Foster had more secrets than anyone.
So it was fine.
Everything was fine.
Nothing had changed.
Time to focus on controlling her fire.
And yet, for the rest of the lesson, the tiny spark in her heart burned hotter and hotter and hotter. Whispering a new plea.
Trust me.
Trust me.
Trust me.
Note: Thank you to @bookwyrminspiration for doing the bulk of this transcription!
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lowkey normal Ichika headcanon:
I might add these on my fix, tee-hee~
Unlike her brother, Yami Sukehiro, Ichika is absolutely terrible in art/drawing. It's something they could laugh about once they've reconciled. 🥺🤧
Yami making fun of Ichika for donning a frightening mask despite being a shrimp. Probably something along the lines of "hey, what's the mask for?" 😭🤣
Being both strong independent women but still sweet enough on the inside, Ichika and Charlotte might really be close enough to consider each other as sisters. Ichika might help Yami realize his feelings or give him ideas for their (YamiChar) upcoming tea date.
One thing for sure, Yosuga teases her a damn lot and now she's immune to it as she couldn't go against someone of superior status. Plus, she has heard enough of Yosuga's nonstop blabbering about the flame woman of his dreams 😭🤣
cray cray headcanons
Remember these pet beasts? They wouldn't go near Ichika and when she tries to feed them, they'll hide deeper in their cages 😭😭😭 But seriously though, what happened to them? Can't remember where they are rn. LMAOOO
When BB and Yami had enough of her incessant frowning + temper, they threatened to not return Ichika back to her country under the guise of 'not having enough mana' or something. She has to play nice now with Finral, Yami, and co, otherwise it's babye LOS. 😭🤣
Komari tried countless of times before to give Ichika's wardrobes a makeovers. Lots of which was denied by Ichika stating that her current hakama speak of great status blah blah. One day, Ichika found her hakama being customized to fit her size snuggly that she freaked out and demanded her wide puffy sleeves robe back. Komari never tried again.
Still feeling awkward, she only calls her brother "Sukehiro", "You", or "Yami" (as the Cloverians used to regard him.) But then she got into some trouble during her stay on CK and needs someone, a resident of CK, to back her up. Yami rushed to the place and Ichika looked guilty.
"a-ano... onii-chan?" She squeaked in a low-pitched voice.
"HuUUuuUuhH??"
On that day, Yami learned Ichika only calls him brother when she's in trouble 😭
This one's my favorite. Ichika actually has high alcohol tolerance but rarely drinks as her tummy gets bloated and the taste doesn't really suit her. Yami was shocked to see her drink booze with them on a party that whenever he drinks and Ichika's there, he prepares a damn lot. Take, for instance, this made up scene:
Ichika saw her brother silent sitting on the floor while admiring the moonless night. Beside him is a bottle used to hold liquors. She bet it has something to do with him meeting Charlotte's parents.
"...you good there?" She asked cautiously as if trying not to poach a sensitive topic.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Mind if I have some?"
"ehhhhh, that's alcohol!" Ichika raised a brow. "Tsk, help yourself." Yami relented and offered her the bottle.
Ichika grinned a little and took a sip to which she spit seconds later.
"Sukehiro, this IS JUICE!? WTFFFF"
Yami boisterous laughter echoed everywhere.
"Did you see me complaining? Huh, did you??" He grabbed her skull and took on an interrogating tone. "Who taught you to drink, you brat?! Too young!" Ain't no way he's gonna be a bad influence to her!
I still have a lot more but I forgot 😭😭 Lunch calls me 🤧🤧 I'm gonna need this in the near future just in case I forgot.
~Off you go, my delusional mind!~
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liminal spaces, paradoxes, and conundrums of growing up
it came without warning, like a red flare in stygian darkness, and i’m supposed to hit the ground running or i’d waste away in the very shore that tenderly held the hopes i carried around in a bindle. i must have not seen it coming because there are wounds from my youth i'm still trying to close, things i'm still trying to come to terms with. but it doesn't matter now because it's here and i've dragged my heels long enough.
growing up is a series of last times, little deaths, fumbling for familiar feelings, and listening to the same songs over and over again refusing to admit it's a prayer just to feel at ease with your skin again. despite the years that have graced this body i am still a child, leave me to my own devices and i would just constantly breathe through things that are bruising me and live with the exhaustion. how do i gracefully let go?
i'm thinking of the time my mother picked me up from school and neither of us knew it was the last time. i wonder if she had the same thoughts when she was my age. there was a day i wore that particular jumper for the last time, put away my toys for the last time, said goodbye to a friend for the last time. i wonder if i would've done anything differently if i knew. but there's something anachronistic about childhood that there are moments you feel 10 again before you blink and you're back to being 22.
the things i swore i wouldn't get over from, like the boy from high school who doesn't know he made me a poet or when my sister had to leave to get away from our vampire of a father. it's not that we do not mean forever, it's we say forever but it is as long as nothing changes, but god everything changes and we have no control over it so we learn to whittle down a particular forever into something we can lower to the ground because the sky shouldn't fall and we have school tomorrow.
i didn't want to leave the cliff that looks out to the sea in Bali because i couldn't believe there are places where breathing doesn't hurt. i'm drawn to places vast and infinite, the ones that show me how small i am in comparison, that this life is over before some god falls out of love. the labyrinth beneath my skin shifts when the perspective changes. did i tell you Billy Joel's Vienna and Taylor Swift's You're On Your Own, Kid feel like comforting words from a stranger in a train station you'll meet once in your life?
at 18, i met a boy. i told him of the anger i inherited from the man who sucked the life out of my mother. how it turns me into someone like him, how helpless you'll become when you are the beast and the cage together in one flesh. he didn’t pretend he could save me, he knows what i'm made of and he’ll be there when i blow this prison up. i wonder why i rarely say “i love you” to people i actually love. i think i’m doing a bad job at showing them too. it must have been the bite.
the truth is i didn't have the nerve to leave the scene of the crime, it just collapsed in on itself that summer around midnight. but not before it cut to the bone, not before i could take back the curious little girl who took in stories like a lungful of country air. i'm sure she would've made me kinder. the basilisk in every mirror i look at wouldn't exist. but her skeleton lies in my old closet, buried under a heap of blankets that will never warm her again. forgive me for turning my chest into a graveyard, the first funeral i attended was mine.
i blinked and that was six years ago. i'll be out of school soon, and my life after that is a delicate subject i try to avoid in conversations. this is the longest stay i had in a liminal space and i think it's haunted. the waters are murky, something moves in the shadows, and the rules have changed. i spent my first year in college living on autopilot and the rest in front of a screen because the world has dirt in its lungs, a year later i emerged to a place i can barely recognize. i guess some things you wanted so much when you were 12 don't seem half so wonderful when you get them a decade later.
but maybe our early 20’s isn’t about seeking answers to million-dollar questions or losing our minds over the complexities of our existence. maybe it's simply about making sure i'm getting enough sun and recognizing pomegranate seeds from the underworld when i see one. maybe it's okay to eat pasta straight from the pan when i'm too sad to even swallow and watch Dead Poets Society again and pretend it's the first time. the thing about this kind of melancholia is you cannot let anybody in. it's just you despite the warm words from the people on the porch. maybe you just need to repeatedly cross some lines until it stops being the feeling you dance around to and vomit into poems.
sooner or later it will make sense why i had to leave to stay or break to become whole or die to live. but if it doesn't then that's okay too. i'm not burying anything this time. i'm here and i'm scared but that also means i'm alive— a mosaic of moments, memories, feelings, and dreams. for the meantime i'll sift my fingers through that new book, get that coffee, take a walk at twilight, and when i find a lonely lighted window i'll softly slip into its warmth.
#growing up#poeticstories#prose poetry#poetry#childhood#writerscreed#writeblrcafe#smittenbypoetry#bitsofstarglow#spilled ink#musings#original writing#excerpt from a book i'll never write
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TENTH DOCTOR/READER 🗣️🗣️
(In which the Reader and Doctor are separated and he is captured. The reader, actually a shapeshifter, saves the Doctor from a werewolf, reader is critically injured in the process and the two barely make it out alive. Back in the TARDIS, he helps bandage her wounds and waits for her to wake up. Fluff ensues 🤞🤞, first time doing this)
Tags; angst, near death experience, gore, fluff, friends to lovers
‘How the hell did this happen?’ The Doctor thought to himself, ‘One minute I’m with y/n, exploring 1604 London, the next we’re separated and I’m in the woods, chained to blessed tree.’
The Do for huffs, tugging on his restraints once more, the chains were digging harshly into his skin. He glanced around, no one was here. Other than the cage before him, which would rattle on occasion and the beast inside would growl. He knew what it was, he had heard the growl many times before.
He was going to be fed to a werewolf, apparently.
‘Wonder if y/N’s alright, I hope so.’ Even in danger he still thought of his recent companion, Y/N L/N. A girl whom he met a few months ago. He had learned very quickly she wasn’t human, by the way her eyes were an unnatural golden to the sharp fangs that appear occasionally. Course the golden eyes were a dead give away, they stood out the most. And he’d admit it, they were..enchanting. Such a pretty color, they were.
When he found out what she was, he was intrigued greatly, asking many questions? To which she’d answer honestly.
“What does that form look like?” “Brown fur, I’m taller than the average human. Though, I’d be just a few inches above you.” “Is your whole family like this?” “Only my mothers side, and even then it’s a rare gene.” “Have you ever fought in that form?” “No.” “Why not?” “..because I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Y/N was a remarkable woman, she had both the brains and brawn. Apparently, before he came along, she was the best tracker in her family, and the fastest.
She showed him her culture, taught him her language, taught him dances and sang her people’s songs. Everything about her was so interesting and the Doctor loved learning about everything she had to offer. She loved her, regrettably. She was such a genius, it was hard not to love her.
He looked at the ground, silently hoping she was okay.
He perked up when he heard footsteps, watching with honey colored eyes as three humans adorned in black cloaks appeared from the shadows. They circled around towards him, the tallest looking down at him.
“You should feel lucky.” He said, voice low and gruff, “You will be the first sacrifice to our king.”
The second tallest hummed, “With your blood, he will grow stronger.”
“And even stronger with the next sacrifice.” The smallest added.
“I’m sure he will grow to be a strong king, though I do hope not as bad as the king right now. I mean..Jane isn’t exactly popular is he? With that laziness—“
“SILENCE.” The tallest shouted and The Doctor allowed himself to smile goofily. He liked annoying his captors. “Behind us, in that cage, is our king. As soon as we release him, he will feast upon you.”
“I’m not sure I’d taste too good, I’m quite lanky, don’t have a lot of meat on me.” The Doctor bit his lip, sensing the tallest’s annoyance. “I mean..shouldn’t you go after someone else? Someone with more meat on their bones?”
“Can we just let the king out already?” The smallest whined, impatiently.
“Enough of this. Marcus, I’m letting him out!” The second tallest quipped as she turned and walked towards the cage. Marcus, the tallest, accompanied her.
The Doctor watched as the smallest walked off into the shadows, giggling like a madman. He looked around as he heard someone call out; “”. He smiled, she was here.
The call echoed through the forest and the werewolf in the cage growled loudly, the two tall humans letting it free. Just as they did, it leapt from the cage and but down onto the woman’s shoulder, tearing her arm off and allowing her to fall, screaming in pain. Marcus went to rush after her, but his so called kings fangs engulf his throat and ripped it out.
The Doctor watched as the werewolf snarled at him, saliva dripping from its lower lip. Blood stained it’s snout and it stalked towards him, beady red eyes staring him down. It was a beautiful white werewolf, long fur, curly too.
As sudden as a thunderbolt, a large brown wolf revealed itself and tackled the white one.
Y/N pinned the white one to the ground, grabbing its cheek and shaking it around, blood spilling from the new wound. The werewolf kicked her off and she fell back, quickly standing. Her tail whipped around behind her as the two circled one another, both letting out loud growls and snarls.
The white charged towards her and charged as well, the two hitting one another in a way that forced them onto their hind legs. They bit at one another, Y/N latching onto its throat and sinking her sharp teeth into the fur and flesh beneath. Blood pooled into her mouth and she heard it scream in pain.
She reared back and but it’s ear, ripping it clean off. With the werewolf distracted by the pain, she pinned it one more and sank her teeth into its neck once more, pulling harshly. The beast beneath her kicked and pushed, attempting to get away. She growled, tears of anger and rage filling her eyes. She would kill this beast! She would! So it wouldn’t hurt The Doctor! Not anyone!
She heard a soft voice call her name and she froze, before she snarled and threw the werewolf down a small hill. She could hear it’s heavy breathing and small whines of pain.
Scoffing, she made her way to her friend, watching him smile lazily at her made her roll her eyes. She carefully grabbed the chains between her teeth and crushed them with her jaws. The Doctor stared at her, amazed.
“That-you are so remarkable! How did you do that? How powerful are your jaws—!”
Y/N wailed in pain as a searing pain entered her shoulder and she turned to the left, attempting to bite at whatever was attacking her. A glance of white and she knew.
She should’ve killed it!
She growled, feeling her blood course through her brown fur. Rushing forward, she leapt into the air and brought herself down upon her back. She heard the werewolf roar in pain and she stood, going to attack once more until it latched onto her throat. She growled, placing her paw upon its stomach and taking her claws against it, effectively ripping its stomach up and open.
This didn’t stop it though, and she began to jump around, trying to get it off. It was no use. At least it would die with her.
Suddenly, something was being shot at her and she screamed, feeling the werewolf let go and scream as well. That noise—!
She looked at the Doctor, of course, he was using the screwdriver! He saved her! As the sound stopped, She rushed forward and used her head to throw him onto her back, running off into the forest.
She felt fingers entangle her fur and she growled lowly, leaping over a fallen tree.
“It’s chasing us! I’ve got it!” That sound again, though it wasn’t directed at her it made her ears ring. She growled louder, shaking her head around. “Oh-! That hurts you too, sorry, love!”
The ringing stopped and she jumped out of the woods, into a dirt road, where a man and his horse came to an abrupt stop. Y/N was quick to continue running, The Doctor tightening his grip.
“You’re bleeding! We won’t get far-“
‘SHUT IT.’ Y/N growled, the Doctor smiling.
“There you are! He’s not following us anymore- I think you killed him. Which, by the way, that fight was incredible! You are incredible!” The Doctor rambled on, possibly in order to keep her from passing out. “So..where are we going?”
‘TARDIS. I can smell it.’
“Oh! What does it smell like?”
‘…’
Y/N didn’t answer and instead made a sharp left, running through a field of grass. The sun was beginning to rise and she felt herself getting lightheaded. No, she wouldn’t pass out, that would hurt the Doctor. She needed to get him somewhere safe.
“Y/N, you need to stop for a second. You’ll pass out if you don’t-“
‘Need to get you..somewhere….safe.’ Her breathing was accompanied by high pitch whines and the Doctor felt himself grow uneasy.
“I appreciate it, but you are the wounded one-“
‘QUIET.’ Y/N growled lowly and the Doctor furrowed his brows, annoyed.
“Rude.” He mumbled.
A few more minutes of running and Y/N came to a stop, panting slightly and snarling, ears twitching this way and that, listening. She sniffed the air. She walked forward, stopping a few inches before a clearing.
She lowered herself and the Doctor carefully got off of her, being mindful of her injuries. The TARDIS appeared before them and he unlocked the door, opening it and letting the giant wolf inside first. He went in last and closed the door.
As soon as she went in, she began to walk slowly and whined as she shifted back into a human, naked.
“Y/N, here, let me..” The Doctor was quick to remove his coat and cover the bleeding woman. He gently picked her up, carrying her into a room.
There he unfolded his coat and looked at her body, beautiful, magnificent, perfect. Plump and soft, absolutely beautiful. He began to work, grabbing medical supplies from another room and cleaning her wounds; her throat wasn’t as bad as her shoulder. It would definitely leave a horrible scar.
After he finished bandaging her, he put away everything and laid her back down, pulling the covers over her. She sat down beside the bed, gently grasping her hand in his and sighing.
She would be okay, she’s breathing fine and her heartbeat is normal. Still..she could’ve died saving him. Even if she didn’t, it still hurt to know if he hadn’t have located his screwdriver, she would’ve been dead.
An hour or so later, Y/N woke up. She groaned and in an instant, the Doctor was on his feet and helping her sit up.
“You’re okay, just need to rest. Here, I thought you would be hungry.” He hands her a sandwich and she eats it quickly, chasing it down with some water he handed her. “You doing okay?”
“‘M fine, Doctor, are you?” She asked, looking up at him with those beautiful golden eyes. He smiled.
“Always.” A beat of silence, “Thank you, Y/N, for saving me.”
The girl gave him a smile, “Anytime, Doctor.”
I MIGHT CONTINUE INTO A PART TWO BUT IDK
#10th doctor x reader#tenth doctor/reader#doctor who#x reader#fanfic#oneshot#fluff and romance#light angst#cw: gore#lana del slay
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Happy beginning to the new year
Can I ask you something ? Do you know Disney’s the great mouse detective ?
If yes, can you please do headcanon of cg! Ratigan & little! Basil
Or
A fanfic where Basil regresses while being captured by Ratigan, that would be fun OR Basil regresses because of a nightmare and Ratigan tries to calm him down ✨💞
BTW. How are you doing so far ?
Hello! So sorry this took me forever to get to , I’ve been meaning to get to this for awhile, however I needed to rewatch the movie to truely do this Justice. Thank you for giving me an excuse to watch this charming movie. Also any constructive criticism is welcome, I’d love to learn how to improve! :)
Contents of this fic include
the characters Regressor!Basil and Cargiver!Professor Ratigan
Warnings:nightmares,small mention of cigarettes,basil being held captive, as well as mentions of basil being eaten by a cat (doesn’t actually happen though)
Basil had gone and done it….he had been captured by Ratigan, now he’s being kept in some sort of cage and all of his senses being assaulted by cigarette smoke. He was petrified,however he didn’t want to show his weakness to fiend keeping him , but the smoke stinging his eyes made it impossible to cope. He decided to sleep a bit to get his energy up for his escape.
His eyes got heavy as he began to drift off. Soon enough he was in dreamland, he was working a case but it seemed different to him somehow. It soon became evident as to why, because he turned around and there was a large cat behind him. Basil had tried to run but his efforts became fruitless as the evil cat picked him up. And before he could scream, the cat had dropped him into it’s mouth.
He awoke with a gasp, feeling as if his head had been filled with cotton, he was unable to cope with his surroundings he sobbed.
“What are you whining about , you rodent?” Professor Ratigan sneered. Basil just continued to wail , unable to find his words. Babbling trying to respond. Ratigan was endlessly confused as to why his nemesis was behaving this way,acting as if he were a child. Feeling a bit of pity for the mouse ,mostly wanting him to cease his whining, decided to comfort him as if he were a child.
“Come on, lad, what’s got you so worked up?” Ratigan questioned in a kinder tone. “Nightmare…” Basil had stuttered out in a quiet childish tone. ‘Now this is certainly something’ Ratigan thought. being a man of self proclaimed intelligence he decided to attempt and learn more about what was happening with the rodent in front of him.
“Come on now, boy-“ Ratigan started “how about we calm down a bit.” Picking Basil up taking him up to sit on his throne. Rocking the mouse a bit “now, what troubles you?” He asked. Only being able to make out the words “kitty” and “bad” from Basil’s revived hysterics. “You don’t mean ,Felicia, do you?” The professor asked. Already getting his answer by Basils whimpers.
“Why she’s nothing to fear. Here let’s go see her. I promise she will not harm you ,boy.” Ratigan said carrying the mouse taking him to go see the cat. Basil was shaking but for some reason he put a childish trust in Ratigan. Soon enough he heart a bell ring and felt a large cat scamper up towards them. “Now ,Felicia, do not harm the boy daddy would like you to play nice.” Ratigan said to his beloved beast of a cat. “Go on ,boy , pet her.” He said. Grasping Basils hand in his own to reach towards the cat and touching the soft fur.
“ soft.” Basil stated ,giggling a bit, he touched the beasts nose letting lose a lot more giggles after. Maybe ratigan would keep the mouse around just for a bit longer.. he quite liked caring for him,not that he’d admit it though.
#sfw agere#agere community#safe agere#sfw age regression#agere fandom#fandom agere#age regression#agere#the great mouse detective agere#agere fic#agere fanfic#agere writing
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The second part of DoTD has been scrapped - I was going to keep it a surprise, but I've learned that I can't really write for it anymore.
I went back and edited the original first draft to give the characters proper names. Most of them, at least. This segment is just being released because I don't want it to go to waste - I don't plan on continuing it.
⫘࣪͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘ּ࣪⫘࣪͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘
Time was near irrelevant in their confinement. Rows of cells held the monsters of Amber Island within thick glass, the chilling temperature assuring whoever had captured them that they could not escape. They were weak, riddled with fear of the unknown. Only one monster, an Incisaur named Krystall, seemed even the slightest bit alive. She kicked at the cell door, biting and scratching at the glass. It was no use.
"Flare?" Xe called out. "Are you awake?"
The kayna heard her name, but she couldn't respond. It was too cold. Flare faded in and out of consciousness, waving her hand in response. So cold.
"She's awake," the Barrb spoke. He was known as Cereus. A good friend of Puddles, the Whaddle and Spots, the PongPing. His cell stood across from Flares, giving him a perfect view of her condition. It wasn't horrible, but she wasn't holding on well. "I don't know for how much longer, though."
"She's a single element fire monster," Marla worried. "Her elemental compound is vulnerable."
"Aren't you straight-up a candle?"
"I'm a Candelavra, thank you."
"Can everyone shut up?" Nixie hissed, plucking another feather from her wings. "I'm trying to get us out of this shit-hole! I can't focus!"
"How?" Cereus spoke up agsin. "By taking away your ability to fly or by making everyone want to die?"
"If anyone dies, I hope it's you!"
The quarrel was cut short. The lights lining the ceiling flickered on, a door at the front of the room opening itself to the contained monsters and letting in two new beings. They donned white coats and rubber boots, stepping into the long hall and making themselves visible. They carried clipboards, multiple pens stuck into their many pockets.
"Kayna 015?" One spoke.
"Alive," the other answered.
"Glowl 021?"
"Alive."
They went down a list, naming a species and a number next to it. The monsters retreated back into their blocks, avoiding the newcomers as much as they could. Humans hadn't been a threat to monsters before, but they had gained the title and wore it like a crown.
"..and Tiawa 003?"
"Alive. These are the hardest to get. Try not to freeze it this time."
"Don't tell me how to do my job, Jamie. Get the Incisaur to a different room, why don't you? We'll be looking into this one first."
Annoyed, the person now known as Jamie left to gather proper supplies to ensure no harm towards themself once the reptilian monster was out. The other stood behind, watching the beasts cower in the corner of their cells.
"Pity," They spoke. "We've already gotten the information we actually needed. Now, there are just tests."
What did that mean? What was awaiting these monsters on the other side? Krystall circled her cage, ramming xer head into the glass wall in rebellion. The human inched over, kicking at the cell and hushing her fight. It wasn't long until Jamie returned, donning a new suit and gloves.
Krys was gone. That's all anyone knew.
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have you already read the s classes that I raised? it has a platonic yandere (yoohyun)
I have seen it update every now and then, but I never read it (normally I don't read those kinds of webcomics) until now. It's actually very good and seems to focus a lot on found family as well as video game logic, and the pacing and characters are all very good. It's been a while since I've read one with a platonic yandere, and while for the most part his yandere moments seem comedic, he does have genuine moments with his brother.
The story starts out introducing the concept of dungeons and class ranks, with doors opening up in the world making monsters jump in, and at the same time, people start to awaken into different tiers, gaining different powers at different ranks. Han Yoojin at the time was working to help support his younger brother when the dungeons open up, revealing that his brother, Han Yoohyun is a S rank while Yoojin is a F rank (the lowest rank). Things go from bad to worse with Yoohyun suddenly pushes his brother away, seemingly abandoning him after he became S Rank. To try to figure out why his brother abandoned him, Yoojin goes to join the guild, however, it seems that no matter what he does, everyone around him dies. His ability is a support ability allowing him to influence others around him as well as a special ability that allows him to gain double of the person he's influenced, but only after they die. In the dungeon, his team suddenly encounters a S Rank Dragon that slaughters his entire team. Before he is about to be killed by the dragon, Yoohyun jumps and and protects his brother, dying in the process. As a result, Yoojin gains his power and kills the dragon, gaining a ton of different skills, including a crystal that grants him a wish. Because he can't revive his brother, he uses it instead to go back in time to the moment when his brother leaves. This time, he's able to prevent his brother from leaving, and we learn that Yoohyun left because he wanted to protect his brother, as many people would often go after S Ranks because of their fame and power- even trying to prevent Yoojin from even going into dungeons. However, this time, Yoojin is able to convince Yoohyun to help him build his guild. At this point, Yoohyun becomes incredibly protective, to the point of even trying to cage up the apartment. Yoojin promises to be careful and find S Classes for him, but only after Yoohyun assigns him a bodyguard. From there he finds and recruits Bak Yerim, a middle schooler who is being taken advantage of by her uncle until Yoojin saves and influences her into being an S class. Yerim is extremely grateful to be out of this situation and promises to do her best for Yoojin and the guild. Yoojin also hires another F rank, Yoo Myeongwoo, a person that eventually ends up being a blacksmith. Yoojin also gains Peace, a high rank beast that he's able to tame thanks to his talent and eventually becomes well known in the Guild as the beast tamer, something that is exceedingly rare. At some point, him and Peace are kidnapped, which lead to the guild looking for him. Yoojin is able to tame a beast while there which he gains his powers for (unfortunately, the beast dies) and reunites with Peace before being saved by the guild. Yoohyun gains suspicion over Yoojin because of one of his powers (I believe it was his poison resist) that prevented him from being poisoned by the gang members. Soon after, Myeongwoo is able to awaken as a S rank. Yoojin gets interactions from the system itself (the beings that give humans the rankings) and finds out that his Caretaker ability is exceedingly rare, and only occurs if a natural S rank is considers them a caretaker (aka Yoohyun). Because Yoojin keeps sneaking out to dungeons and seems to be hiding something from him, Yoohyun becomes excessively paranoid and especially so when the System pulls him out of the dungeon to talk to him. When he comes back, Yoohyun is so worried that he's essentially destroyed the entire dungeon and decides to cut off Yoojin's arm to essentially trap him in the house and keep an eye on him, so that no one can hurt him. He seems pretty hellbent on doing this at least until Yoohyun reveals what happened in the previous world, with his powers, his connection to the system and the goal of raising 100 S Classes. He's able to calm down afterwards and the last couple of chapters are related to Yoojin gaining more beasts for him to raise.
I skipped over a lot of parts, like Myeongwoo's arc, other characters like the Researcher lady, other S Classes in the guild and the Dokkaebi ( created by the dungeon from a Dokkaebi mask) as well as the two different suspicious natural ranked S members, because while they are important to the story, in terms of framing the yandere, it's not quite as important.
That being said, I really enjoyed this story so far. I think it has a good balance of serious and funny moments. Like I said, all of the characters are interesting in their own rights with their own strengths, weaknesses and insecurities. Yoojin really does feel like a caretaker since he cares immensely for those around him and often is the one who helps them grow as both a S Rank as well as a person. While his general goal is to live a happy life with little worries, he also takes care of those around him, trusts in his team (trusting in Myeongwoo despite him constantly feeling useless and his own brother despite the rumors of what he did to get to S class) and is overall just a generally kind person. He's pretty smart as well, keeping himself perceived as an S Rank, making strong connections to people and promoting his skill of beast taming, using his memory of the future to get the best possible results.
Yoohyun on the other hand is generally sort of in and out of the series. While he is a very important part of it (the reason why Yoojin survives, goes back in time and even gains his caretaker powers) he is absent in a lot of arcs or is not as important. Mostly his role is to be the money bag and be protective of his brother, since we follow Yoojin for the most part. He has a rivalry with Bak Yerim because of their status as both S Ranks (both are pretty protective over Yoojin) and Yoojin is actually raising Peace for his brother's sake despite the fact that the two don't really seem to get along. It's explained that Yoohyun's tendency of protecting Yoojin (the trying to cage him in the house, removing his limbs, etc) comes from the fact that he's S Rank, and more specifically because he's a natural born S Rank (one that when awakened immediately went to S). Like I said though, most of his yandere habits give the impression of being an overprotective yandere, which makes sense because Yoojin essentially raised Yoohyun (which is why it feels like their dynamic is closer to parent and son rather than brothers, though he has the tendency to have this parental affect on everyone because of his caretaker status) and Yoohyun wants to keep him safe. We can even see this because of the reasoning he initially shunned Yoojin in the first place - as a way to keep him protected from being associated with an S Rank and to prevent him from getting hurt in dungeons. After that he basically goes the completely other way and attempts to cage him, which is always really funny.
But yeah, its really good, I would recommend reading it, if not for the yandere, but for the story itself.
Also, I find this image very funny.
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💃 (You pick who.)
zoro. / @jigoku-no-marimo
It was quite the change to go from a grand home with empty halls with servants who didn't actually care for her, to an arguably just as grand pirate ship that felt so wonderfully and yet claustrophobically small at the same time. There was always conversation and life pouring throughout the Merry's halls. Friends running about, going about their own way but coming back together again eventually.
The Merry itself (the idea warming her, thinking of its namesake) seemed alive too.
Kaya felt she had so much energy now that she'd rid her system of the poisons Kuro fed her over the years. Would she ever be one hundred percent? She was unsure, and that would be a thought to mourn at another time. But she felt better than she ever had.
Kaya turned on a radio for accompaniment as she leaned over the railing, gazing out at the sea with wide eyes, wanting to take every instance of the sea into herself and make it her being. It was as if her body, now full of life again, couldn't stand still anymore after so many years locked away in the cage of her bedroom. She swayed as she stood there, letting the rhythm guide her. She was grateful to be alive.
She didn't expect Zoro to be the one to humor her in this moment, sharing a few lines of conversation before she turned and saw his proffered hand. If she had to admit as much, she was still intimated by the fearsome former pirate hunter. He was a man that could likely make the elements bend to the whims of his swords. He was blunt, and when he wasn't blunt, he didn't speak much. She didn't know what to make of their relationship.
But taking his hand now, letting her be pulled into the circle of his arms, there was a safeness there and a softness to his features behind the shrewd warrior's gaze, that contrasted against the persona he took on on the battlefield. He was at home, and the fierce beast within was at rest.
"Have you done much dancing before?" it was something of a slightly awkward question, but she wanted to get to know all of her new crewmates, her new family. "I can see how learning how to parry and dodge could be kind of similar."
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That is a Galaxy Brain idea. Aaliyah and Tia switch.
Because on the one hand, if Sage has already skip-de-do-dah-ed into Full Yandere for Aaliyah, Tia is going to have to do some really quick talking (and possibly shielding) to get Sage to at least humour her when they figure out that it was a switch. (Her resemblance to Natura isn't helping at all.)
Meanwhile, Sweetpea (which is Tia's favourite nickname for her Link alongside Gremlin) is happy to have a new fellow feral friend, but is also deeply concerned about her because she's confronted with the fact that in a different timeline, a timeline without her and a 'different' Princess, all of the champions survived, Hyrule itself wasn't nearly as damaged, several people that died are alive (including Link's sister who I've named Ariel) and there are still Divine Beasts here. (An extremely stressed Sheikah who bites and blows things up and is possibly on the edge of tears at any given moment is a bit beyond his still redeveloping social skills. Would she like a snack? Or some tea. Tia always makes tea for situations like this. He'll make some tea!) (Pray for him. He's usually more self-confident than this, but he is so out of his depth rn.)
(Tia learns about Aaliyah, thinks about the whole situation and starts wondering if she could commit interdimensional kidnapping.)
(Tia to Natura: If you can't play nicely with others, you don't get to play at all.)
Thank you, thank you <3 I was bound to have one eventually.
Okay, so, the best thing about Sage and Aaliyah is that they have been so broken ( I promise her backstory is coming soon so you guys don't have to guess what's going on in my head), that they can't recognize what a healthy relationship is. They understand what they have between themselves, and what they want from each other, but their relationship is probably dangerously co-dependent. They rely on one another to keep going. They have no care for doing things for themselves, but if bandaging a cut sets the Sheikah at ease, then Sage will do it. If eating more than just whatever scraps she finds settles him, Aaliyah will make time to eat a full meal. So when one half of that co-dependency is broken, the other is panicking. And when they panic, they get violent and unpredictable. Primal in the sense that they're missing such a big half of themself. Like a caged animal wound up, ready to strike.
And now, instead of his other half, he's faced with this imposter who looks so close to that witch that had damned them to start with? Yeah, she's going to have to talk fast and get to the point quicker. He's stalking towards her like a vengeful spirit, Master Sword dragging against the ground as it glints dangerously. He is a machine. anything to get what was his back. After she explains the switch and what it entailed, he's probably a little less jumpy. He's giving it some merit because it's what gets him back Aaliyah.
That doesn't mean he likes it though.
Sweetpea (AHHF I LOVE IT-) is deeply concerned. He's actually wondering if he can get her into therapy with the time he has her, because, like I said, Aaliyah is deeply co-dependent. So she's on edge and frazzled and so out of her depth she's freaking out. She hates not being in control and this gives her none. Not only that, but she's face with the Champions and the divine beasts and a kingdom that didn't fall.
I imagine with her title as the Sheikah Champion (Back in the Calamity days), she was privy to a lot more information than anyone else. Because there is no way the Sheikah didn't know more than they let on. My personal headcanon is that they know everything. They keep records of past generations. Of past Links. They know the prophecies and the stories foretold. They know it all. And they keep it locked down. Not even the average Sheikah knows. Just those in positions of power. Impa, Purah, Aaliyah. However because of this, she was trained from a young age. Groomed to be this weapon for this generation's Link and Zelda. She deviated however. She followed her duty in the sense that she died and fell for them (Only being kept alive by the Sheikah, who's loyalty lied with her rather than the crown), but after her death, it was like she was rewired.
Anyway, so being faced with her trauma once more hits her hard. The Calamity was something she was punished for mere moments after getting out of her own life preservation device. She didn't even know what she had done and they were holding her down. She couldn't even tell them her name before her back was being marked with lines that haunted her to this day. And it didn't happen here. Because their princess was worth so much more than the one she was faced with.
Sweetpea truly lives up to his name because just like Tia, he takes it in stride. He's following her at an appropriate distance, apologizing to those she snaps at and making sure she doesn't give anyone lasting trauma. He has no idea where she keeps pulling bombs from, but he's Stressed. But again, like Tia, he understands it comes from a place of grief. She's hurting and lost and this is just how she's been taught to handle it. And when the loneliness sets in and she's struck by just how far from home, from her Link, she is, she just shatters. It's a burst of destructive anger that leaves at least one forest in flames before she's just sitting there and crying.
Sweetpea is there the whole time, approaching when her flame shield finally shatters. He's offering tea and snacks because that's what Tia would do in this situation and she would for sure know what to do here because he doesn't and he does not wanna get skewered.
He's just as out of his depth as she is and is treading as carefully as he can. Her accepting the sweet bun he offers brings him a little ease even if he knows she's still wildly unpredictable. She trusts him just a bit.
(Interdimensional kidnapping could happen but she'd have to fight Sage. And he fights dirty.)
(Natura loosing privileges faster than she can blink-)
#cinder rambles#sorry#i said i would come out with her backstory later#Me#The sheikah are pretty much the illuminati
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I saw you have a Brushfire story in the works! Please tell me everything you can about that one! Also, will there be art to go along with all your story ideas, or just some of them?
I’ll admit, at first this was supposed to be more of a short comedy concept, but then I was like…what if I made her a secret badass. Also, I might make fanart for all my stories once I actually start writing more. But overall I definitely want to make fanart for this one, but not anytime soon tbh.
Brushfire’s Outback:
Brushfire has always held the rugged and sandy place of Australia as her home away from home. She likes to work alone most of the time, but if the opportunity ever arises, she’ll do her best as part of any team. But when she is alone, it’s the animals that keep her company. She often gets checked on from time to time, but it’s usually just a simple check up and an extra energon supply shipment. Of course, today was different, because sooner or later there would be company.
What appeared over the horizon startled her, but not entirely unexpected. A yellow sports car with red detailing came speeding in her direction. And since she was practically camouflaged with the rest of the scene, and the car was at maximum speed the sports car immediately zoomed past her. She realized that the car was heading for her base’s direction so she followed suit, wanting it to be a surprise instead. Then a shadow appeared in front of her, also following the driver. She noticed that it was coming from over her and saw that it was a two headed dragon. The winged beast swooped down gaining up on the car, as if they were racing. Both the dragon and the car were heading straight towards the barn, it was head to head, until the scaly creature flapped its wings and landed on the barn’s roof, with a look of pride.
“HA! I win!” Exclaimed Predaprince. The two-headed dragon then transformed into a bipedal Cybertronian and hopped off the roof, to be confronted by the car. “Yeah, yeah…look, all the sand kept slowing me down. If this was a race back on Cybertron, you would be eating my dust.” Scorch responded with confidence. He transformed back into his bipedal mode and started shaking the dust out of his pedes. “Yeah. Sure…says the one who’s literally covered head to toe with actual dust.” Using his claw to gesture to Scorch’s dirty exterior. “Ugh. Quickshadow said she would be here. We can’t be Team Scorchers without her.”
“Uh. Don’t you mean The Prince Squad.”
“Team-Scorchers.” Scorch said with a scrunched up look on his face. “The Prince Squad.” Predaprince quickly responded, crossing his arms.
They were both chest to chest, before they noticed a half-track vehicle rolling up to them. Scorch quickly transformed and Predaprince started digging underground and covered himself in rock. It wasn’t the best camouflage. Brushfire quickly transformed and introduced herself. Both coming out of hiding, they both introduced themselves and recollected their thoughts. As of recently, Predaprince had a recent…tussle, with a certain safari hunter who looked mighty keen on coming back for him. And Scorch being the one who, allegedly, rescued Predaprince, while being a freshman at RBA, was assigned as his-sort of-partner. Then both recruits were assigned to this designated area to which they were supposed to hide out, because they were both now on Quint Quarry’s radar. And to probably learn a thing or two from Brushfire about the art of escapism and self-defense, while still learning to be rescue bots.
“No offense, but what can you teach me, The Awesome Prince of the Predacon Kingdom about self-defense? Scorch definitely needs it, but not me.”
“Hey! I was the one to get you out of that cage in the first place. So maybe you should be the one learning about how to-you know-NOT be in a cage.”
“Yeah. And how about you learning to throw a proper punch, after losing your pathetic balance, and getting your butt kicked by a bunch of puny Earth robots.”
“Hey you two, no fighting-okay? We’re all on the same side here. But you both should know I was trained by both Hightide and Quickshadow, and that they’re too busy to take on any more combatants. And of course Predaprince, you’re right. You absolutely shouldn’t take lessons from someone you just met, and not even know their skill set yet. How about this, I will give you first strike, and you can see if I’m qualified to be strong enough to become the official teammate of The Awesome Prince of the Predacon Kingdom?”
“HA! I like her! Hey Scorch, maybe you should take some notes on how to properly not get your butt handed to you. Especially after I demolish this one!” Which earned a glare from Scorch.
Predaprince was soon humbled, as he was taken down in a matter of minutes. Scorch started to laugh like crazy, until he too was humbled, as his feet were swept up from underneath him and he was pinned down. Neither of them should’ve let their gaurd down, which is one of Brushfire’s first lessons. They both shouldn’t have underestimated her, especially since this was her Outback, and they were just living in it.
#IM SO SORRY I PROCASTINATED ON THIS SO MUCH#this was sitting in my drafts for the longest time I’m so sorry#transformers#rescue bots academy#maccadam#maccadams#rba brushfire#rba scorch#rba predaprince#this also definitely a sort of sequel to#Prince Of The Academy
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Voice of Cards: The Beasts of Burden Spoiler Post
Thoughts, Speculation, the juicy stuff you might want to know about if you don't plan on buying it...
So first of all before I get into it, short review: I think I liked FM more, that one did more cool stuff, but I liked BoB's Soundtrack better.
As with all VoC games, it's important to note that there is no lore, just vibes, so who's to say. Characters that look the same might be the same, but they also might not (I personally think they aren't).
That being said.
BoB is set in a world without night (like Automata) that is built on top of the ruins of giant cities (filled with YoRHa merch) and our protagonist (who looks like Zero) can use Nier DNA magic to capture monsters (some of which we have already seen before). Which kind of implies that it is in the far future of the far future. And I guess that also means that YoRHa had a merch division...
(Thought I just had: What if Yorha was just a brand name before it turned into the 2B factory, but that part was forgotten and these are just relics from before that time…?)
But that's not all! A big part of the game ends up being Al'e's ancestor, who's also the superboss of the game (which means I don't have his card yet and I'm too lazy to grind for it, so if any of you guys beat him feel free to tell me about what his card says)
And he also might be Brother Nier? (Don't worry, I'm only going to get more unhinged from here)
The base of his silhouette is a white haired boy with an iron pipe and he fights black and yellow monsters, who are man-made bioweapons that went out of control. To combat them he invented a medicine that alters a human's dna (Nier Magic Alarm) and it turns out that the beings that were blamed for everything bad are actually *gasp* humans themselves.
Now, of course that doesn't match Replicant 100%, but it lines up with it pretty well. (Also this was revealed in a movie which might be some degree of fake, so who knows.)
Honestly at first I really wasn't vibing with BoB doing the cycle of violence again, because at this point it's been done a million times, I don't think "I will do atrocities because you killed my [insert person i care about here], but maybe... doing atrocities is actually wrong, because we are the same??" is interesting enough to be redone as much as it already is, especially since drakenier already had at least one game about the cycle of violence (i guess they all are...? kind of?) but then they kind of acknowledge and point out that Yes. We have done this story already. That's the point of cycle of violence stories. It happens again and again and again. Maybe for different reasons, but it seems like we never learn.
And suddenly "Could this guy be Brother Nier?" makes it even more "Yeah. We have done this a lot haven't we. And yet."
Anyways, now to the juicy speculation portion I promised:
So the big bad of the game turns out to be Pulche's mom Mizara, who wanted to understand monsters against the scorn of her people, only to learn that monsters are actually humans. Since the atrocities against them are even wronger than what she initially believed, she turns against humanity and wants to turn everybody into monsters instead.
So. In the german script the monsters refer to her as Mama.
There was a moment where I thought "Wait... It's not... that Mama, right?", but since Mama is just the german word for Mom it's the most logical word for a german script to use here, and since I would trust the impeccable german localization with my life I just accepted that and moved on.
I also wasn't smart enought to just listen if Yui Ishikawa said Mama or not... so if you could tell me how they refer to her in other languages, feel free to do so, because if they also call her Mama...
But then we get to her final final form.
And I realized
that she's sitting in a cage...
(Well kind of, it's definitely a stretch, but I have long arms let me be delusional)
So what if she is that Mama...
While everybody else is ripped in half when they die, she just evaporates after she drank the monster potion and was defeated. And the cards for the three beasts paint a picture that they really deeply cared about their "Mama" and of course she's also Pulche's mom, too. So maybe she woke up as Mama in the cage, because that was what she was remembered as...
(No, don't worry, probably not. But as long as we don't have Mama backstory, we might as well pretend. And listen, playing Voice of Cards with a nier-lore conspiracy board makes it so much more entertaining, I highly recommend it.)
btw, Mizara being mainly driven by the lore reveals of a movie is so funny to me for some reason? Like, what if the movie is an entertainment movie and entirely made up, but nobody knows what movies are so everybody thinks that's the truth.
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AITA for creating a nightmare realm on a different plane of existence and dragging all students from my own founded school with me?
I (can't remember my age, M) used to go to a college which was heavily focused on the research of human evolution, and was well regarded by the general public as a result. The school found an ancient labyrinth underneath a city where we learned of an ancient race of humans that lived side by side with the Great Ones, the latter of which later ascended and left those humanoids to wait and look after the place. The head of the school (almost as ancient as those labyrinths lolllll, M), who we'll call W, and an old schoolmate of mine (can't care enough to learn that douche's name, M), who we'll call L, got into a dispute sometime later. W thought that, to evolve humanity to the level of the Great Ones and to ascend, we only needed insight, and to grow eyes on our brains. L, having found a left behind Great One, thought that, to ascend, we needed to use their blood. W thought the blood was dangerous, and that humanity should not treat something like that carelessly.
The two couldn't find common ground, so L went off to start his own organization, focused only on blood. It became the main trade of the city, since the Great Ones' blood could heal any injury or illness of a human, but he conveniently never mentioned, and continuously covered up, the fact that that blood mutated humans overtime, turning them into beasts from overuse.
Obviously, this was stupid and not at all the way to ascend, so I veered away from both W and L's organizations to start my own, which focused more on first learning of the Great Ones and reaching out to commune with them. For this research, we needed people, so I had some trained fighters and hardy criminals roam the streets of the city nearby to bring those people here for us to experiment on. This may sound bad, but it was a necessary step to ascension, and who cares anyway? Humanity was well out of its prime, it was time to leave this plane, anyway. My organization tried to make an artificial Great One out of bodies merged together, which didn't go quite as planned, and it reeked on top of that. Big disappointment, and now the streets are prowling with human amalgamations of several things. I tried the eye method as well, by taking the eyes of some prisoners and lining the brains of some others with them, but to no avail. I concluded ascension isn't something humans can do artificially.
One old classmate of mine had managed to ascend, but she became braindead as a result, or otherwise unable to communicate back to us, probably because it was too much for her. This led me to believe that it's not possible for just one person at a time, but that a group should be able to do it together. I also learned that dreams were the answer, and that to get closer to the Great Ones and directly communicate with them, dreams were our best option. I had everyone in my organization don a ritualistic cage on their head as a sort of antenna to direct Them to us, like a lightning rod, and we eventually managed to all leave this world behind and enter a nightmare, of which I am the host. We have audience with a Great One (infant, M?), but other than myself and some guy that tried to spy on us and thought I wouldn't notice lol, I haven't actually seen any others, though all our bodies in the waking world are long abandoned and dead. I don't think that counts as murder, I clearly explained the steps to take.
Anyway, TLDR, both the use of Great Ones blood and just gaining insight are stupid ideas, so I turned to closer research and dreams to ascend. Some sacrifices had to be made, so I hired kidnappers and had experiments performed on people to get closer to the truth, including fusing bodies together and creating a mass of rotting corpses to try and become an artificial Great One. Some people got caught inside the walls, too, but that's not on me, I didn't do any carpenting. It's not like I lied about blood being good for us and covering up the people losing their lives to it all just to save face, either. Furthermore, my method actually worked after all! So, AITA?
I know it all sounds very bad, but do consider I'm neurodivergent.
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