#maybe she can even do that for an immortal dragon god that went a little crazy...

[aeonianarchives]

Annoying Bird

Summery: I gave Thalion the same Birthday as me so here it is a Little Thalion birthday treat

Featuring: @eunoiaastralwings Oc Lúthriel, Feren, Meludir, Thalion, Aerdis

Pairing: Thalion x Aerdis

Warning: Sexual Refrances

"Lord Thalion have you seen someone with Blond hair and wings he got away with something from the kings vaults" A guard asked as two of them barged into Dragon's breath.

"I believe they went that way" Thalion said as he pointed in the opposite direction to where the man actually went the guards nodded and left, Thalion set the glass he was cleaning down and looked to the upper floor were a man with a hood and wings stood he motioned for the man to come down.

"Would you like to explain" Thalion said the man sat down

"Won't you offer me a drink first i think i'll have something cold" The Winged man said as he reached over the counter only to get hit by the towel Thalion used to dry glasses with the elf set it back over his shoulder as the winged man nursed his hand.

"I was on a chore to return something which belongs to my master in which your king or your kings father's father stole it from him" The man said as Thalion turned away again this time serving a customer

"is that bird brain of yours a size of a peanut or are you missing braincells Aerdis" Thalion said refuring to the Maiar with his name as he set the drink for the other customer down

"Ah you never believe me" Aerdis said

"Maybe you should become better at lying" Thalion said

"Anyway happy birthday Meleth" Aerdis said placing the thing he just stole from the king on the counter

"Give that back to Thranduil" Thalion said not even looking at it

"Fine if you insist" Aerdis said

"I do" Thalion said

"What do you want anyway" Aerdis said as Thalion turned to him

"I do not need anything, Elves do not celebrate birthdays like the other races do we find no need for them given we are immortal" Thalion said

"But i want to give you something it's the first time you have one of these Birthdays where you have a magnificent creature of god himself as your boyfriend" Aerdis said grandly standing up and puffing his wings out in pride

"Your not made by Eru your made by the Valar their is a somewhat small difference" Thalion said he turned to the waiter which worked for him

"Can you take over at the bar I need to go to the back to get some more Dragon fire" Thalion said the ellon nodded and Thalion left to the back the waiter didn't pay much attention to Aerdis he assumed he was a close friend of the owners meaning he didn't have to pay for something to be their.

"Hi, one Fire Forge and a dragons toast" A woman said from next to Aerdis

"Certainly ma'mam" The waiter said, Aerdis leaned over the counter and grabbed a bottle of wine

"Hmmm appropriately name" Aerdis said reading the name Nature's life given it was named after Thalion's mother and made in inspiration of her.

The Winged maiar got grabbed by his collar making him shout in surprise "Who the hell are you" the woman demanded

"Who are you their is no need for heroic deeds" Aerdis said

"I asked first i'll hit you with a tree" she said

"Assault on the messenger of Manwë you would never, believe i have no need to say my name i am known through the lands" Aerdis said

"Never heard of you" The woman said, Thalion came out of the back with a crate of Wine he set it down on the lower counter which was behind the bar counter

"Lúthriel unhand Aerdis" Thalion said taking the wine from Aerdis hands making the main screech much like an eagle.

"He cannot get off scotch free for stealing wine" Lúthriel said

"He's not but thats just his personality trying to steal wine" Thalion said

"Why are you not harsh on him it will get him to stop"

"Pyro hair can never be harsh on me he's not that mean" Aerdis said grabbing Thalion's waist coat collar and pulling him over the bar and kissing him

"Aerdis that is highly inappropriate" Thalion said

"Do i look like i care birthday boy" Aerdis said kissing the ellon again before he pulled himself out of Aerdis grip, he strightened his shirt and waist coat he woar before he re did his tie

"I can never dress like this with you around" Thalion said

"You have so many good gripping points how could i not" Aerdis said leaning on the counter head in his hand while his other twirled round Thalion's tie

"You really need to stop dressing like hobbits" Aerdis said as he pecked Thalion's lips

"Un hand me now Aerdis" Thalion said Aerdis hmmed

"If i say no, What are you going to do about it" Aerdis said Thalion grabbed the feather which hung from his belt and ran a finger down it making the winged man let him go

"You really forgot you gave this sensitive little feather to me, i can have you wrapped around my finger if i want" Thalion said as Aerdis slammed his head into the counter a blush on his face

"Fuck, Thalion please" Aerdis breathed

"Please what" Thalion said

"Stop, please you can't do this in public like this" Aerdis said

"I suppose you are right about that" Thalion said dropping the feather back to it's place on his belt Aerdis was breathing heavily and had his head on the table still

"Why did he have to make these wings so sensitive" Aerdis said in annoyance

"All the better for me i suppose" Thalion said lifting Aerdis chin up with his finger as the waiter set Lúthriel's food and drink down for her

"I think I have gone off of the food" she said

"Understandable" Thalion said leaning on the wall besides him the doors burst open to Meludir and Feren

"Some little birdy told us it was your birthday, sorry we're late someone is a suckle to the rules" Meludir said taking the other chair next to Aerdis

"Poor birdy did the big bad dragon get you" Meludir said

"You need to stop calling Thalion the big bad dragon" Feren said leaning on the wall behind Meludir as Thalion got them drinks

"Why don't you have a bard yet you would think they would all be fighting over who gets to play here, this place needs some music to add to the atmosphere" Lúthriel said

"They do this one however just accepts on Ellon who is way to shy to play here though" Feren said

"Hey Lindir is really good he's no Ecthelion, Maglor or Daeron but he is certainly up their especially for the third age" Thalion said setting down the drinks

"Have you ever considered just letting bards play here when Lindir isn't here, Lindir can't just play for you and be the only Minstrel here" Lúthriel said

"For now he can" Thalion said kissing Aerdis' head

"Don't suddenly start babying me" Aerdis said as Thalion wiped his hair out of his face

"Admit it you like the dragon babying you" Meludir said

"Never I am the one who is supposed to baby him" Aerdis said

"And you do a very good job at it" Thalion said

"Gi Melin melda"

"Gi Melin Ana Meleth Nin" The other returned kissing their lovers forehead

"So you stole it from Thanduil and a gift for Thalion, you could of just gotten something from the market like us" Feren said

"I wanted it to be special and unique" Aerdis said

"So unique that it belongs in Aran Thranduil's Treasures" Meludir said as he placed his small package on top of Ferens

"Yes" Aerdis said as Thalion pulled the ribbon off of Ferens and opened the wooden boxs on it's hinge

"It's a beautiful Dagger Feren Thank you Mellon nin" Thalion said

"Is it ceremonial" Meludir questioned looking at it

"No I do not believe it is, there is two in their the other is under the padding of the first one" Feren said

"Okay now open mine open mine" Meludir said Thalion chuckled but did as the younger elf wanted it was a note which read

Left it on your doorstep hope you like it i blew all my savings and favors to get my hands on it <3 Ily Mellon

"Well that will be a suprise for when I get home" Thalion said

"It was way to big to take here" Feren said

"Well now you have me worried" Thalion said setting down the letter

"It's nothing bad trust me" Feren said Thalion raised an eyebrow of questioning

"I would never get you something bad how dare you think i would" Meludir said

"Last time you brought me this bird tied up" Thalion said

"And I was a wonderful present" Aerdis said

"You didn't have to be naked save from the ribbon which covered you on my doorstep" Thalion said

"You enjoyed it stop denying it" Aerdis said

"I may of enjoyed it but you shouldn't of done it" Thalion said

"Is the Dragon blushing is he embarrassed" Meludir said

"Shut up, I'll make you pay your tab if you continue" Thalion said

"ANYTHING BUT MY TAB" Meludir wailed only for Feren to slap his hand over the younger elfs mouth

"No need to be so dramatic" Feren said.

Elvish Translation:

Meleth-Nin - my Love

Gi Melin - I love you

Melda - Darling

Ana - To

Mellon-nin - my Friend

#thalion #oc thalion #aerdis #oc #my oc #tolkien oc #lotr oc #luthriel #lúthriel #jrr tolkien #middle earth #the hobbit #lord of the rings #tolkien #lotr #elves #greenwood #mirkwood elves #mirkwood #feren #meludir #thalion x aerdis #oc x oc

[shoguns-second]

This was originally from Twitter but I wanna put it here too cause it’s a collection of little facts for Ananias I really enjoyed writing-

Under a read more so I don’t clog up the TL!

1. Ananias is not FULL Celestial dragon- her father was a Birkian slave so both her AND her twin have half Birkian in them- Annie presents it more these days- since she still has her wings, albeit heavily clipped so she can conceal them easier 

2. This lead her to spin her mixed blood as a "real gift from the gods" she sees and presents herself as fully divine- as a real breathing angel. Frankly she has forgotten she was even born from a slave, Well really she was never actually told.

3. She's alot older than she looks- 61 to be exact! her Birkian genes keep her features youthful and taught, another reason to why she sees herself as "immortal and holy" 

4. Despite her gender neutral opinion on herself, she desires to be treated as a man most of the time- using male pronouns and titles alongside her feminine ones which she only wants to be used on a personal basis- professionally she is seen as a man. 

5. He one of the only Celestial Dragons to go off Mariejoa as much as he does- Annie lives for travel and education much like his twin does (although perhaps not AS MUCH) One of his favorite things to do is visit Impel Down where he oversees some of the tortures~ 

6. His travel does pose a risk however- As a Celestial Dragon he still comes close to the hateful energy that provides- thus he has taught himself to defend himself PROPER- not just with a gun. He's not just a useless royal~ 

7. She's involved with Charloss more than she'd like to admit- mostly willingly but there are times where she wishes he would just stop pestering her. She's not afraid to give him a wack or a lecture though, which She often finds herself doing. 

8. As a Donquixote Ananias is Doflamingo's uncle, and you would THINK she has some sort of sentiment foe him. NOt exactly.. Homing was never looked upon fondly by her and just having that blood in his veins is enough to turn her cold.- HOWEVER She did go specifically to visit him  in Impel down when he was captured, to talk and maybe find some common ground.. it went well enough and now she wonders if she should strongarm to get him out of there.

9. She has an INCREDIBLY playful and childish side, loving toys and little gadgets. She collects trinkets made by only the FINEST and will often just take the entire toymaker with her. She has a "fleet" of whimsical men all dedicated to making her toys.

10. Although this playful side dissappears when she has to deal with anything involving the Marines, or even other Dragons. Replaced by a cold, stern, calculating look in her eye. As I said before, to her business is power and it shows through her switch. She can be quite scary 

11. He genuinely loves his twin however- despite the intense clashing view Ananias and Dulincea HAVE, They always seem to come out of it still knowing the love they hold for eachother is so deep.. It saddens Annie to hear his sister talk in the way she does but... he knows why. 

12. He LOVES Mjosgard- so so much, genuinely he would give that man anything in the world to see him smile, he's one of the two people Annie will have no issue with showing affection for. You can believe he FREAKED out during Myo's trip to Fishman Island.

#oc fact #text post #oc #I wanna write more of these soon #Annie has really got me in an iron grip

[frozenartscapes]

AN: A continuation of this post. This...got away from me a little...

@patricia-von-arundel Look what you’ve done

---

The Emperor was a fool.

No chains. No cell. Just a regular room with regular windows and regular locks and regular guards. The most done were the cuffs - enchanted metal bands that tempered her magic, weakened it enough so that she couldn’t bring out the Immaculate One. They weren’t even that tight - with enough effort and perhaps some butter, she’d be free of them in no time.

Nothing held her back from ripping that stupid girl apart. Nothing was stopping her from destroying the grand palace and the entire city that seemed to worship that heretic instead of the goddess.

So why couldn’t she do it?

She had made a promise... But what good were words? The goddess knew Edelgard had lied more than enough times in her life. Rhea had, too. Her vow made in the dungeons could have been as much a lie as what she had told the people of Fodlan for generations. Part of her thought it had been.

But just when her rage became a little too great, just when she thought about going on her rampage, it was like the girl knew. And she’d show up to Rhea’s door herself, alone, with a tray of tea or perhaps a book she thought the Archbishop would like.

Kindness. And trust.

It was so stupid.

And yet...it worked.

With good behaviour came more freedom. At first, Rhea wasn’t permitted to leave her room. That was said loosely, however, as there wasn’t much stopping her if she had wanted to. But then she was allowed out on her balcony - she had a balcony of all things!

Then she could leave under the watch of a guard. A single guard. Her. Against one guard. She almost felt sorry for the poor bastard, should she ever decide to act. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

But soon enough she was free to wander the palace on her own. Nothing was stopping her from just...walking out the gates. Back to Garreg Mach. Back to the war and victory against the monster who imprisoned her.

She would stand in the grand entrance of the Imperial Palace and look at those doors. Sometimes they had been left open to allow a pleasant breeze into the stuffy halls, and she could see the gate in the distance. It would be so easy.

But every time, she’d turn around.

She wished she knew why. She still hated that miserable girl with all her heart.

But things were so complicated now.

For so long, she saw the world in stark black and white. Now she was seeing grey.

Edelgard had told her what had happened to her. Rhea understood now why the Emperor had been so...emotional in the dungeons when she found her prisoner. She knew the reason why Edelgard had the same scars they had given her. She, too, had once been nothing more than a test subject, an experiment, a living cadaver.

But that was not where their similarities stopped.

There had once been eleven children of House Hresvelg. Now there was one.

Despite how she felt about the sole survivor, even Rhea couldn’t deny how horrifically sad her story was. She knew how it felt, to be left behind after the bloodshed. To be left alone in the world, the ability to love destroyed, trust and faith shattered, angry at the world and determined to fix it.

She still didn’t agree with the Emperor. Part of her still loathed her. But she understood her, now. Mostly.

She didn’t understand how she could work with those monsters. To Rhea, they were the Agarthans. To Edelgard, they were Those Who Slither in the Dark. A ridiculous name, yet Rhea found it appropriate.

She didn’t understand until one day she heard something.

She was wandering the halls, to nowhere in particular. She was simply admiring the architecture, the art, the ambiance. Red and gold was the dominant colour scheme in the palace and it felt warm, compared to the cool, stone halls of Garreg Mach. She was nowhere near any important room - just somewhere in the expansive marble labyrinth - but she still heard the Emperor’s voice coming from within a nearby chamber. The door had been left open a crack, so she could hear the muffled voices inside.

The Emperor and...a man. She thought maybe his voice sounded familiar, but it was difficult to place. Her memories of him were hazy, distorted...

“How long do you plan on keeping this up, Edelgard,” he sighed, his voice taking on a dangerous edge as he growled her name. Even Rhea shivered from it.

“As long as I wish to,” Edelgard replied, her tone strong and defiant, “And I have no plans to stop in the near future.”

“Do you realize how greatly this is setting us back? The war could be won in a few weeks if you would just-”

“I have no intention of allowing your ‘research’ to continue. If you could call torture research.”

There were the sounds of a struggle. Edelgard gasped in a panic. Rhea couldn’t hold back her curiosity and dared a peek through the crack in the door.

The man was large, imposing. He was dressed in the fine clothes of a noble and had long, slick black hair. And he had the Emperor of Adrestia by her collar.

Suddenly, Rhea was aware of how small Edelgard truly was.

“What did I say about interrupting me?” he growled, his furious face inches from hers.

“I’m...not afraid of you...anymore!” Edelgard gasped as she struggled to fight free. She managed to get one leg up and kicked him forcefully in the gut, and he released her with a grunt. “You crossed the line, Thales. You assured me that your experiments ended with me. If there is one thing I can put an end to in this world, it’s-”

He struck her, hard. Enough to send her reeling. Enough for blood to start seeping out from a cut on her lip. She held her cheek, attempting to relieve the pain, cowering under his intimidating form. “You are naive, my little niece,” he sneered, “It seems the crown has gone to someone’s head. Here you are thinking yourself the Queen... When really you are nothing more than a Pawn.”

To her credit, Rhea thought, Edelgard stood her ground. Despite the shock on her face. Despite the tremble in her body. Despite the fear in her eyes. She wiped the blood from her lip and stood up, tall and proud, defiant in the face of his threat. “I won’t let you hurt her anymore,” she stated, her voice low.

Thales glared down at her for a few agonizing seconds. Rhea found herself holding her breath in anticipation.

But then a grin spread across his face, and a mirthless chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s amusing how you seem to think you stand in my way,” he told her, taking a step forward.

Edelgard took a step back.

“Remember your place, girl,” he continued, the smoothness in his voice disappearing to raw force, “Remember who made you! Without me, you’d just be a snivelling little princess, married off to some lesser noble to be nothing more than a broodmare. I gave you everything - you think you can stand before me now and deny me what I desire? After all that?”

“You gave me nothing!” Edelgard spat, “All you did was take from me!”

He lunged for her again, but this time she was ready. She dodged, then spun around. Dark magic crackled to life around her hand and she sent it flying toward him. In an explosion of purple smoke and shadowy fire, Thales was sent careening across the room, slamming into an old cabinet.

Edelgard stood in the centre of the room. Rhea has witnessed this woman tear through entire squadrons of some of the finest soldiers, all without a moment’s hesitation. She has killed and maimed, set the world alight with the fires of war, and has shown little remorse for it.

Now she was shaking like a leaf in the dead of winter.

Before she had a chance to collect herself, the air fizzled with the sound of electricity seconds before an explosion of light and energy sped toward the Emperor. Edelgard let out a pained cry as the lightning enveloped her, dropping to her knees and gasping for breath.

Thales was upon her in an instant. He had her by the throat this time, rather than the collar, a knee pressed forcefully into her chest to keep her pinned to the ground. Despite how she fought and struggled, she couldn’t get him off her. And fear was weakening her efforts.

“I suppose I should tell you why I wanted to speak with you,” Thales said, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a small syringe filled with glowing green liquid, “Despite your interference, we were able to get something useful out of that woman. I theorize it will enhance your minor Crest. Or it will kill you. Either way, we’re about to find out.”

He tugged at her collar, exposing enough of her neck to find an artery. Rhea’s eyes widened in panic as she watched him bring that syringe full of poison to the Emperor’s neck. Her desperate pleas falling on deaf ears brought tears to the Archbishop’s eyes.

She hated Edelgard. But not this much.

The door flew open with a loud bang, and Thales looked up at the furious Archbishop with bored annoyance.

“Let her go,” Rhea sneered, fists clenched tight. Her magic screamed at her. How she wished she could become the Immaculate One and eat this bastard but the damn cuffs on her wrists stopped her.

Her first real obstacle.

Thales snorted in derision. “I didn’t know beasts cared about little girls,” he commented.

“Let her go,” she repeated dangerously.

“And how do you plan to stop me? You are unarmed and weak. This one was more a threat than you.”

“I defeated Nemesis with nothing more than a dagger,” Rhea growled, “I can beat you with even less.”

Thales met her threat with a smug smirk. “And here I thought only humans had that weakness,” he mused. He chuckled. “That’s good to know.”

He plunged the needle into Edelgard’s neck before Rhea could react, and the liquid was gone before she could reach them. She managed to throw him off the Emperor, but the damage had been done.

Edelgard let out a noise Rhea thought the sombre, quiet girl wasn’t capable of making. A scream - raw, pained, like she was being burned from the inside out.

It caused her to pause, to turn her attention to the Emperor. It was enough hesitation for Thales to warp away.

“Edelgard!” Rhea cried, attempting a healing spell despite the cuffs dulling her magic. It was no use - even if her magic had been at full strength, there was little that could be done about this kind of affliction.

Suddenly, her hatred for the Emperor was forgotten. As the girl on the ground writhed in unimaginable pain, tears streaming from magic-corrupted eyes and clawing at her chest as if attempting to rip her own heart out, Rhea forgot she even was the Emperor.

Guards were at the door in moments, responding to the scream. The Emperor’s shadow pushed his way to the front, and furious olive eyes landed on the Archbishop gently cradling the Emperor in her arms.

Rhea suddenly realized what this must look like.

---

To everyone’s surprise, Hubert had actually been on her side.

At first, he was the only one. But he recognized Thales’ handiwork. Rhea grimly realized how often this sort of thing must have happened for him to do so.

It was by his word alone that she hadn’t been executed on the spot, or thrown back in the dungeons. He had even allowed her to be present now, for some reason. Watching over the Emperor struggling to breathe, unconscious and in pain.

She remembered Hubert from the Academy days. He had always been distrustful of her. She remembered how his eyes would always follow her, watching, waiting for her to reveal something he could use against her. She remembered thinking from early on that she’d have to be careful of Hubert.

But he had confessed that, before she fell into a fitful sleep, Edelgard had managed to tell him that she had been there. That she had tried to save her.

And Rhea didn’t know what to think. That Hubert, as skeptical as he always was, would believe the Emperor so quickly. That Edelgard, in so much agony, had sought to ensure she wouldn’t be blamed for this. That she, Rhea - the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and declared enemy of Emperor Edelgard Von Hresvelg - was worried for the poor woman.

The world had been so much easier when it was just black and white.

She was alone with the Emperor now. It would be so easy to finish things. To end the war, to defeat her enemy, to win. But the fiery hatred she had once felt had been extinguished. And she was left with the smouldering remains, confused and conflicted and alone in the dark.

Edelgard let out a small moan and curled in on herself a little, hands still clutching her chest a little too tight. Without thinking, Rhea put a hand on her shoulder and conjured a small spell that would help with the pain.

A bitter grin stretched across her face. Edelgard was of House Hresvelg: the House dedicated to Seiros. Everywhere Rhea looked, she saw her Crest. Edelgard herself shared that Crest with her. The Hresvelg’s dedicated themselves to Seiros and asked her specifically for protection.

Rhea knew Edelgard wouldn’t beg a saint for help with anything. She also knew that the girl had likely lost her faith when she probably would have, but no one ever responded. Rhea didn’t want to imagine how many times this child and her siblings might have been calling for her aid based on promises the Church had told them, only for her to not even hear them. Let alone come to help them.

Well...now she finally had.

Another pitiful sound escaped the Emperor’s lips, and she shifted a little more. Unfocused lilac eyes slowly opened, and weakly searched the room. When they met Rhea’s, Edelgard smiled.

“Oh thank the goddess,” Rhea breathed, feeling relief wash over her.

“So... It didn’t kill me,” Edelgard uttered, wincing at the sound of her croaky voice.

“Whatever it was,” Rhea said grimly, “We don’t know what it did do...”

“We’ll find out eventually,” Edelgard assured her, “Right now... I need to...”

“Rest,” Rhea insisted, watching as the Emperor struggled to stay awake, “I’ll be here to make sure you’re safe.”

Edelgard shifted onto her side, and let out a heavy breath as her eyes drifted shut. That smile never left her lips. “Who’d have thought...” she murmured, “You of all people...”

Rhea let out a breathy chuckle. “Certainly not me,” she sighed.

“Rhea?” Edelgard was barely awake, now, and her voice was so small and sleepy she sounded more like a child asking for a bedtime story than a fearsome Emperor.

“Yes, my child?” Rhea asked, softly, once more forgetting just who the woman in bed truly was.

“Thank you.”

A small smile tugged at the edges of the Archbishop’s lips. ‘Alright,’ she conceded, ‘Perhaps the Emperor isn’t that much of a fool...’

#listen... i know this is highly unlikely #but i like the idea of el winning rhea over by treating her like a real person #not some saint or goddess on a pedestal #a real person with real feelings and real emotions #because maybe that's what rhea had been missing and why she missed her mother so bad #el's all about helping people realize their full potential on their own #maybe she can even do that for an immortal dragon god that went a little crazy... #i made thales worse here than he probably was #also to help rhea realize who the real bad guy was #fanfic #fe three houses #edelgard #rhea

[heliads]

Okay, so I didn't think anyone wrote for Hiccup till I saw your Hiccup x norse goddess thing, and I was hoping you could maybe do a part two? Where like, she visits again, but when she arrives, Thor arrives (same personality as MCU Thor), and they're good siblings, but they tease each other and have a sparring match, flexing their magic, and Hiccup and Stoick are just speechless, and Gobber just teases Hiccup with something like "So this is the type of woman you get to have when you're the almighty Dragon Conqueror" thank you in advance!

love the surge in hiccup requests we're having rn

part one / masterlist / part three

True to your word, you stay away from Berk. You’re used to staying alone for centuries, with no company but the relentless wear of the waves and the occasional drowned souls who make their way through to your kingdom in the sea. Each storm-tossed sailor has a story to tell before they go to the land of the dead, and you hear their lives as you always do. You watch the salt water eat away at everything but your stubbornly immortal body, and although it has never troubled you, it does now.

Maybe it’s because you got a little too used to what it was like up there, above the shore. Now that you’ve lived a little, seen rocky coastlines and loved them not for the waters that beat them but the people who walk them, you don’t quite feel the same. Mainly, though, you feel different because you met a boy, and left him.

You can’t seem to stop yourself from thinking about him. Gods aren’t supposed to get attached to mortals, or if they do, they’re supposed to lose interest after a few weeks. It’s been months now, months after you first left your ocean to visit Berk in the first place and months since you left it. Still, you turn your memories of that place over and over in your head, polishing them just as well as any piece of seaglass sparkling on the beaches.

Hiccup thinks about you too, you can tell. The sea dragons whisper to you sometimes, telling you of a boy with dark brown hair hanging in his eyes, who stands at the edge of the cliffline where you’d left and stares into the water for hours, hoping to see a face looking back at him that isn’t his own.

No matter how hard Hiccup searches, though, he never sees you. You’ve made sure of that. Odin only sent you to him as a messenger and questioner, and although he never went to the trouble of warning you away from him, it was implied that you would conduct your business and leave. No one told you what to do when the seas suddenly seemed empty and alone, when instead of exploring every corner of the ocean you only dream of a life up above.

You swore that you wouldn’t go back unless asked, though. Hiccup said that he’d extend an invitation, and about six months later, he does. The letter comes locked away inside a protective shield of rock, a cylinder about the height of a small dagger that’s clearly been chiseled away by hand so as to keep the paper inside safe from the water.

You open it in the relative safety of an air bubble, willing the water away with nothing more than a thought. Your fingers trace the letters, the splashes of ink. Hiccup wants you back, he says. Well, he doesn’t put it quite so plainly.

Instead, he talks to you about the dragons, what he’s seen since you left and what he forgot to mention in the months you spent on his island. Apparently, the same friends who were so easy to judge on your first day won’t stop talking about you. Even Astrid laughs over how quickly she dismissed you, and has been practicing in preparation for the next time you visit.

If you chose to visit, that is. Despite the fact that Hiccup’s gone to the trouble of contacting you, he still seems unwilling to commit to anything, least of all showing the emotion to hope you’ll come again. He doesn’t have to hide anything, though- you can sense it, the yearning melancholy that lingers around Berk. You miss him just as much, and so you make up your mind to go back, just as Hiccup asked.

Before you can embark on your journey, though, a flash of light rippling through your undersea kingdom indicates that a god is about to arrive at your home. Curious, you watch the glowing aura widen into the silhouette of a man. Could Odin have found out about your latest decision and sent someone to stop you? It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, gods visit mortals all the time.

This isn’t Odin, though, it’s your brother. Thor, god of thunder, is considered by many gods to be either a hero or a nuisance, a braggart and a courageous warrior and someone who is dangerous to be around but especially so when he’s worked his way through a few rounds of mead.

To you, he’s all of those combined, plus a friend. You raise an eyebrow at him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Thor grins broadly. “I figured it had been a while since I last saw my favorite sister, and I wanted to change that.”

You laugh. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be picking favorites among any gods. We get offended all the time.”

Thor shrugs. “If anyone attempted to challenge me on it, I would meet them gladly in brutal combat and win.”

You roll your eyes, but do so through a smile. Although you and Thor can seem like complete opposites, it’s good to see him, and you say as much.

Thor nods gravely. “Of course it’s good to see me. We are family, after all.”

You give him a look. “That doesn’t have to mean anything. So, are you just here on a catch-up, or-”

Thor shakes his head dramatically, and shocks of thunder can be heard even down here, miles below the sea line. “No, I’m afraid not. You have seen through me, sister. I heard that you recently went to visit the Dragon Conqueror and I wanted to hear the news.”

A plan is forming in your mind, and you grin at the thought of it. “Actually, Thor, I’ve got something even better. I was planning on paying Berk another visit. Would you want to come with me to check out the Dragon Conqueror for yourself?”

Thor beams ear to ear, brighter than a shock of lightning. “I would like nothing more. I do hope this Dragon Conqueror is up to a challenge.”

You chuckle to yourself. Hiccup’s going to kill you for this. Or think about it, maybe. He’s not enough an idiot to actually attempt to murder an immortal. “Oh, I bet he is.”

A small crowd is awaiting you at the shoreline when you finally walk up from the waves. Hiccup walks quickly to your side, looking happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Y/N! I’m glad to see that you could make it.”

He pauses a moment, then confides something in a whisper so no one else can hear it. “I missed you.”

You reach out to touch him gently on the shoulder. “I missed you too.”

And you have. The sea has never felt so lonely, so quiet. Already, even after having been here a mere couple of moments, you feel more alive than you have since you left.

Thunder rumbles overhead, and you smile. “Oh, I forgot to mention something. Would you mind if I bring a guest?”

Hiccup nods slowly. “Sure. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Out of curiosity, who’s coming?”

You tilt your head towards the sky as lightning flashes. “Thor.”

Beside you, Hiccup blanches. “Wait, you mean-”

The rest of his words are drowned out by a crackle of thunder, loud enough to roll across the island and bend the trees from the sheer force of the sound. Moments later, a god is standing beside you, clad in a warrior’s armor and carrying a hammer engraved with intricate symbols, heavy enough to crash through anyone’s skull.

You glance over at him. “Bit dramatic of an entrance, don’t you think?”

Thor scoffs. “You have no sense of the gravity of the situation. I’d say that I was just fine. If anything, it was a little tame.”

Hiccup’s friends have started to come over, attracted by the arrival of an unexpected god. Astrid is trying her best not to seem overly impressed, but her eyes keep going wide.

“Are you-”

Thor nods gravely. “Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, Hlóriði, Scion of Asgard, Wielder of Mjolnir-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Alright, alright. They get the point.”

You’re not sure who looks more surprised, the Vikings that you’re able to interrupt Thor so easily or Thor that you’d stop him when he was just getting started.

Hiccup is the first to speak. “Well, Thor, it is an honor to have you on our island.”

Thor just grins. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Visiting mortals is a fun little hobby of mine. Besides, didn’t you conquer dragons or something? I’m a big fan of that.”

Hiccup glances over at you questioningly, and you bite back a grin. “I’m glad the two of you are hitting it off so nicely. Thor, how about we head further into the village? I’m sure there are a few other warriors who would just love to meet you.”

Thor’s face brightens. “An excellent idea. I shall see you there.”

He starts up the path and you follow him, chuckling. You weren’t entirely sure how well this would go, but you’re not sure you mind it. Besides, it’s so good to be back that you’re okay with Thor being dramatic. You’ve barely exchanged a few words with Hiccup, but just being able to see him again is enough for you. Gods aren’t supposed to lose themselves on mortals, but you’re starting to think that it’s a little late for that now.

The other Vikings fall into rank beside you, and you and Astrid start talking about various comings and goings of the world. The two of you quickly became friends despite the mishap of your first visit, and you’re fairly sure that both of you would be glad to move on from it. Besides, Astrid brings news of all the times she’s caught Hiccup moping around waiting for you to return, which thrills you a little more than it should.

Despite your conversation, you can still pick up snatches of whispers behind you. Hiccup and Gobber are talking, and you think they’re talking about you.

Right now, Gobber’s chortling to himself. “Honestly, my boy, I don’t know how you do it. First this business with the dragons, then taking over more leadership roles from your father, and getting people to agree. You’re doing well for yourself.”

Hiccup smiles quietly. “Well, I appreciate your thoughts. It’s been hard, sure, but-”

Gobber elbows him in the side, a gesture that was likely intended to be friendly but ends up shoving Hiccup a few inches to the side. “Oh, it looks good now, doesn’t it? You’ve got Thor on your own doorstep, plus the queen of the seas visiting for fun. So this is the type of woman you get to have when you’re the almighty Dragon Conqueror. Maybe I need to look into doing some of that myself.”

Hiccup’s eyes are wide, and he seems unable to respond. You turn back to Astrid with a grin that hadn’t been there before. Maybe this visit will be more fun than you’d imagined.

disney tag list: @lovesanimals0000

#hiccup #hiccup imagines #hiccup x reader #hiccup oneshot #hiccup haddock #hiccup haddock imagines #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup haddock oneshot #httyd #httyd imagines #httyd x reader #httyd oneshot #disney #disney imagines #disney x reader #disney oneshot #httyd hiccup #httyd hiccup imagines #httyd hiccup x reader #httyd hiccup oneshot

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

Stories I haven’t read yet, but clearly need to put on my ever-expanding List.

~*~

Welcome back queen [Thank you, it’s so lovely to be back!] if ur still doing follower recs I gotta recommend I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett it’s soooooooo good

[This one was actually recced to me by two different people, the other of whom said, “ Maybe I'm crying a little so I feel like a should recommend ‘I would wait for a thousand years’ by bleuett on ao3.”]... it’s def. on my List!

I would wait for a thousand years

by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian)

Summary:  During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair.

“Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.”

“I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.”

“And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.”

~*~

I just read a great fic by aisthuu "every love story is a ghost story", didn't see it in your recs so wanted to recommend it! LWJ is a guqin composer and teacher, buys a cheap guqin off eBay which ends up being attached to WWX's spirit from canon era. It's bittersweet, LWJ deals with Lan's homophobia (implicit in a Lan way) and his feelings towards the ghost. This is author's only ao3 fic and honestly I don't remember how I stumbled upon it, but I'm happy I did and hope you will enjoy it too!  [I’ve recently read this one, and loved it!]

every love story is a ghost story

by aisthuu (M, 59k, wangxian, my bookmark)

Summary:  The man is in Lan Zhan’s bed. Did they—he begins to wonder, eyes trailing to where the man’s body lies under the blanket. Had Lan Zhan—?

Then the sleep-fog clears and Lan Zhan realizes that the young man isn’t quite opaque around the edges.

“You’re a spirit.”

The spirit narrows its eyes. “I’m so much more than that.”

(Lan Zhan buys a guqin off eBay for a suspiciously low price, only to find that it’s haunted. And now there’s a ghost in his bed.)

~*~

Ok so I absolutely have to rec "see you yesterday" by glyphic. It's a wip, but it's currently at 101k so there's a whole lot there, and it's terrible and wonderful and beautiful all at once. The way the backstory of canon events is adapted to the modern-with-cultivation setting is brilliant, and then there's the amnesia, and then there's the time loop. This fic lives permanently rent-free in my brain.

see you yesterday

by glyphic (M, 101k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  

Wei Ying 21:09 hey lan zhan what’s the weirdest way youve died

Lan Zhan 21:11 Falling encyclopedias.

Wei Ying 21:12 omg no way that’s so rude turning books against you???

Lan Zhan 21:13 A betrayal I will never forget.

On Halloween night, an exiled demonic cultivator and a Lan disciple get stuck in a time-loop, find each other, and try to figure it all out.

~*~

If you are looking for recs for yourself I absolutely love (the complete!) story Just as the Snow Melts by draechali on AO3. It's a canon divergence where everyone lives, even WWX! ~ @airmidcelt

Just as the Snow Melts

by draechaeli (T, 67k, wangxian)

Summary:  Like a snowy mountain top in spring the residents of the Burial Mounds trickled down the mountain and joined the flow of society.

“I went to the Burial Mounds,” Lan WangJi said.

“Ah, yeah… I’m sorry Lan Zhan,” replied Wei WuXian, “I hadn’t thought anyone would come to visit. I am still not sure how it happened; I brought A-Yuan to Yiling to play by the river and then ended up somehow teaching a bunch of children swimming and writing along with him.”

~*~

Hello! It's come to my attention that you have not as yet read Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation! Please do! It's the only thing that gave me joy during 2020 😆 like proper belly laughs and disney villain style cackling. It is a wip, and it is long but so so worth it!! The author has reworked the entire canon through these message crystals and still conveys complex characters despite the tricky format. It's just so good!! Highly highly recommend it! ❤ ~ @theladypeartree  [Oh!  I’ve been subscribed to this one, and know that @swaglexander-the-great is a reliable provider of Hilarity, so I’m excited for it to be finished!]

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation 

by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 49k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  The Untamed universe is exactly the same, except everybody has magical crystals that have a suspiciously familiar messaging system. The story is pretty much the same as the show, except everyone lives!! (so minor changes).

or in which Wei WuXian tries his darndest to date Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng possibly has a aneurysm, Jin ZiXuan is still the most awkward human alive, and Xue Yang makes me write some VERY cursed things. Written in chatfic format! :3

~*~

Chomrafy on AO3 deserves love and encouragement; she’s written a body of compact, poetic, and eloquent shortfics each of which can stand alone, but that comprise an intricately cross-referential and mostly internally-consistent universe. They’re grouped as chapters in works according to theme; for example, “in cupped hands” focuses upon Jin Ling and his second-generation baggage; “Departure in Autumn” portrays the last years of WWX’s first life. Follow the tag “Chomrafy’s MDZS shortfics.” [I don’t see this tag?]

in cupped hands

by chomrafy (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary:  Of secrets, of futures, of love. A Jin Ling-centric collection of 200-word fics.

Ch.1: Jin Ling repays a debt (JL, JC, & WWX). Ch.2: Jin Ling and a ghost in the mirror. (JL & JYL) Ch.3: A matter of friends (JL & the other kids) Ch.4: In this house we don't keep dogs (JC & WWX) Ch.5: In the end, he remains silent (JL & uncles) Ch.6: A first night hunt, of sorts (JL & the other kids) Ch.7: Jin Ling, forgiving, forgetting (JL & LXC & JGY) Ch.8: Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling argue (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.9: Jin Ling and his father (JL & JC) Ch.10: Jin Ling speaks up (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.11: Jin Ling and a piece of home (JL, JC, & WWX)

Departure in Autumn

by chomrafy (not rated, 6k)

Summary:  Four perspectives. A steady march to the end.

Ch.1: Because if anything happens to them, Wen Qing would never be able to heal with these hands again. Ch.2: As long as this is still home, Jiang Yanli will wait as long as she needs to. Ch.3: Five times Jiang Cheng reaches for Wei Wuxian, one time he turns away. Ch.4: Whether the road is broad or narrow, bright or dark, they would have to keep walking. Wei Wuxian digs Wen Qing's grave.

~*~

Hello, hope all is going well. I don't have an ask, by I do have a recommendation. I read this fic a while ago and found it again. I just wanted to recommend this for everyone. Let me know what you think please. Thank you. [Oh!  This one’s in my To Read list, but  I’d forgotten about it.  Mmmm, fox!wwx and dragon!lwj.]

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers

by Yukirin_Snow

M, 274k, wangxian

Summary:  He was a mischievous fox spirit, wreaking havoc where he went, about to depart on a journey that would span centuries.

He was a heavenly prince, a proud dragon destined to ascend the throne to become emperor.

Neither expected their paths to collide over the span of three lives.

~*~

I forgot if it was your blog 😥 that recommended “Bestseller” (when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528316/chapters/51318766)

But OMG IT WAS HILARIOUS!!! I LOVED IT!! And if it wasn’t your blog, I’m so sorry for how weird this sounds 😭😭😭😭 I just loved this fic so much that I have to tell it to someone 😢 [It’s on my List, but I haven’t read it yet!]

Bestseller

by pupeez4eva

M, 8k, wangxian

Summary:  He had written the book to prove a point. It was never supposed to be a big thing, and he certainly never intended for everyone — Jiang Cheng, Zewu-Jun, the Juniors, literally everyone— to be reading about his sex life.

Oh God, he definitely needed to make sure Lan Zhan didn’t find out about this.

(Or, when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit).

~*~

I’d like to rec On Your Marks, Get Set, Bake! by @blackwiresgrowonherhead

It’s one of my absolute favorites and I laughed out loud so many times when reading it

on your marks, get set, bake!

by BlackWiresOnHerHead

G, 41k, wei wuxian & juniors

Summary:  Jin Ling resumes thumping on the door to room 721, and the small collection of freshmen starts chanting “Senior Wei! Senior Wei! Senior Wei!” with increasing volume until finally Wei Wuxian opens the door.

“Yes?” he says with his widest, most innocent eyes.

“Senior Wei!” demands Lan Jingyi, shoving himself to the front of the group. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re a contestant on this year’s season of The Great Gusu Bake Off?!?”

--

Several months ago, college student Wei Wuxian secretly competed in the most popular reality show in the country. The show starts airing in the fall. The freshmen in his dorm collectively lose their minds.

~*~

If you're in the mood for v. short ridiculous fun fic, may I suggest My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio by x_los It's 2k modern cultivators AU, featuring WWX calling LWJ's sword Bitchin' [omg I’m laughing so hard] and I think it's more fun going in blind?

My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio

by x_los

T, 2k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Wangji finds he doesn't even need to call for help for Wei Wuxian to come running.

#follower rec #wangxian fic rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET #wangxian #mdzs

[aiweirdness]

How to begin a novel

Last year for National Novel Writing Month I trained a neural net called torch-rnn on 10,096 unique ways to begin a novel. It came up with some intriguing possibilities, my personal favorite being “I am forced to write to my neighbors about the beast.” But many of its sentences used made-up words, or had such weird grammar that they were difficult to read, or meandered too erratically. (“The first day of the world was born in the year 1985, in an old side of the world, and the air of the old sky of lemon and waves and berries.”) The neural net was struggling to write more than a few words at a time.

This year, I decided to revisit this dataset with a larger, more-powerful neural net called GPT-2. Unlike most of the neural nets that came earlier, GPT-2 can write entire essays with readable sentences that stay mostly on topic (even if it has a tendency to lose its train of thought or get very weird). I trained the largest size that was easily fine-tunable via GPT-2-simple, the 355M size of GPT-2. Would a more-powerful neural net produce better first lines?

One of the parameters I can tweak when I’m getting a trained neural net to generate text is temperature - this controls whether the neural net chooses the most likely next bit of text as it writes, or whether it’s permitted to use its less-likely predictions. At a default of 0.7, a relatively conservative temperature, the neural net’s first lines not only make grammatical sense, but they even have the rhythm of a novel’s first line. This is DRAMATICALLY better than torch-rnn did.

I am, or was.

At the mid-day meal the sun began to set and the quiet dragged on.

There was once a man who lived for a very long time; perhaps three thousand years, or perhaps a thousand million years, maybe a trillion or so, depending on how the scientists look at it.

He had the heart of a lion, and the fangs of a man-eater.

"I am Eilie, and I am here to kill the world."

The old woman was sitting on a rock near the sea, smoking a pipe.

I have just been informed, that the debate over the question 'is it right or wrong to have immortal souls' has been finally brought to a conclusion.

When I was a boy, I was fond of the story of the pirate god.

He had a strange name, and he was a very big boy indeed.

The purple-haired woman came to the clearing in the plain, and without looking up from her book, said, "It's too late to be thinking about baby names."

The village of Pembrokeshire, in the county of Mersey, lies on a wide, happy plain, which, in a few years, was to become known as the "Land of the Endless Mountains."

I don’t think the neural net plagiarized any of these? They are so good that I’m suspicious. But others of the neural net’s lines are even weirder, yet in an effective way that opens with an intriguing premise.

The moon had gone out.

I was playing with my dog, Mark the brown Labrador, and I had forgotten that I was also playing with a dead man.

The black stone was aching from the rain.

The short, dirty, and dirty-looking ship that weighed three tons and was three feet in diameter landed on a desolate and green plain.

How many times have I had the misfortune to die?

The first black dog in the park had been captured alive.

Behold the Sky Rabbits!

In the belly of the great beast that was the bovine Aurore there lived, upon the right hand of the throne, the Empress Penelope; and she had, as it were, a heart of gold.

The moon stood on its own two feet.

The reeking maw of the blood-drunk ship, the enemy's flagship, was silent and empty.

The first day I met my future self, I was aboard the old dirigible that lay in wait for me on the far side of the moon.

The child of two cats, and a tiger, a clown, a horse, a bird, a ship, and a dragon, stood on either side of the threshold of the Gatehouse, watching the throng of travelers who came in from all around the world, before he had any idea what was going on.

I think it’s probably doing this accidentally, stringing likely words and phrases together without understanding what any of them really mean. It’s not that it’s good at science fiction or magical realism; it’s that it’s trying and failing to predict what would have fit in with the usual human-written stuff. Some of the neural net’s first lines really betray its lack of the understanding of the laws of physics. It really likes to describe the weather, but it doesn’t really understand how weather works. Or other things, really.

The moon was low in the sky, as though it had been shipped in from the farthest reaches of the solar system.

The first star I saw was a blue one, which became a scarlet one, and then a gold one, and green, and finally a yellow one, which for some years afterwards seemed to be an ebony one, or even a bubbling mass.

The sun rose slowly, like a mighty black cat, and then sank into a state of deep sleep.

The sea of stars was filled with the serenity of a million little birds.

The great blue field was all white, swept away by the blue-gold breeze that blew from the south.

The sky was cold and dark, and the cold wind, if it had not been for the clouds, would have lashed the children to the roof of the house.

The morning sun was shining brightly, but the sky was grey and the clouds aching.

The night that he finally made up his mind to kill the dog, the man was walking home from the store with his wife and child in the back seat.

Arthur the lion had been pretty much extinct for some time, until the time when he was petted by Abernathy the old woman, and her son, Mr. Popp.

One of the disadvantages of having a neural net that can string together a grammatical sentence is that its sentences now can begin to be terrible in a more-human sense, rather than merely incomprehensible. It ventures into the realm of the awful simile, or the mindnumbingly repetitive, and it makes a decent stab at the 19th century style of bombastic wordiness. I selected the examples above for uncomprehending brilliance but the utter tediousness below is more the norm.

The whites of my eyes shimmered, as if my mind were dancing.

I once went to a party where the dress code was as strict as a chicken coop with no leggings and no boots.

A black cloud drifted by, a mottled mass of hydrogen, a black cloud of hydrogen, with the definite characteristic of being black.

I say I am at sea, because I am standing upon the ocean, and look out across the barren, vast throng of the sea.

It is, of course, a trifling matter in the ordinary course of things, if a certain writer were to write a novel, which is a book of stories, which is a book of characters, wherein every detail of the story is stated, together with a brief description of the theme which it concerns.

There was a boy with blue eyes, with sandy hair and blue eyes that looked at all times like he had been pushed through a million compartments.

The Sun, with its rolling shaft of bright light, the brilliant blue of the distant golden sun, and the red glow of its waning corona, was shining.

The man who was not Jack the Ripper had been promoted four times in the last two years.

Felix the Paw was sitting at the table of his favorite restaurant, the "Bordeaux" in the town of Bordeaux, when his father, Cincinnata, came in to say good-by to the restaurant.

It, sir, gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that the Court be not too long in passing away: but that I may have leisure to prepare a new work for the publication of my friend and colleague, the renowned Epistemology, which is now finished; and in which I shall endeavour to show, that this very point is of the highest importance in the subject of the philosophy which I am about to treat of.

It was a rainy, drizzling day in the summer of 1869 and the people of New York, who had become accustomed to the warm, kissable air of the city, were having another bad one.

Repetitiveness is also common, especially at this conservative temperature setting. Once the neural net gets itself into a repetitive state, it doesn’t seem to rescue itself - it’s a problem that people have noticed in several versions of this algorithm. (It doesn’t help that I forgot to scrub the “title” that someone submitted to the dataset that consists of the word “sand” repeated 2,000 times)

The sky was blue and the stars were blue and the sun was blue and the water was blue and the clouds were blue and the blue sky was like a piece of glass.

At the end of the world, where the tides burst upon the drowned, there exists a land of dragons, of dragons, which is the land of the dragons.

It's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, you're dead.

There was once a land of sand, and sand, sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand

Increasing the temperature of the sampling would help the repetitiveness problem, in theory, letting the neural net venture into more interesting territory. But at a temperature of 1.0 the text tends to venture out of everyday surrealism and into wordy yet distractible incomprehensibility.

The praying mules on the top of the hills sounded the final klaxon, lifting their spiked front hoofs as they crept the last few feet of desert landscape past the crest of the enormous swathe of prehistoric sand.

In the glen of the Loch is a ladder that winds way up through a passage to a ledge with soft, moss-laden environmental standards.

Someone whipped a dead squash gibbet across the room, like some formidable war lord unleashing a heavy hunk of silver at home.

One blue eyed child stood up and cried out: "Douay, saurines, my Uncle – Fanny Pemble the loader!"

Jud - an elderly despot, or queen in emopheles, was sitting across the table from the king, looking very thoughtfully into the perplexions of the proceedings.

Oh, you're a coward little fool, as if you couldn't bear to leer at a Prunker or white-clad bodyguard quickly emerging from a shady, storm-damaged area of the city.

Hanging presently in his little bell-bottomed chamber on the landing-house, early in the morning, the iron traveler sat on a broad-blonde sandbricksannel blanket outside the gate of a vast and ancient island.

Long, glowing tongues trailed from your mouth as you listened to what was being said across this kingdom of ours, but growing a little more somber since the week that caused us to proclaim general war.

The night I first met Winnie the Pooh, I had sat in the Tasting-House and heard the Chef unpack the last of the poison upon his quiet dinnertable.

There is, of course, no perfect setting at which the neural net churns out sensible yet non-repetitive first lines. There are just varying shades of general awfulness, interspersed with accidental brilliance.

No matter how much you’re struggling with your novel, at least you can take comfort in the fact that AI is struggling even more.

I generated all the neural net sentences above using a generic “It” as the prompt that the neural net had to build on (it would usually go on to generate another 20-30 sentences at a time). But although the sentences are independent in my training data, GPT-2 is used to large blocks of text that go together. The result is if I prompt it instead with, say, a line from Harry Potter fanfic, the neural net will tend to stick with that vein for a while. I've included a few examples as bonus content for subscribers.

Update: I now have a few thousand unfiltered examples of neural net-generated first lines at the GitHub repository where I have the original crowdsourced dataset. Themes include: Harry Potter, Victorian, My Little Pony, and Ancient Gods.

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

#neural networks #you look like a thing #nanowrimo #gpt-2 #writing #first lines #gpt-2-355m

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love 22

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi

Chapter Summary: You and Yoongi find each other in Inferno

Previous chapter here

Yoongi gingerly stood up in the boat, monitoring the rocking. “It’s been what, a few hundred years?” He said smugly as he gazed across the icy dead-filled sea. He smirked at the arch-demon, Lucifer.

 Lucifer completely stopped beating his huge leathery, causing the Cocytus Sea to fall still. His form was that of a giant Beast; the head of a dragon and the body of a griffin. His lower half was encased in an icy miasma. His taloned arms flailed and clawed at the ice, trying to drag his lower half out of the sea. “Almost a thousand. Let me out!” He roared in Anger, venom dripping from his mouth.

 Yoongi stood there, he didn’t have time for this. Acting bored, he sighed. “No. I don’t think I will. Did another living being pass through here?” He attempted to remain calm.

 Lucifer laughed, a deep and terrible sound.  “And if someone did? Why would I tell you? You and your brother put me here to torture me.” He struggled once more, “Release Me!”

 “My brother and I put you there because you fought for the Titans.” Yoongi paused; remembering the end of the Titan wars, he shuddered.  “You have at least another millennia of penance.”

 The dragon snarled, assessing Yoongi with his golden eyes. “Who can say the girl is still alive? Perhaps she succumbed to the wailing souls and slipped into the sea.”

 Yoongi felt nauseous at the thought, and yet he knew in his heat you were still alive. He snorted in disgust at Lucifer and angrily sat down, grabbing the oars. "Then it would seem we have nothing to discuss.”

 “Wait! Wait! Let me out!!!” Lucifer continued to claw at the ice. “If you release me I’ll help find that Goddess. She’s probably in the middle of the Inferno right now. You won’t be able to reach her in time.”

 Yoongi bit his lip wondering what his chances were. Wondering what your chances were.  Lucifer was responsible for keeping the souls in Cocytus. Was there someone else who could do it? He cursed in irritation that he had to make this decision. Why did he tell you to leave? Fuck. Lucifer has tortured thousands of mortals when he was free. He had ripped apart lesser gods and goddesses.

 Yoongi sighed, “No.” He said decisively. “I’ll see you in another thousand years.” He started to row further East, feeling the temperature increase almost immediately.

 “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” He heard the dragon roar, but it was too late. He knew you wouldn’t approve of releasing a monster, even if it meant saving you. And he hated it. Because for you, he would have done it.

--------

Beyond the Cocytus Sea lies something far more treacherous. Beyond the wailing souls and the icy waves, you will find the Inferno. Saved for the souls of tyrants, the fire is so hot that at first it feels cold. The caldera of Magma is fed through channels that run deep through the Underworld. Flames rise up through poisonous geysers , threatening to suffocate anyone who breathes the air. 

 It would seem this chapter in the Compendium had not been an exaggeration. You had dipped your cloak in the water of Cocytus when you saw that you were approaching the lake of fire. You wrapped the damp fabric around yourself and began to say your prayers to Athena. Silent tears fell down your face. Would the boat catch on fire? You had no way of knowing. You tried in vain to paddle against the wind, but the Cocytus breeze was unrelenting; the pull of the Inferno unyielding. You took a deep breath as the boat quietly slipped from the seawater into the lava. You waited for the boat to melt; for the wood to catch fire. It did not.

 You looked around. The sky was pitch black. The surface of the Lake was molten lava. And it was so very hot.  In the distance you could make out the silhouette of rock features, geysers rising and spewing noxious fumes into the air. You laid down on the bottom of the boat. It had gotten you through Cocytus, maybe you could float through Inferno. 

 Time passed by slowly as you felt the boat rock gently. You recounted your youth, playing with Hoseok, your mother braiding your hair, helping mortals with their gardens. Really, you had lived a good life. You hadn’t planned on coming to the Underworld. But you were happy you did. Other than today. Even then, this morning had been great. You breathed shakily as you remembered resting your back against Yoongi’s chest; his fingers exploring your body. You really thought you had a future with the Lord of the Underworld. You hadn’t thought your future was to die down here. At least not for several thousand years. They say for mortals their life flashes before their eyes before they die. Was this the same thing? The tears evaporated off your face almost as soon as they fell. Your lips began to feel exceedingly dry; unable to keep saliva in your mouth anymore. It was so hot.

 To your surprise, you felt the boat suddenly and decisively change direction. Your eyes went wide as you sat up and saw a cave entrance, carved into a sheer rock wall. The mouth of the cave was dripping with magma, looking like the jaws of a fiery beast. In your heart you knew that all that lay on the other side of this entrance was nothingness. This was the end. No. Nonononono. You started trying to row against the pull. 

 Yoongi sailed through the rest of Cocytus easily, his powers regenerated when he paused for his chat with Lucifer. Once he entered Inferno though, the magma pushed against the boat trying to keep him out. He scanned the horizon in annoyance. What good was being the Lord of the Underworld when everything down here attempted to defy him? Annoyed, he removed his shirt and prepared to shift. He had little use for his true immortal form. The monsters that lurked in the Underworld for enough. He much preferred the comfortable form of a human. He winced in pain as he allowed the skin on his back and shoulders to rip apart. 

 “Ahhhh….” He cried out. It had been hundreds of years since he used his wings. The last time was in a contest with Jungkook. He had lost and swore off ever using the useless things ever again. The midnight black appendages unfolded, flanking his back. He stood up and flapped them several times. Just like riding a horse, he reassured himself. He took a deep breath and leapt up, allowing his wings to beat down against the air. He slowly became airborne. 

 Where were you? He flew up higher, attempting to study the flow of the magma. He saw you finally. The small boat was a few meters from the Nihil Cave. No. Anything that went into that cave became nothing. No Elysium. No Underworld. Just nothing. He swooped down, too fast too fast.

 You turned your attention from the cave mouth behind you where you had heard a whooshing sound, followed by a splash.  What? Your surprise turned to horror as you saw Yoongi pop up on the surface of the magma.

 “Yoongi!?!” You cried, as best you could with your parched throat, trying to row over towards him.

 Yoongi resisted the urge to gasp for air, keeping his mouth tightly shut. He was immortal, but he felt pain. He imagined magma down the throat would be extremely painful. He felt his skin start to burn.

 “Oh my God.” You cried, seeing Yoongi’s skin melt off, revealing red and black underneath.  Your eyes stung with tears. “I’m coming.” You said, but the oars wouldn’t budge. 

 Yoongi’s eyes widened with fear as he watched you throw the cloak to the bottom of the boat and look at him. “Persephone. No. No.” He started to swim frantically towards the boat.

 You jumped in. The Compendium was right. It was cold for a split second before you felt the fire erupt around you. Fuck this was a bad idea. You swam up towards the top of the caldera. You looked around frantically when you finally surfaced. Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck this hurt. Ouch.

 You felt something pull on your shoulders.  “Hold on,” you heard Yoongi say gruffly. You barely had time to comprehend before you felt yourself being plucked out of the magma and soon flying over it. You didn’t have time to register being dropped unceremoniously into the row boat you could only assume was Yoongi’s. 

 Yoongi plopped down in front of you, breathing heavily. His wings were tattered and his human skin sloughing off his body. In their place was a mix of red and black seared flesh. He had such beautiful skin, and now it looked like burnt meat. Your eyes filled with tears not for the pain that was traveling through your own body, but for what he must be feeling.

 You looked around. This vessel was between Cocytus and Inferno. You looked back over at Yoongi. "Yoongi,” you cried out. You wanted to embrace him but you weren’t sure with the condition he was in. “I can fix this. I can fix this.” You said, more to yourself than him.

 “Just leave it,” he yelled. He fell to his knees, exhausted. The injured wings folded in and he took a deep breath, willing the boat to change directions. The boat slowly turned back towards Cocytus.

 “Yoongi,” You slowly extended your hands towards his, trying desperately to start healing him.

 “LUCIFER,” You heard Yoongi bellow. “Helps us cross and I’ll take 200 years off your sentence.”

 The wind died down. You peered through the mist.  Was that a dragon? You were so confused. The creature began to cackle.

 “Not looking so smug now are we Yoongi?” The dragon tapped it’s claws against the ice block surrounding it’s torso. 

 “That’s Lord Yoongi you ungrateful bastard, now take the deal or don’t,” Yoongi cried, clutching his side in agony.

 “Make it 500 years.” The dragon snapped.

 Yoongi tried to stay standing, but his one leg gave out underneath him, causing him to kneel. 

 Lucifer bellowed. “The Lord of the Underworld kneels before me. Ahahaha. You should have accepted my help when I offered it to you.”

 Fuck. You stood up, trying hard to not rock the boat. “250 year or nothing. Now help us sail back to the Stygian Sea. Now.” 

 Lucifer laughed, “Do you give this woman the authority to speak for you, Lord Yoongi?”

 “I do,” he gritted out.

 “Very well, it is done.” He inhaled and blew his icy breath, causing the boat to abruptly change it’s speed and direction, towards the Stygian sea. Yoongi collapsed onto the bottom of the boat.   

 “Yoongi, Oh no.” You knelt down next to him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have waited and left with Hoseok. 

 "Shut up. I was an idiot." Yoongi coughed. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave.”

 “It’s fine. All I do is hurt people. I’ll go. It’s fine. Let me fix this.” Your body wracked with sobs as you placed your hands onto his chest.

 The boast slipped back into the Stygian Sea. Sensing Yoongi’s dominion, the sea gently began to push the boat back towards the estuary. 

 "I'm so sorry," you sobbed. "Holly, help me," you asked as the boat approached the gates. Holly whimpered and very gently used one of his mouths to pick up Yoongi and place him gently on the black sand. 

 You clamored out of the vessel and threw yourself down next to him. You conjured as much energy as you could. You were used to healing flowers and plants, not people; not Olympians. "Please Yoongi. I'm so sorry. Please." you placed your hands on his arm and chest where the fire had burned him. 

 His skin slowly started to return, a pale patchwork at first and then a whole canvas. You continued, feeling some of his energy mixing with yours. He was coming back. He would be ok. Energy flowed out of you, a purple glow emanated into his chest and arm. Purple leaves and vines spread out over his pale skin. In exchange, flame snapped at the energy, sending a burning sensation up into your hand. 

 "Ow," you cried out as more tears fell involuntarily. 

 Yoongi tried to push your hands off him. "If it hurts stop," he coughed. 

 "No. I love you. I have to fix this." You pushed your hands down even harder against his protests ,the flames growing up your arms. "I can fix this." you whispered more to yourself than him. You don't know how long you stayed that way, the pain changing from sharp shooting pain to a dull throb. Before long you were exhausted, the energy barely glowing. The last thing you saw before you blacked out was a pattern of purple and clack chrysanthemums on Yoongi's chest. @sugas-bbygirl  @twilight-loveer

#BTS suga #bts yoongi #bts fic #bts writing #suga bts #yoongi x reader #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga x you #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #bts suga x you #suga x y/n

[lumau]

This week has been sth else, so I apologize for a lack of editing. Before this whole story goes up on ao3, I’ll give it all another polish. I wanted to get sth sweet out there, hopefully changing the rest of this week for the better... so this has all the fluff. :)

This comes after the events at the beach, here: https://lumau.tumblr.com/post/658330266893434881/a-small-sunday-treat-interlude-ao-shun-in-skimpy

❄🖤🤍❄

Li Ming followed the king down the corridor leading to his private rooms. Ao Shun had not seemed to want to dismiss him yet, so he simply went along.

After the walk on the beach the king had shown himself brooding, and not another word was lost about the somewhat odd end of their conversation. Li Ming was still turning the thoughts over in his mind, when they reached the entrance flanked by a pair of guards. Ao Shun turned to him, as if only now noticing that he was still behind him.

“Ah, Li Ming,” he said, “I will retire early, and should not keep you. However, as you are here now, I would ask you to do my hair for the night. I am not entirely satisfied with the way Xiao has been doing it lately.”

Li Ming gave a polite bow. 

“Of course, my lord. I will speak to Xiao tomorrow.”

Li Ming graciously set down the little tray and unfolded the white towel across the king’s shoulders. He had not been entirely surprised when Ao Shun offered him another task, one that would not involve the presence of other staff. He had done his lord’s hair numerous times before, mostly when they were traveling, but the familiar movements seemed to gain a different quality to him now.

He took a deep breath and steadied his hand, when he reached out to undo the long braid, parting the strands with his fingers, loosening them with care. He looked down on Ao Shun’s back. The way he was perched on the leather and chrome ottoman he seemed suddenly small, so much more tangible and real. Of course nothing about him had changed - he was still the immortal king, the feared and beloved dragon god of legends, eternal, majestic and untouchable. The only difference was in his own perception. Those new, less and less subtle thoughts, the sudden wish to run his hands over his shoulders in front of him and the suspicion that his touch would be welcomed even. Maybe, if he offered a massage? He simply would have to reach out… 

“Li Ming.”

Li Ming felt caught, blushing at the ideas he’d just been indulging. He quickly took the intricate ebony comb from the tray and gingerly began working it through the tips of the long, black hair.

“I have been meaning to speak to you in private.” 

The low, soft tone of Ao Shun’s voice touched a part in Li Ming’s stomach and made it clench in a flutter. He focussed on combing Ao Shun’s hair, carefully, higher up. Combing it, and smoothing its soft lengths with his fingers, and combing it... If he didn’t focus on the task, he didn’t know what else he should do.

“I have been imposing my attention on you lately, acting on the attraction I feel towards you, and I presume you have become aware of it too.”

Li Ming swallowed hard. If his heart was not stuck up in his throat, making it impossible for him to bring out a word, what could he even have said to that?

Ao Shun sat completely still, looking straight ahead out of the window. Only the rise and fall of his shoulders gave a sign of his flattened breath. Somehow this little sign of agitation in the dragon king made Li Ming even more nervous. Ao Shun heaved a deep breath.

“I admit I have not done well, and my actions were not right.”

Li Ming’s hands stopped moving. Whatever he had expected, the low growl and the hint of guilt in the king's voice was not it. He stood stockstill, staring unblinkingly at the hair he was holding between his fingers.

“A man in my position needs to be aware of his influence,” Ao Shun said, solemnly, “and I have let myself get carried away, making advances on you without addressing the matter openly. You are bound by your oath to me. Naturally you would follow along with anything I ask of you. I should not have allowed myself to mingle your obligation with my personal interest.”

Unwittingly Li Ming laid the comb down and took up a crystal flask. He spread some of the mildly scented oil on his hands and once more began working them along the tips of Ao Shun’s hair in thoughtful silence. 

“Don’t you have anything to say to that?” Ao Shun spoke up again after a moment.

“My lord… I appreciate your honesty. I don’t think you have done me wrong, and you have not done anything against my will.”

Ao Shun gave a little nod, encouragingly, but Li Ming was not sure what else he could say.

“And about what else I mentioned -” Ao Shun inquired tentatively, when nothing more came from him, “About the interest I expressed in exploring a more personal contact between us…”

Li Ming continued to run his fingers through the king’s hair for a long moment. He wondered if Ao Shun could feel the slight trembling of his fingers, just like he could sense the electrified tension in his posture. He should have been prepared for this moment, after all that had happened lately. It was not out of the ordinary that royal dragons might request closer company from their subordinates. Growing up at court it was something one simply learned among other things. Yet while Li Ming had entertained the idea once or twice, and maybe slightly more often of late, none of his envisioned scenarios had involved the careful and earnest manner in which the king addressed him, or the blank space in his head where his mind should have been.

“How could I decline this from you?” he finally managed, and knew immediately that that was not the right answer. Ao Shun sharply drew in his breath and twitched his head to look over his shoulder. He frowned up at Li Ming.

“I want it to be absolutely clear that this is beyond your orders,” he growled, “If I have given you another impression, I will need to rectify it.”

Li Ming flustered. His face was starting to burn again, and he was growing desperate with himself. He had not meant it that way. Why was it suddenly so difficult to think, making it impossible for him to express himself?

“I want to know what you want, Li Ming.” 

Li Ming swallowed. The only thing he could think of to say was the truth.

“My lord, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what you want?” Ao Shun asked.

“I apologise,” Li Ming said quietly and averted his eyes, “I am afraid I feel confused right now, and that is my truthful answer.” 

Ao Shun considered him for a moment, then his expression brightened again.

“Are you willing to find it out together?” he finally asked with a smile.

Li Ming blinked a little surprised, then he nodded and smiled back. The words ‘find it out together’ echoed in his mind, leaving a warmer feeling and making him more at ease. 

Ao Shun turned his head back, and Li Ming remembered suddenly that he was still holding the lengths of his hair.

“When I ask you for something that you are uncomfortable with, can I trust you to say no to me?” Ao Shun asked, his voice soft again.

“Yes, my lord,” Li Ming replied with a smile.

“And will you also ask for what you desire from me?”

There was a longer silence after that. 

“… I can try.”

Li Ming felt much less confident at that, but for now Ao Shun seemed content with his answer.

Li Ming found that he was still smiling, as he added a few more drops of oil to his hands, almost a little light-headed. The previously anxious flutter in his stomach had turned into something warmer, friendlier now.

He rested his palms on top of Ao Shun’s head, and began moving the tips of his fingers in small circles along his hairline. A head massage was not necessarily a part of his evening routine, but from the deep sigh and the slight sagging of Ao Shun’s shoulders he could tell it was appreciated.

He slowly ran his fingers along to the back, and feeling suddenly elated after their conversation, let them trail down behind the king’s ears, drawing gentle patterns on the soft skin of his neck. This was definitely not part of the regular routine. Ao Shun gave another sigh and let himself sink back against Li Ming, dropping his head slightly back to let it rest against him. Li Ming could see the serene expression on his face, his eyes closed and his lips drawn into a contented smile. He almost regretted that he had not simply said “Yes.” to his earlier question, and wondered for a second, if he would dare to ask to kiss him now.

Then Ao Shun’s smile turned into a grin, and he sat up again, the warmth and weight of his body lingering for a few more seconds where he had leaned. 

“Please, Li Ming,” he said, “don’t raise the issue with Xiao. I’d rather you do my hair every night from now on, if I get that sort of treatment.” 

The mention of Ao Shun’s attendant brought Li Ming back into reality, and made him a little awkward at having slipped from his familiar role. He gathered Ao Shun’s hair in a loose bun on his vertex and fixed it with a hairband. He felt a small sting of regret when he was done and Ao Shun stood up. The king gave him a long look from under his lashes.

“Thank you,” he said simply, and Li Ming could tell that he only partly meant it for the hairdo. Once more he felt the sudden urge to reach out, or to say something to cross the space between them, but there was the ottoman in the middle and the lump in his throat and then Ao Shun blinked, and smiled, and Li Ming knew it meant Good Night.

Sitting in his own room an hour later, he was still too agitated to go to bed. He tried reading one of the new books on his shelf, but couldn’t bring himself to focus. Too much had happened today, and he kept replaying the events in his mind, alternating between furtive excitement and coy bliss and a bit of disappointment at what felt like a missed opportunity in the end.

When he had once more been staring at a page for an unknown amount of time, a polite knock on his door made him perk up. It was Xiao, who apologized for the late disturbance, but she had been sent by Ao Shun to call him up once more. While Li Ming had already shed his tie and loosened his collar, he had luckily not bothered to get ready for bed yet.

He found Ao Shun on his balcony, cled in his black and white silk robe and looking out over the nightly panorama. Li Ming’s heart had already begun to beat faster as he entered the apartment, but now his nerves seemed to stun him once more. How could it be that he kept finding himself lost for words so often these past days, with his extensive diplomatic training and experience? 

“My lord, you required my attendance?” he said, settling on a safe, formal approach.

When Ao Shun spoke, Li Ming could hear the smile in his voice and knew it was not an official call after all.

“The sky is so full of stars tonight. I thought you might appreciate it as well.”

He turned away from the railing to look at Li Ming unblinkingly, long enough to make him feel self-conscious.

“And I thought you would look beautiful in the light of the moon. I was right.”

Li Ming felt ice and heat rush through his veins again. He distantly heard himself stammer, “Thank you, my lord, it really is a beautiful night.” He was certain that his face must have gone deep red, and hoped it wouldn’t be too visible in the bespoke moonlight.

A slightly crooked smile curled Ao Shun’s lips, as he approached him.

“Allow me to be frank, Li Ming.” 

His voice was low and soft, humming with a deep tremor underneath it. 

“I could not get you out of my head. And I wanted to kiss you.”

The words hung between them in the air for a few long seconds. Li Ming’s heart was racing. When Ao Shun held out his hand to him, he automatically took it. There was comfort in the warmth of his touch and the slight shiver he could feel in the grasp. It gave away the king’s inner tension, while his expression remained one of calm confidence.

“You have not declined or turned away yet. I take that as a positive sign?”

Ao Shun took another step closer, until they were almost touching. Li Ming could sense the familiar energy he always radiated, felt the air between them prickle with electricity. He could see his dark eyes gleaming in the low light. He had never seen them so close up. He wanted to lose himself in their depth, but Ao Shun was watching him expectantly. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Ao Shun pursed his lips into a smirk and tilted his head.

Li Ming swallowed and muttered, “Yes, please.”

It had to be his voice, as the words came from his mouth, but he did not recognise its tone. The soft smile was back on Ao Shun’s face, and when he leaned in and their lips met, Li Ming stopped thinking altogether.

As Li Ming opened the door to his private rooms, he still couldn’t stop smiling. He did not know how much time had passed, but the moon was high now and shone in through the windows.

A part of him had wondered if (and maybe even hoped that) Ao Shun would extend his invitation even further. But he had said that he wanted to kiss him, and that was what he had done. And then they kissed again, and again, and some more when Ao Shun had walked him to the door. And they had both smiled widely, and Ao Shun had thanked him before wishing him a good night.

Li Ming felt giddy and drowsy, as if walking through a dream all the way back. He was vaguely aware of a different part of his brain that would in some distant future start nagging him about all the potential trouble he was getting himself into. But for now, the only thing he could think of were the sensations of those kisses he could still feel on his lips.

#the invisible library #froststorm #vintage arc #li ming #ao shun #fluff

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH3

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 3: Resurrection Overture (III)

Qi Leren stood in front of the door that had once made him beyond salvation.

After the huge stone door, Maria’s sword was held high and the black dragon was crucified. Seven days ago, there was a former friend sitting on the throne that belonged to the Pope, smiling at him.

Now that I think about it, I still feel like I had a nightmare.

Worried that there was some unknown danger inside, Qi Leren removed "Devil Etiquette", changed it to the perception skill "Rain-Day Clothing", put his hand on the stone door, and pushed it gently. The stone door opened almost automatically before his eyes.

Maria and the black dragon were still there, but the metal sword in Maria’s hands had ceased to exist. Qi Leren's eyes fell to the blood on the ground, and the dragged blood seemed to bring back the scene before his death.

He took a step and wanted to go there, but the first step made this dead and broken church glow with incredible changes—

The statue of Maria exuded bright light, and countless cracks spread from its head. Qi Leren stared at this horrible scene and the cracks became more and more dense, spreading from Maria to the immortal body of the black dragon. The two statues with a height of more than ten meters were destroyed in an instant by time, turning into countless fragments and dust that poured down, rushing to the earth like waterfalls!

The entire site of the Vatican collapsed in a frantic tremor.

During this collapse, Qi Leren, who had been knocked down by the shock wave, looked towards the Maria.

Maria's phantom stood there, holding an object that seemed to be a scepter in both hands and coming towards him.

The ground shook so much that Qi Leren couldn't stand up at all, but Maria's phantom came to him as if on flat ground and handed the thing in her hand to him: "Please, bring this to the Prophet, you must give it to him personally."

"Who is the Prophet? Where is he?" Qi Leren asked, confused.

"He is in the judge’s seat of the Twilight Township. If you meet Ning Zhou, don't let Ning Zhou touch this thing and don't let him see it," Maria said.

Qi Leren looked down at what Maria gave him and held out his hand. The name of this item was [Scepter of Hell], which was made of metal, heavy and dangerous. There was a huge groove at the top of the scepter and the gem originally embedded in it had disappeared, leaving only this metal scepter with evil power. This was an extremely powerful and fearful demon item, which can even pollute the power of faith.

"I understand, I will give it to the Prophet." Qi Leren understood that the matter was important, so he put away this scepter and solemnly agreed.

"Thank you." Maria smiled, leaned over Qi Leren, and left a gentle kiss on his forehead.

The gentle kiss was like the blessing of God. Countless golden and silvery spots spread from Maria and she began to become blurred. However, these spots rushed into Qi Leren's body and he suddenly felt himself immersed as if in a hot spring. The warm energy soothed his stiff and tired body, injecting vitality and vigor into him again.

Indulged in this comfortable power, Qi Leren forgot where he was until an angry roar came from above: "How dare you! Maria! Again and again you have... I will not let you go!"

The Witch of Desperation, who found the body of the Devastator destroyed, roared. Storm clouds condensed with thunder and lightning and the terrible demon energy brewed the power of death. Countless bats came at them!

Maria nodded to Qi Leren languidly: "Good boy, go, remember my words."

Saying this, a bright white light rose from Qi Leren's feet, pierced through the dark clouds in the sky, and wrapped around Qi Leren to fly him towards the distant land of dusk.

In this dazzling silvery white light, Qi Leren felt his body float uncontrollably just like in the dream before, rising higher and higher, and the white world was full of magnificent and majestic vitality, solemn and quiet. Wrapped in the holy light, he flew in the sky like a gliding bird, moving forward in a pure white.

Suddenly an ethereal music sounded ahead. Qi Leren woke up from his dreamy state and looked in the direction of the music.

Countless little angels with flowers and musical instruments in their hands flew out of a magnificent gate, joyfully spreading petals and playing graceful music. That gate seemed to be the door to Eden. From the open gate, he could see a garden full of flowers. Angels holding musical instruments were playing the piano and singing songs by the fountain, singing praises to Father God.

A petite young female angel came out of the garden and her feet lightly landed on the clouds, smiling at Qi Leren.

Qi Leren tried to see her face clearly, but she seemed to be a light-year away from him.

"I am the Prophet," she said. "Give it to me."

Qi Leren's eyes were empty and that person's voice seemed to be God's will, which made him want to obey her orders involuntarily.

Give the Scepter of Hell to the Prophet, and she is the Prophet... This was firmly rooted in his mind.

Qi Leren took the Scepter of Hell in his hand without thinking.

[Rain-Day Laundry: At present, the remaining sensing times are 2/3.]

Qi Leren suddenly woke up. How could he believe that this unknown person was the Prophet?! This brainwashing power was simply terrible! He almost handed over this thing!

"Hmm?" The angel on the other side let out a confused hum as the projection of an archangel emerged behind Qi Leren, holding a rapier to cut the heavenly gate.

In a blaze of holy light, the world was silently torn apart and all the dreamy things in front of him disappeared in an instant.

Under the curious gaze of hundreds of millions of human beings and demons, this white holy light that shone in an arc across the sky paused for a moment in a cloud of black mist, then pierced the darkness and continued to fly towards the Village of Dusk on the eastern coast.

In the garden of Dawn.

"An unexpected miss. It’s not enough to use the avatar projection in front of him, I was too hasty," the petite woman sighed.

"You can't stop using the field’s power. After all, it’s the last of the Holy Nun’s power," the man taking a slow sip of wine said lightly.

"But to use ‘Utopia’, it will be weakened after being pierced by that holy light, it’ll do more harm than good. Forget it. Anyway, I already know that thing’s whereabouts, I’ll just ask others to keep it for the time being," the woman said and smiled again. "But that child you like is quite vigilant."

The red wine in the goblet was swirled gently, its thick red color like blood.

"People with secrets will always be more vigilant. I really wonder how many secrets he still hides."

The Village of Dusk on the east coast was shrouded in the afterglow of sunset all year round.

On the long coastline, Chen Baiqi was smoking on the seawall and her sister Sissi was catching crabs. Suddenly, she found a shiny stone. She screamed with surprise and took the stone to Chen Baiqi: "This is beautiful, I want to show it to Xiaozhi!"

Chen Baiqi glanced at the stone, but it was only a rare sea stone. She rubbed her sister's hair: "Okay."

"But I haven't seen Xiaozhi for a long time." Sissi was worried about her little friend. "Is it the Prophet who won't let him out?"

"Maybe," Chen Baiqi replied absently, full of melancholy. "We’ll go home in ten minutes and go to the Undead Island in the afternoon."

Sissi cocked her head and suddenly realized: "Is it Qi Leren’s seventh day?"

Chen Baiqi responded gently and let out a sigh.

The little girl who didn't know her sister's worries kicked the sand under her feet and muttered, "Why did he die?"

"People will always die," Chen Baiqi said lightly.

Sissi felt her sister's heavy heart and took her arm obediently. She was well protected by Chen Baiqi, but that didn't mean she didn't know anything. She had met many of Chen Baiqi's customers. Those young men and women came to her store to buy what they needed. Some of them came very often while others came rarely, but gradually these people disappeared.

Those who had disappeared had never returned again. There would always be new faces coming and disappearing like those people.

Sissi remembered that when she was a little girl, a beautiful little sister always brought her delicious candy which was wrapped in colorful cellophane, and each one was sweet. She loved the candy brought by that little sister. Every time, she had collected these beautiful candy wrappers and put them in a small tin box until she had saved a whole box.

Then one day, when she saw the tin box, she suddenly remembered that she had not seen the little sister for a long time. She asked Chen Baiqi several times, and Chen Baiqi was silent for a long time, saying that she would help her find out.

She happily went back to her room, folded a string of paper cranes with those cellophanes, and prepared to give it to the little sister.

But in the end, she could only give the folded paper cranes to her tombstone.

On the Undead Island, which was just outside the Village of Dusk, the warm sunlight had illuminated her tombstone with her name on it and the days she had lived. There were only two simple lines that summarized a person's short life.

She had felt that she wasn’t very sad, but at the thought that she would never eat that delicious candy again, she had burst into tears.

Later, she learned where to buy this delicious candy that tasted sweet, but it wasn't from that little sister, so she didn't like it anymore.

She thought that, in fact, she didn't like that kind of candy very much, she just missed the little sister.

It was a carefree little girl who taught her the meaning of death for the first time.

"Jiejie*, you seem to have liked him very much?" Sissi asked.

*{E/N: “older sister”}

Chen Baiqi smoked a cigarette and the smoke blew away in the sea breeze: "Because a friend of mine likes him very much."

"How much did you like him?" Siss smiled and asked, "Does jiejie like me so much?"

Chen Baiqi looked at her sister's innocent face, smiled, and kissed her face: "Maybe I liked him more than jiejie likes you."

Sissi gave a "wow": "You must’ve liked him very much."

However, Sissi was a little sad again: "How sad will your friend be now that he’s dead?"

Chen Baiqi could not speak and her hand holding the cigarette was shaking. There was a little bit of sweet pain in the sour despair; even if it was just a bystander like her, she was almost suffocating.

She wouldn't be able to forget for the rest of her life. On that rainy day, Ning Zhou, who had gone to the Holy City with Qi Leren, suddenly returned to the Village of Dusk and knocked on her door. She was puzzled, but was shocked by Ning Zhou's calm dead eyes. Ning Zhou had braved the heavy rain and told her what had happened. Then, despite her dissuasion, he resolutely went to Neverland. He didn't even know whether he could survive the torture of the spiritual enchanment, or if it would leave him sleeping in the cold tundra forever.

Fortunately, Ning Zhou's tombstone had yet to appear on the Undead Island. It seemed that he had successfully arrived at his soul’s former hometown, bid farewell to it, and went to a world full of thorns and sufferings.

Thinking this, she suddenly heard Sissi let out a loud scream. Chen Baiqi raised her head and looked at the sky in astonishment—in the far west, there was a bright light streaking across the sky, magnificent, holy, and unparalleled, and all the places it passed were the projections of heaven. It stopped over the Village of Dusk and turned into a vertical beam of light.

A huge projection of an archangel appeared in the void, behind which countless wings danced slowly in the setting sun, almost covering the sunset. The wings were dying, like a white rain, and the projection of the archangel was getting weaker and weaker. He put his hands on his chest, bowed toward the distance, and disappeared into the golden red sunset.

Sissi was stunned. After being shocked, Chen Baiqi’s mind suddenly raised countless thoughts: Which of the Holy See's field-level masters had come to Dusk? The place of arrival also happened to be in the spot where the Prophet had landed at dusk... No, it should be just residual energy. If it was really a field-level master, they would not reveal such a big movement at all. And the Court’s enchantment has not been alarmed... Who was it?

"Sissi, go home, I'll check it out and I'll be right back," Chen Baiqi said, and inserted a card into her card slot. A projected book turned to a certain page in her hand. A white unicorn appeared beside her and she turned around to mount the horse. The winged unicorn flew in the air to the place where the projection of the archangel had landed.

She arrived at her destination in less than half a minute due to the short distance. On the rolling sea waves of the beach, a confused figure was looking in all directions at a loss. Seeing Chen Baiqi approach, he waved at her in surprise and ran quickly to her.

Chen Baiqi's cigarette butt fell to the ground, and shock and joy were intertwined. She couldn't wait to express her incredible mood with 10,000 swear words: "Shit Qi Leren, aren't you fucking dead?!”

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

[cherrywoes]

AAAA YES- I have been waiting for this opportunity haha! May I ask for just a soft moment between the reader and (now known as) Shion? I’m absolutely enamoured by their relationship and I just want to see the two maybe cuddle a bit and act disgustingly domestic. I wouldn’t mind either headcanons of how they generally act around each other maybe even a small story of maybe 2k ish words? Whatever you’re comfortable with!

Tbh I’m just looking forward to learn more about Shion and his mannerisms TT I hope you have a wonderful day and take care!

a/n: haha i was waiting on this to show up! <3 i did both the small story and the headcanons (at the end) so i hope you enjoy! this ended up around 3k so i’m pretty happy with the result. you have a wonderful day as well! for those of you who don’t know who ama-no-kagaseo/shion is, he’s an oc from my jjk fic dark sun. 

of custard buns, apples, and mandarin oranges.

— ama-no-kagaseo (shion) + reader.

It was a quiet day for you today. There were no assassins, no awful weather to rain on your parade (quite literally, might you add), and, somehow, Sayaka would not be at your side today. Something about a first grade Curse had pulled her away for the day, sending her to the countryside—a place not known for its Curses—for the time being. You weren’t sure why Gojou couldn’t do it, since he was perfectly capable of going himself, but you weren’t going to ignore the chance that this brought you.

You were going to make pastries.

“Pastries?” Ama-no-Kagaseo (Shion, now, you needed to remember) materialized at your side, so close that he was practically leaning on you. He was oddly more in tune with your thoughts than usual after you’d given him that name, or something had changed—more specifically, his attention revolved around you more than anything else now. While that malevolent nature still crept out at times—never to you, but to nearly everyone else on the campus—it was subdued, and he appeared almost docile though you knew that was far from the truth. “I’ve never seen you make them before.”

His innocent curiosity of everything you did was endearing, to say the least. Having never taken interest in human pursuits before, he was set on learning everything you did even if he had no true want to learn it in the first place. He learned it because, through that activity, whatever it may be, he was closer to you, and therefore, in his mind, any time spent being close to you was precious time to him. Being a god and immortal, time that was considered anything other than ‘boring’ was important to him, however, most of it being linked back to you could be a very deadly double-edged sword… for other people, perhaps.

With a smile, you shook your head and held up an index card with the recipe for coconut custard buns. It was one of your favorites, something Sayaka had always bought for you when you were younger and had a notorious sweet tooth, and you’d been craving it recently. But without any way to contact her while she was off on a mission, you were left with only one other option: to make them yourself. You’d discovered the recipe (admittedly, you’d been snooping at first) in a magazine that had belonged to Gojou at some point. It had been left in the common rooms and, well, you considered it free game if he had just left it there when he was done with it.

“That’s because I haven’t,” you replied with a small laugh. You could feel his question burning into the side of your face without even having to look over at him. If you did, you would see a slightly pleading expression on his face, followed by the faint bunching of his brows because Amatsumikaboshi did. Not. Plead. But for you, he most likely would and that was all that mattered. “Yes, you can help me make them, Shion.”

He lit up like a light at the sound of his name. You’d been struggling to remember to call him that and not Ama-no-Kagaseo or Amatsumikaboshi, having done so for years beforehand, so breaking a habit like that was difficult for you. There was a set preconception to those names; all the higher ups saw him as was the malevolent, admittedly vicious god who would see them all destroyed if he had his way, but this was not ‘Amatsumikaboshi’—at least not to you. You’d seen several sides of him in the past few years, but this one—excited, happy even—was the one you liked the most, even if you were fond of both aspects of his godhood.

In his adult and personal form, he looked almost like a giant, overeager puppy—dragon, you thought, at a second glance, peering at the horns poking out over strands of white hair—at the idea of helping you cook. Which, to most people, might be bizarre in and of itself; what god would lower himself to cooking?

“What do they taste like?” He inquired, further leaning on you to the point where he was about to push you over. He wanted a glimpse of the index card, you thought, but then he rested his head on your shoulder instead. He was careful to avoid poking you with his horns and had his head situated at an odd angle that looked uncomfortable. “[Name]?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, pressing your mouth to the top of his head in a mockery of a kiss. He did this to you all the time, and now you understood why: it was extremely intimate, very close and comforting. He always smelled like an interesting mix of the ocean, some tropical flower that you had no name for, and almond oolong tea. It never changed, even when he was in a different form, oddly enough. You didn’t mind it. It was a very sweet, pleasing scent. “Oh, they taste like… custard and tangzhou bread, but I guess you wouldn’t know what that tastes like. You can try it and see if you like it, since you will be helping me.”

“Can we make them now?” He asked, shifting so he was looking up at the underside of your jaw and eyelashes. “I’m curious.”

“Of course.” You smiled and gently pushed a few strands away from his eyes so you could see them better. He’d always had pretty eyes, you’d thought, that seemed to shine with more knowledge than you could ever fathom. Now, though, they were focused on you, those slit pupils wide enough that you could see your reflection in them. As an afterthought, you leaned down and kissed his forehead, much in the same way he did to you when he thought you were napping. When you pulled away, you watched a pale blush creep up his neck and ears, which was just adorable. “But first, we need to make you blend in a bit.”

Confusion rolled across his face like a thundercloud. He stood and helped you to your feet when you struggled to get your legs out from under yourself, numb from sitting so long, and held your weight for a few moments while you waited for the blood to flow back into your legs. “Blend in?”

“Mhm.” You touched his horns and then pointed to his kimono. “I don’t think there’s anyone here right now, but in case someone comes in you’ll look like you’re just a sorcerer. If someone found out you could separate yourself from me like this, they’d report it to the higher ups and I’d be put back in confinement again.”

“No,” Shion said, and at first you thought it was to making him blend in. The scowl that appeared on his face was lethal. “I’ll kill them first.”

With a light laugh, you rose to your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was almost like watching magic, the way his scowl turned into a pleased little smile. “You can’t kill everyone who finds out about you. Then they’ll get suspicious and know it was you.”

“You’re right,” he acknowledged, after a moment, leaning just a bit closer to you. “How will I ‘blend in’, so to speak.”

“Well…” You looked up at his horns, then his hair—which wasn’t all that strange, Gojou had white hair and Itadori had pink hair—and afterwards, his yukata. He could easily be mistaken as a member of one of the three clans and you could say he was replacing Sayaka for the day. You reached up and fingered his horns, surprised at how sharp the individual points were; they were almost like a deer’s horns. “Can you make these go aw—”

And just like that, they were gone, leaving you touching nothing but air.

“Right,” you mumbled, lowering your hand to pick up the astronomically long lengths of hair running down his back. It ended right at his hips, so you could, theoretically, just tie it into a bun and leave it like that. You’d seen plenty of Zen’in men wear their hair like that. “Okay, sit over here.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed and patted the floor with your foot. You retrieved your brush from the nightstand and waited until he was settled, then picked up a strand of hair and started brushing from the bottom to the roots. While they weren’t tangled, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of pain—could he even feel pain?—and gently ran the brush through his hair. He made no complaint and allowed you to continue sectioning off parts of his head, and obediently let you tilt his head this way and that so you could get the areas hanging over his shoulder.

When you were finished brushing it and making sure there weren’t any knots, you set down the brush and began combing his hair back with your fingers. He went entirely limp against your legs, a deep, rolling purr echoing from somewhere in his chest although you could feel it echoing in your shins. You’d heard him purr like that a few times before, usually when he was sitting in the sun of your window like a particularly lazy cat, but this was the first time he’d done it because of something you did. And it was unusually loud, as well, and you had to wonder if it was because he was starting to drift off.

You gathered the rest of his hair up, brushed out the parts that stuck out, and tied it off with a piece of twine you’d had lying around. You didn’t think he would appreciate wearing a sparkly blue ponytail—actually, he more than likely wouldn’t mind matching you. An idea for another day, then.

“Alright,” you said, resting your hands on his shoulders. The purring stopped and he stretched, lifting his arms above his head and popping almost every single bone in his back until he was done. Then he relaxed, head in your lap, and stared up at you. “What?”

Shion continued staring, golden eyes flicking over your face contemplatively. “You’re the most beautiful human in existence to me.”

Oh. You could just feel the blood rushing up to your face, hot and tingly. You stared down at him, mouth falling open in useless stutters, then closed your mouth and pressed your hands to your face. “I… Um…”

“You don’t need to say anything.” He reached up and gently nudged your arm out of the way so he could rest the pads of his fingers against your heart. “I can feel everything you do.”

You were hesitant to lower your hands, but at an encouraging pulse sent through your connection, you dropped them to your lap and cradled his face in your hands. It was moments like these where you had to wonder if Shion knew everything or what you only made obvious. He never said anything, if he did, so you supposed he kept to himself so you could say what you wanted to and nothing else.

The both of you stayed like that for a few moments, caught in an interesting limbo, until you remembered the whole point of making him look somewhat human in the first place.

“Alright,” you sighed, sufficiently calmed down enough that you could make sense of your words again. You patted his cheek softly in a gesture for him to get up. “Let’s go make those custard pastries, hm?”

The college kitchen was nothing to scoff at, but it was also everything you’d never had before. You had cooked before, of course, but not with anything super high tech. Luckily it was easy enough to figure out how to work the oven and you gathered the ingredients from the cupboards, setting them all down on a counter, and got to work.

Shion (even wearing an apron) helped you through every step, although you left the kneading and stirring to him since he was the god and you, decidedly, were not. He was happy to do whatever you asked of him and it was funny watching him get irritated with the ball of dough when you said it needed to rest before you could stuff it and cook it.

While you waited thirty some minutes for the dough to sit and rise, you retrieved a small bowl of fruit you had cut while watching him labor over the dough. It was mostly apples and mandarin oranges, both some of your favorites. You didn’t want to get your hands sticky so you used chopsticks to eat them, and offered an apple slice to Shion when he sent a curious glance at the bowl. He stared at it for a moment and then leaned down to take a hesitant bite of it, pulling away so you couldn’t make him eat the rest if he didn’t like it. You popped the rest in your mouth and watched his face for any sign that he didn’t like it, but when he finished chewing he nodded his head and gestured for you to give him another.

You spent the next thirty minutes like this, eating apples and oranges and offering some to Shion whenever he indicated he wanted another. He spent a lot of time savoring the flavors while you just ate one and immediately ate another, which you assumed came down to him never eating human food before.

When the dough finished rising, it took you no time to fill them and pop them in the oven with Shion’s help. With thirty five minutes more to wait, you sat down in a chair and Shion followed, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Shion?” You asked, inching your head back to mimic the pose he had been in earlier. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He looked amused that you had to ask. “What is it?”

“Why do you always want me to wear kimonos?” You inquired. You’d always assumed it was to signify that you were his vessel in the most obvious way possible, but you’d also never asked him. You’d just assumed. “These ones specifically.”

“Ah.” He nodded and his eyebrows furrowed deeply in thought. “Before I was cast aside as a failed product, my mother—Izanami, as I’m sure you know—made a set of kimonos specifically for the one I would choose as a partner one day. She did this for all of my siblings, I believe. The originals are lost to time, so I made these in their fashion.”

“Oh.” You touched the hem of your kimono thoughtfully. “And these—they don’t remind you of your mother?”

“No.” Shion rested his chin on your head with a pleased sigh. “You wear them, therefore they remind me of you.”

And you had to say you didn’t mind that.

The custard buns were done after twenty minutes or so, so you parted from Shion and pulled them out of the oven to let them cool. Or, at least, that was your intention; Shion, foolishly or stupidly, you didn’t know, picked one up with his bare hand and you had to watch in disbelief as he took a bite of nearly scalding hot bread and custard and said ‘It’s good’.

“Shion!” You exclaimed, watching his eyes dart over to you over the custard bun in his hand. “That’s hot! You can’t just eat it like that—”

“Why not?” He interrupted, taking another bite as if just to spite you. “It’s not too hot.”

“For you, maybe,” you sighed, watching with envy as he polished off the rest of his bun in one go. “I have to wait for them to cool.”

He seemed to realize, belatedly, what he had done—or he felt your envy, at any rate—and frowned. He approached you and swept you into his arms, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head affectionately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

You exhaled through your nose and rubbed his back soothingly, indicating you weren’t mad at him. “It’s okay, Shion. Here, help me clean up while I wait for them to cool off and consider it forgotten.”

He nodded eagerly and, in the span of about two seconds, proceeded to use his curse energy to sweep everything back into the cupboards they had come from. You watched, dumbfounded, as the doors unlatched and opened to allow flour, sugar, and yeast to return inside and slam closed once he was done.

“That’s one way to do it,” you laughed and began packing the rest of the custard buns into a small box, holding your hand out for Shion to take. He took it willingly, falling in step beside you and following you back to your dorm room. “Did you like the custard or was it too sweet?”

“Mm…” Shion watched as you kicked off your shoes and opened the door to your room. “It was good. I preferred the fruit more.”

“I’m guessing you like natural sweets, then,” you guessed, opening the box. They were now pleasantly warm and not too hot for you, unlike Shion, so you took a bite and nodded in satisfaction. They tasted just like your memories, if not a little sweeter but you didn’t mind it. It wasn’t going to be a perfect imitation, after all. You finished your bun and closed the box so no more heat would escape and laid on your bed, careful not to allow Shion’s human body to flop to the side in his sling. You’d almost forgotten it was there, you’d been so occupied with him for the day, and you wondered how he felt about it.

“It’s an irritant,” he answered, following your thoughts. He joined you and snuggled up to your free side, your arm instinctively coming up to lower your hand to his cheek. Shion slung one arm across your stomach, just under the sling, and pulled you closer, intent on getting comfortable even at your expense. “That body keeps you prisoner to it, and I am not even within it—just linked to it.”

“You’re not in it?” You repeated, turning your head to look at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Those Sukuna cultists ruined the ritual,” he replied nonchalantly. “Not that these people here know that. So you don’t have to hold it all the time; there are no repercussions unlike if they had actually completed it properly.”

“So…” You allowed a hand to come up and touch his human form delicately. “I could let your body lay next to me and I wouldn’t have to worry?”

“No.”

So you unhooked the sling from your shoulders, free of the weight for the first time in years, and held your breath as his human body rested next to you. Shion reached over you and tugged a blanket up and over you, his human body, and himself, finally comfortable.

“I wonder…” You stroked Shion’s cheek in thought, staring up at the ceiling while he drifted off, that interesting purr kicking up against your side. “Hmm.”

With a cursory glance at his human body, still deathly still as it always was, you turned your back to it and snuggled up to Shion, nudging your head under his chin and settling in for a nap.

Like all the times you had slept with him near, you felt, of course, at peace.

headcanons:

shion and the reader are very close--and i mean very, very close, to the point where they freely share affection and (as indicated) their food. they are also very comfortable with each other as well, more than with anyone else in their lives.

shion’s natural curiosity extends to the reader and only the reader. so anything she does, he will most likely either a) want to participate or b) ask her about what she’s doing and if she likes it or not.

shion actually has a very bad habit of listening in on the reader’s thoughts and feelings even if she isn’t aware of it, which usually gives him a head’s up on her emotional state. while the reader doesn’t listen to his out of respect, she sometimes takes a peek, unaware that he does notice when she does.

shion’s purring comes from the fact that he does have a dragonic form. he does this when he’s at ease, or happy, both of which are shown in this drabble. it translates into his human form through an extra set of vocal chords.

the reader is shion’s favorite anything, and as such, he’s protective of her—perhaps too protective. shion is still a malevolent god and he still has those tendencies to become violent, and while he will never become violent with the reader (he doesn’t have the heart to even shout at her) that does not go for anyone else who is in her general vicinity.

shion has a little habit where he’ll instinctively want to be touching the reader, almost like a particularly clingy cat. sometimes he won’t, but most of the time he most absolutely will.

because of his origins as a formless god, he’s touch starved, which might not mean much because he’s a god, right? he had no affection from his mother and father, izanami and izanagi, so he knows nothing about love and affection, so when he gets it from the reader, he feels like he belongs, and thus, has no qualms about doing whatever is necessary to keep her safe.

shion doesn’t actually understand the emotions he feels. like referenced in the chapters, his emotional understanding is around that of a toddler’s—he knows what it is, can feel it, but he doesn’t understand the deeper meaning to them. he just knows they are there and acknowledges that they are caused by the reader. his logical understanding, however, is that of a god’s, and so he makes logical equations of his emotions instead, which can be quite the double edged sword.

shion is an intj-t.

shion can’t really taste anything synthetic, so he was lying when he said the custard was good so he wouldn’t hurt the reader’s feelings. :’)

that gif at the top perfectly represents shion’s reaction to being offered an apple slice. 

requests are: open. 

#jujutsu kaisen #dark sun #oc x reader

[sayonaramidnight]

Not much time passed since their joint exploration of Tam-Tara Deepcroft, but to Arianna it felt like eternity. And like a moment, at the same time. Too long. Too short. Perhaps time was playing tricks on her, or perhaps it was all in her head.

Watching her sister make miracles with that grimoire of hers was indeed astonishing - through her time away from Eorzea, Seawalker had turned into an actual adventurer who could predict her opponents' moves and always be one step ahead of them. Good for her, sure. But everything that had happened later... Arianna only heard stories. Rumours about the Lord of the Inferno risen from the flames to answer the prayers of his worshippers. She had not been there, not seen the woman called Helvi Seawalker slay the alleged god of Amal'jaa, so when they had reunited, all she could do was look closely at the new godslayer in search for any proof. Any sign. Any change.

She had found no such thing.

Except... When asked about adventuring, Seawalker had given her a confused look. "There are more than one way to make people's lives better," she'd said, "Why should I stick to one, if I can do more?"

On what 'more' was, she had not elaborated.

-

Today, though, was almost like old times. The two spent a lovely morning at the household of Swiftfingers' parents, exchanging gossip over the plate of almond cream delicious croissants - albeit Master Zezemuchi's tale about Arianna's involvement with the Sunsilk Tapestries might have been a tad embellished. And even though the third sister wasn't there anymore, in a way she still was - in spirit and fond memories - so the Thanalan Tinies could reunite one more time...

And somewhere along the way from the Steps of Nald to the Sapphire Avenue, it got so easy to believe Seawalker had never left. She stormed the market, ransacking the jewellery and metallurgy stalls for high quality materials and chatting with the merchants about the craftwork she had seen overseas. It was fun - and relieving - to see her that happy and giddy about her old trade.

It was no fun, though, to see her go completely broke.

"You know, it wouldn't do you any harm if you haggled a little," Arianna shook her head, "Those people ain't dependent solely on you and won't get famished if you don't overpay them".

But the Roegadyn didn't take her words to heart, deeply convinced the merchants of Ul'dah deserve all her gil. She approached Arianna with a wide grin and a different earring in each hand. "Truly, you are an Immortal Flame," she said fondly, "Bright. Undying. We need to think of a fine set of jewellery that would fit your uniform".

"We need, you say as if you're going to consider my opinion," the Duskwight snorted, "Good to see you back in your element, though. Now that you've rejoined the Goldsmiths' Guild, are you planning to stay in Ul'dah? Or go back to Mist, so your aunt can keep her eyes on you?"

"Neither my aunt, nor the glorious sea can keep me far from my Rinoire and the memories of Zezelyn," her sister laughed and spread her arms, as if she wanted to embrace the whole city, "Not that I haven't got any other options since the Grand Companies invited me to join them, so if I ever change my mind, I-"

Right. That was the other thing Arianna heard about recently. Not a rumour, but a true story confirmed by General Aldynn himself. If it wasn't for the reverence she had for him, he would have been given a piece of her mind and not in a kind way.

"Bloody hells, Seawalker, don't tell me you're considering it. You're no soldier." There was no ill will in these words, just the truth - not because she lacked the required skills, but because she did things in her own pace, which did not go well with taking orders. Not to mention her calling was making things, rather than killing people.

"I know, I know. Which is why I kindly told them to sod off".

"No, you didn't".

"No, I didn't. I gave them my thanks and expressed my concern it would spread discord between them," Seawalker kept smiling playfully, as she continued investigating the jewels and metals in a truly scientific manner.

"Nice try, but they ain't gonna stop asking," Arianna followed her, still concerned, "Unless the Scions claim exclusive rights for you".

"They haven't yet, but it is another good reason to stay in Ul'dah. In case they're in need of me, I won't be far".

"In need of you to do what?" the lancer clenched her fists, ready to defend her sister from the selfsame people who had sent her after Ifrit, "Craft a set of rings or slay another god?"

"Gods cannot be slain so easily. Not for good," the Roegadyn shrugged, giving a vibe of someone who knows everything about the topic, "And we- they suspect that other beast tribes might follow, that someone's been steering them from the shadow-"

"Rhalgr take them and all their suspicions," Arianna could not help but growl, already fed up with this conversation and unable to argue with that consummate do-gooder, "Why did it have to be you?!"

"And why did you stand at Carteneau?"

One question, one simple question made Arianna stifle a gasp. "That wasn't- That-" she stumbled and gritted her teeth. That was just another war, she was meaning to say, with no supernatural factors involved. But she could not utter a lie. There was Dalamud, after all. There was that bloody primal dragon.

Still, she could not contain a surge of anger. Who were they - those Scions or Archons, or whatever they called themselves - to bug her sister about problems too big for her and order her around? What if they were the ones who would turn her into a soldier? And right after her return to Eorzea, before she could even settle down?

"The thing is, I had a choice," she said finally and that was it, that was the whole point of her concern, "Did you?"

"How could I choose to turn my back on them?" the Roegadyn cried out, her voice both sad and irritated. Perhaps mostly sad. "Rinoire, you should see what a primal can do to people - not only to their worshippers, but to anyone around. Those people are... changed. Their minds, twisted forever... There's no way to reverse it, but there's a way to resist it I'm capable of".

"And you ain't the only one, right? Are they looking for more 'venturers with the sixth sense like yours? Or will they just- I don't know, turn you into a one-woman army and say that's enough?!"

The look Seawalker gave her was rueful but determined. The look of someone who cannot stand being useless and tries desperately to change it. As if she didn't know how much good she can to for the world without throwing herself into fight.

She leaned to whisper into Arianna's ear. "Let me tell you a secret," her voice was soft and gentle, easy to soothe anyone's anger. Perhaps even tame a primal.

But it could not fool Flame Sergeant Noirterel, who knew that precious, incorrigible woman all too well. "Oh yeah? Shoot".

"The stall behind you has some fine Nagxian silk".

"WHAT?!" Every concerned thought vanished from the Duskwight's head in an instant, when she turned around and rushed up to the stall in question, to get all the silk she could afford at the moment. On behalf of the Weavers' Guild, obviously; she would not buy any fabrics without showing them the bill.

-

"That- that wasn't fair," she said after what felt like a year, glaring at one overjoyed goldsmith, who was carrying two large bags of some suspicious stuff that might have been meant for crafting. She laughed triumphantly and said nothing.

"What are all those materials for? Got that many commissions already?" Arianna asked, intent on giving up on the previous conversation. That was not a topic for a shopping day, not when it could be deflected and forgotten way too easily.

"No, no, don't worry, no one's commissioned me yet," Seawalker said absent-mindedly, "With these, I'm going to craft fine gifts. A magic staff, maybe. A set of knuckles. Goggles that don't cover half of one's pretty face," she went on, completely preoccupied, "Perhaps a gemmed paperweight for Minfilia..."

Ah, those people again. Lovely. Perhaps she did not get along with them as well as she tried to show, if she wanted to bribe them with gifts.

"Finding the right design for Y'shtola is going to be the hardest task," she heaved a somewhat exaggerated sigh, "Something that complements her beauty and doesn't look too showy..."

Arianna sighed too, utterly defeated. "Just pick whatever and set it in a ring. It won't distract you from her face if it's on her finger."

"So it would seem like a bonding proposal? Perish the thought, I would not dare!" Seawalker shook her head, rocking back and forth on heels, "But you, dear sister! Jewellery for you will be no problem, as soon as I get the perfect gemstones I've got in mind!"

"If you say pink tourmalines, I swear I'll-"

"What? Why would I?" this time Seawalker seemed genuinely confused, "I was thinking star sapphires or maybe diamonds."

"The less expensive one. Or else you'll be broke in no time."

The Roegadyn pouted, clearly discontented with the companionship of an ignoramus who does not understand true art. However, her mood changed in a blink, when a new thought popped into her scattered mind.

"It sure would be nice to find some eyes of lightning, though," she flashed an impish grin, "They look almost pink in the right light, so if you wish-"

"No!"

#FFXIV #thanalan tinies #just felt like posting it here

[lloydskywalkers]

call the police and the fireman

I have zero explanation for this except that during the rare occasion of me working on my original novel, it occurred to me that out of all the dragon characteristics Lloyd could have, I’ve been short-changing him on of the coolest ones possible. Also @ninjawhoa did not talk me down so here’s Lloyd ignoring his one brain cell. 

In his defense, Lloyd most certainly had not been trying to completely eviscerate the inside of his throat. That hadn’t been like, anywhere even remotely near the end goal. Was it something he'd wanted? No. Was it something he’d planned? Of course not, his plans aren’t that bad. Was it something he probably should have expected?

….well, maybe, but it’s too late now.

Way too late, Lloyd thinks to himself, as he finishes hiding the last specks of the incinerated fire alarm in the bathroom trash and immediately retreats to sticking his head beneath the running faucet again.

The thing is, though, smart as he normally is, Lloyd’s had it — well, he’s had it not so great, lately. It hasn’t been the easiest of times in his life, which is saying something, compared to the rest of it. So maybe he’d gotten a little too focused on the barest shred of good news he’d received during the entire thing, sue him.

You try being told you’ve actually been part-dragon your entire life, what would your first move be? And having grown up with dragons as a normal staple in his life, Lloyd’s had a whole lot of inspiration on that front.

In hindsight however, Lloyd thinks, as he tries not to cry over his poor, mutilated throat — he probably should’ve stuck with like, trying to give himself claws, or something. Or even the flying thing. The flying thing would’ve been way better.

The worst part is that it actually looked so stupid cool. Kai would lose his mind over how cool this is, and Lloyd can’t even show him, because he might lose his mind in an entirely different and much less enthusiastic way.

Lloyd tries for a tentative “hey guys”, and immediately doubles over in a bout of wheezing gasps, wishing he’d tried for the sweet bliss of unconsciousness-via-head-bashing instead.

Stuffing a towel in his mouth so the rest of the team doesn’t hear him hacking like a chronic smoker, Lloyd wonders 1) how long it’s going to take the green power to fix his throat, 2) how long he’s going to be able to get away with not speaking, and 3) how much of this he can blame on his great-grandmother before she vaporizes him.

He comes to the conclusion that he’s just gonna blame the whole thing on her.

******************************

Despite the circumstances they’d met under, Lloyd likes his great-grandmother. She’s pretty cool, as far as family members go, and he enjoys talking with her, even if ninety percent of their conversation ends up devoted to lecturing him about what “an absolute scumbag your great-grandfather was, child, truly the spawn of *garbled dragon curses*."

Actually, all their conversations tend to end that way, but Lloyd doesn’t mind too much. It’s kind of like if his great-grandparents has just divorced like normal people, instead of being otherworldly, immortal god-like beings who went to war with each other.

He hasn’t been talking to her for that long — it’d taken a lot of finagling the means of reaching the First Realm from his uncle, for one, and then he’d had to make sure he could get back home, of course. The whole thing ended up being pointless anyways, since his great-grandmother ended up coming to visit him, because he’s the only family member she hasn’t considered barbecuing at some point, apparently. (Yet.)  

“—and you do look just like your father, back when he didn’t take after your thrice-cursed *garbled dragon cursing* of a great-grandfather,” she had said, inspecting him with her large eyes. “I was quite fond of him, you know. He was a true terror, as I’m sure you are. Or perhaps not, you have a sweeter look in your face. It’s the cheeks, I think, you’re not nearly as threatening as he ever looked.”

“Um, thank you,” Lloyd had awkwardly replied, as he’d had little to no reference point of whether or not she genuinely liked him at the time, and was being extra-cautious, because certain recent familial encounters had left him with the mindset that it was best to believe everyone related to him probably wanted to murder him.

Fortunately, his great-grandmother was not one of those types.

“I don’t know about the wings, little one,” she’d informed him as he’d dangled upside from her tail, eyeing him mournfully. “You seem to take too much after your mother’s side.”

Lloyd had been less than thrilled with that response, but he’d swallowed his disappointment the best he could.

“Now the teeth, though,” she’d said, her eyes gleaming. “Those, we can work with.”

That was how the fire-breathing had come to be in the first place — which, as you should note, was entirely his great-grandmother’s idea. She’d reasoned that since Lloyd not only appeared to have manifested most of his dragon characteristics in his mouth, but also had a direct connection to the element of fire, he might be able to both successfully breathe fire and survive the attempt.

“Wait, there’s a chance I wouldn’t survive?” Lloyd had asked, blinking.

“You’re exhaling fire through your little mortal throat, hatchling. Of course there’s a chance you wouldn’t survive. A very small one, mind you — I happen to like you a good deal, and it’d be a terrible shame if all I was left with in the world was the rest of your *garbled dragon cursing* family.”

She had also reasoned that since Lloyd seemed to have an excellent handle on both languages — even if Dragon did sound like butchered yowling in his accent, she bemoaned — perhaps there was a connection with the throat there. At any rate, they had both agreed that Lloyd would be far more likely to breathe fire from his throat than he would be sprouting wings anytime soon.

Lloyd had deliberately mentioned absolutely none of this to his team. If Kai ever learns that he’d been warned dying was an option and continued to try it anyways…

Well, it’s breathing fire. Lloyd’s staking his hopes on Kai being so impressed with how cool it is that he totally forgets about all about murdering his reckless little brother.

******************************

While his great-grandmother gives him all sorts of throat exercises he’s supposed to do — apparently the actual fire’s supposed to come from his chest, but the throat will take the worst of it — he doesn’t get the chance to actually test it out until a week or two later, when he’s walking home alone from the grocery late one night.

All he’s picked up is an extra-large bag of M&M’s and like, four things of cereal, so Lloyd’s in good spirits as he crosses one of the older alleyways. He’s also relaxed enough for the first time in about three months to let his guard down a bit, so it’s a real shame that he immediately gets jumped by thugs the second he does.

“Hands up, kid, nice and easy,” the biggest guy says, waving his gun at him. “We don’t want any trouble, just your money.”

Lloyd bites back a retort. Yeah, sure, they can have all fifty of his cents he’s got left. Lloyd’s a real billionaire here, in his training shorts and Zane’s old sweatshirt, who’s even teaching these guys how to pick targets—

“He said hands up, kid!” the second guy barks at him, his own gun leveling out somewhere wildly above Lloyd’s shoulder. “And drop the bags, too!”

That has Lloyd scowling. He spent the last of his junk food money on this, he’s not leaving it on the city streets, gross. He sighs, shifting his arms and beginning to call up his power, when an idea hits him. Lloyd’s mouth curves into a deliberate smirk.

“Hey kid, we said — hey, stop that creepy grinning, we’re pointing a gun at you—”

Lloyd just grins wider, opens his mouth, and breathes an explosion of streaming flame toward their faces.

If he were his father, Lloyd would call out something terribly impressive, like “may my hellfire vanquish you back to the eternal pit of misery you crawled out of, foolish scum” — but he’s not his father, so he’s been figuring he’ll end up saying something along the lines of “stop right there, sucker” because he was raised by a bunch of teenagers with the combined schooling level of mid-high school.

Unfortunately, all he ends up actually saying is a bunch of strangled screaming, because he’s currently forcing a miniature bonfire through his throat, and wow, he definitely did not calculate how much this was actually going to hurt—

It does the trick, at least. The thugs’ faces lose all their color faster than he can blink, and they jump back screaming in terror, dropping all their guns in their haste to escape.

Lloyd would be cackling like he hasn’t since he was about nine, but he’s too busy trying not die inhaling smoke through his scorched throat.

“Son of — hngh—”

Smoke is billowing out from between his teeth now, and Lloyd sucks in a strangled wheeze, his eyes tearing up as the smoke stings against them. He feels like he’s swallowed a blast from Kai, his throat hurts so bad, but it doesn’t feel deadly. He can already feel the buzz of green power doing it’s job, and the pathetic whining noises he’s making reassure him that his vocal chords are still there, even if it feels like he’s flambéed them.

“Worth it,” Lloyd croaks through his abused, raw throat, before collapsing on the street and nearly passing out.

******************************

The next morning is awful. If Lloyd hadn’t developed such a high pain tolerance as he has, he’d be in serious trouble right now.

Not that it makes it any better, he thinks to himself, trying not to whine as he accidentally swallows, his throat vengefully reminding him that he tried to charbroil it last night.

“Morning, Lloyd,” Cole says cheerfully. Lloyd gives him a weak smile in return, adding a little wave for flair, and hopes it’s enough.

“How would you like your eggs?” Zane asks him. Lloyd jerks a shoulder up in a shrug, trying to look as tired as he can. If he can convince them that he’s just exhausted, instead of slowly dying inside because he breathed fire through his throat last night—

“I want scrambled,” Jay says through a yawn, saving Lloyd from Zane’s quizzical gaze. “Make ‘em all scrambled, Zane, with that cheese you use.”

“A ‘please’ would be appreciated once in a while,” Zane mutters, but he’s already reaching for the fridge again.

Lloyd grits his teeth, trying desperately to ignore how much his mouth tastes like ash. Like, actual ash, which is disgusting. Lloyd’s never gonna be able to eat burnt marshmallows again, which is a true tragedy.

The price you pay for being a badass, Lloyd thinks to himself mournfully.

Kai comes in about then, still scrubbing at his eyes, yawning as he sits next to Lloyd. “Sleep alright?” he asks, words mangled through the yawn.

Lloyd nods, then tries to hide the wince that runs through him as his throat twinges. He’s apparently unsuccessful, because Kai narrows his eyes at him, suddenly looking much more awake.

“Hey, are you okay?” he says, sounding concerned. “Talk to me, bud."

Lloyd bites his lip. If Kai keeps asking, the others are gonna start looking over, and then that’ll be more suspicious. Maybe he can just tell him he’s got a cough? Yeah, he can do that. Just one small sentence, a few little words. He can handle that.

“I’m—ngh—”

Lloyd’s voices catches on the first word, squeaks like a broken recorder, and then coughs a burst of bright fire across the breakfast table.

A chorus of high-pitched screaming rings out across the breakfast room, Cole and Jay jumping back from the flames as Nya and Zane rush toward him, quickly putting out the fire that’s caught the wooden table. Kai’s dancing around Lloyd as he doubles over in hacking coughs, sounding two seconds from a panicked breakdown.

“—coughed up fire, that was fire, Lloyd what the FSM was that?!”

“M’a dragon,’member?” Lloyd wheezes, as he’s stared down by his family’s terrified faces. He coughs again, waving at the tiny puff of smoke that comes out, before giving them a shaky grin. “S’cool, right?”

He’s met with five blank stares.

“Oh dear,” Zane finally says, looking like he’s come to the conclusion that Lloyd is going to kill himself with this. Which is rude, Lloyd can’t be cool as heck if he’s dead.

“This is worse than the lightbulbs,” Cole says, faintly.

“Lloyd, how,” Nya breathes into her hands.

“Dude that’s sick!” Jay bursts out in excitement, immediately cementing his place as one of Lloyd’s favorite people ever. “You can breathe fire, what the heck!”

Kai shakes his head at him in awe, his voice reverent. “That’s so cool, that’s not eve—ennn oh my god he’s dying—!”

Kai’s excitement turns to a horrified shriek as Lloyd coughs up a mouthful of blood.

“S’okay,” Lloyd croaks, waving everyone off they crowd him, wiping at his mouth. “S’normal too. Throat’s just raw. It heals up after a bit.”

He’s met by five of the most unimpressed stares he’s seen all month.

“I’m making you a doctor’s appointment,” Zane sighs, tapping at his phone. “And you’re going over this with Sensei Wu.”

“And you’re not breathing fire anymore,” Cole scolds, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Without us,” Jay adds. Cole elbows him, and he scowls. “What? C’mon, this is super cool.”

“Jay,” Nya says, a warning in her voice.

Jay laughs nervously. “I mean, super dangerous, haha! Real, uh, really dangerous. You’re coughing up blood, that’s bad.”

Kai hovers by his shoulder, still looking torn between dreadful concern, overbearing overprotectiveness, and most importantly, an vicious kind of curiosity.

As Lloyd had hoped it would, curiosity wins out. “D’you think it’d work with me?” he finally asks him, a gleam in his eyes. “Since I can control fire, do you think I could breathe it too—”

“No,” Zane says, quickly.

“Absolutely not,” Nya says flatly. “Not a chance. Neither of you are going to try anything else with fire. If I catch you coughing up smoke, you’re both toast.”

Lloyd and Kai both nod dutifully.

“Of course,” Lloyd assures her, through a creaking rasp.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kai echoes.

******************************

Nya storms out of the monastery at one a.m. that night to find both Kai and Lloyd in the middle of the training field, half the dummies burning down and both sprawled out on the ground. Lloyd is still hacking smoke up, having been responsible for the flames on the right side. Kai is on his hands and knees, his face pale and sweaty, responsible for the fires smoldering on the left. In terms of breathing fire, he’s only been able to trigger his gag relax about seven times, but in terms of enthusiasm, he’s contributed to the blaze on the whole by boosting Lloyd’s flames by eighty percent.

Nya spends about forty-five minutes alternating between yelling at them and dousing them with twin jets of water from her hands. Neither Kai or Lloyd mind getting sprayed by that point, but the yelling definitely doesn’t do wonders for the headaches they’ve both got from smoke inhalation.

******************************

After that fiasco, Lloyd is officially banned from breathing fire, influencing anyone else to try and breathe fire, or even mention breathing fire.

Lloyd declares that this is a prejudiced offense against him being half-dragon.

“You are a prejudiced offense against the entire health world on the whole,” Zane glares at him, tying off the last of the bandages he’s been wrapping around his throat. Lloyd makes a face at him. The bandages are overkill, and Zane knows it — all the damage is on the inside, anyways.

Next to them Nya is still chewing out Kai, who’s steadily chugging at the glass of water Cole forced on him. “I don’t care if you think you’re fireproof, and I don’t care if you—” she stabs an accusatory finger at Lloyd. “Have special elemental powers that’ll heal you eventually. If I so much as see a spark of fire from either of you, anywhere near your mouth, I’m going to super-soak you with the illegal water gun Jay built last summer.”

Kai and Lloyd pale in unison. Kai speaks up hesitantly, “Wouldn’t it just be easier if you hit us with your powers—”

“No,” Nya hisses, her eyes flashing murder. “Because it’s making a point. It’s the water gun of shame.”

Kai and Lloyd exchange commiseratory glances.

Cole and Jay don’t say much until Nya and Zane have wandered from the room, at which point they surge forward, eyes gleaming.

“Tell me you got video of it,” Jay whispers.

Kai grins. “Duh. Wait ’til you see what he did to the balance beams.”

******************************

After that, unfortunately, Lloyd really does have to stop breathing fire. Mostly because he’d like to be able to speak again without doubling over in wheezing coughs, but also because Nya’s legitimately terrifying with her water gun.

Also because Kai’s too scared of Nya as well, so Lloyd’s lost his claim to a bad influence.

Ah well, Lloyd mopes to himself. It’s a nice card to have up his sleeve in a pinch, he guesses, but clearly it was never meant to be a natural thing. He’s just too human. (Or too Oni — maybe that’s influencing it? He’ll have to ask his great-grandmother, next time she goes off on another rant about them.)

The important point is, he has every intention of not doing it again. Every intention.

But then he visits his father in prison again, because his dad’s chatty like that now, apparently. Which isn’t a terribly bad thing on its own, because Mr. Self-Proclaimed (or was it Harumi-proclaimed?) Emperor Garmadon has at least mellowed out a bit since the whole “wreck half the city in a rage” thing. And Lloyd’s been called here in person to check out the new security measures they put up, so he does have a good reason.

No, the breaking point comes when Lloyd’s trying to leave in peace, and his terrible dad of a father decides to make some snarky comment about how “boringly quiet you are today”, like Lloyd’s supposed to be his entertainment, or something.

Normally Lloyd would just ignore it and storm off, but his throat’s been killing him this whole time, and the vein in the upper right corner of his forehead is throbbing just a little too much. So instead of leaving, he whirls on his father, eyes flashing as he growls. Garmadon’s teeth bare, prepared to snap at him, and Lloyd opens his mouth to snap right back—

And promptly breathes a campfire’s worth of bright flames at him instead.

Lloyd claps a hand over his mouth in horror as the flames blossom out against the glass barrier, before doubling over in ragged coughs, smoke streaming through his fingers. A clamoring of alarms goes off, and that’s the only warning Lloyd gets before the emergency sprinklers come on, soaking both him and his father. At least they’ll hide the brimming tears from the smoke in his eyes, Lloyd thinks miserably, watching as his gi soaks through.

Garmadon is dead silent. He stares at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. He closes his mouth, blinking twice, his jaw working. Then, finally— “That is undeniably unfair,” he growls. “She taught you how to do that? I’ve been begging her since I was six.”

Despite the intense agony his throat is in, Lloyd beams. “It’s so cool, right?” he says, his voice sounding like a malfunctioning blender. “Totally awesome. No idea why she wouldn’t teach you. Must suck to be—”

Lloyd doesn’t get to gloat much more than that, because he starts wheezing again and the security guards come drag him out “for his own safety”, but for the look on his dad’s face?

So worth it.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #nya smith #the whole squad's there but mostly just lloyd #and his great grandma #the alternate title was 'lloyd's too hot (hot damn)' dont judge me #my fic

[quillyfied]

Omenstuck Act 2 Bonus Content

Hello! Here’s just some extra bonus content from the pretty weighty upd8 I posted to my fanfic Omenstuck today (for Chapter 4: Act 2 specifically). A lot of background info went into it that I’m not going to get much occasion to use, so I’m doing what any self-respecting writer would do and dumping it here instead. Obviously has huge spoilers for Omenstuck so if you haven’t read the upd8s from today, don’t look. Hope the readmore holds on mobile, and there are some images below, too. Enjoy!

So for starters, I’m going to post the little cheat sheet that I had on hand for remembering all the characters’ assigned blood colors, Trollian handles, god tier titles, and quadrants (both filled and experimented with):

In order, here’s what we’ve got:

Crowley. Blood: burgundy. UN: anthomanicCaduceus. GT: Rogue of Life. Quadrants: Aziraphale (matesprit), Eric (auspistice, unwitting) and Hastur (other leaf of auspisticism quadrant, unwitting). Lusus: snake

Eric. Blood: brown. UN: coneyCloning. GT: Heir of Time. Quadrants: Auspistice to Crowley and Hastur (unwitting); Uriel (auspistice between arguing Erics, short-lived). Lusus: rabbit

Beelzebub. Blood: yellow. UN: carrionTyrant. GT: Prince of Rage. Quadrants: Dagon (moirail), Gabriel (kismesis). Lusus: giant fly

Ligur. Blood: lime/red (vacillating glitch). UN: guanineChameleon. GT: Sylph of Space. Quadrants: Hastur (moirail), Michael (kismesis). Lusus: chameleon

Hastur. Blood: olive. UN: amphibiousGrunt. GT: Knight of Breath. Quadrants: Ligur (moirail), Eric (auspistice, unwitting) and Crowley (other leaf of auspisticism quadrant, unwitting). Lusus: frog

Dagon. Blood: jade. UN: aquaticTaskmaster. GT: Witch of Mind. Quadrants: Beelzebub (moirail), Sandalphon (matesprit, short-lived), Metatron (kismesis, one-sided crush). Lusus: lungfish

Aziraphale. Blood: teal. UN: aetherialAntiquarian. GT: Thief of Doom. Quadrants: Crowley (matesprit), Michael (auspistice, coercing) and Sandalphon (other leaf of auspisticism quadrant, coercing). Lusus: ??? (dragon, owl?)

Michael. Blood: cerulean. UN: tenebrousAgent. GT: Seer of Void. Quadrants: Uriel (moirail), Aziraphale (one leaf of auspisticism quadrant, coerced) and Sandalphon (other leaf of auspisticism quadrant, co-conspirator), Ligur (kismesis). Lusus: ??? (tbh spider would still fit here)

Sandalphon. Blood: indigo. UN: toughenedCrusader. GT: Page of Blood. Quadrants: Michael (auspistice, co-conspirator) and Aziraphale (other leaf of auspisticism quadrant, coerced), Gabriel (moirail), Dagon (matesprit, short-lived). Lusus: ??? (Possibly musclebeast)

Uriel. Blood: purple. UN: celestialAureate. GT: Maid of Heart. Quadrants: Michael (moirail), Eric (mediated between two of his arguing selves, short-lived). Lusus: ??? (sea-goat still viable)

Gabriel. Blood: violet. UN: gregariousArchangel. GT: Bard of Hope. Quadrants: Sandalphon (moirail), Beelzebub (kismesis). Lusus: ??? (seahorse or shark)

Metatron. Blood: fuchsia. UN: communicantGodhead. GT: Mage of Light. Quadrants: object of one-sided pitch crush from Dagon. Lusus: Horrorterror from Beyond (Gl’bgol’yb, probably)

Here’s the shipping chart of what this madness looked like:

Solid lines for established or longer-lasting relationships, dotted lines for either crushes or experiments that didn’t pan out. Crowley, Eric, and Hastur’s auspisticism is dotted because it’s not a consciously-thought out relationship that’s actually been defined so much as a convenient social contract that keeps Hastur from killing Crowley by distracting him with a multitude of Erics, which makes it a pretty functional auspisticism, actually.

Some notes:

- If you’re thinking that the blood colors and god tier titles don’t exactly fit, you’re right, but there’s a reason, and we’ll get to it in future chapters of Omenstuck. Maybe one day I’ll do the thing proper and give them all more accurate classpects and blood colors, but I think I did pretty well, given everything.

- This means that it was Hastur and Ligur’s jobs, as the Knight and Space players, to breed the Genesis Frog, which creates each new universe, and that tickles me to the bone.

- Ligur’s whole situation is a nod to both Good Omens and to Homestuck; for a bit I entertained making Crowley the hemo-mutant that Karkat is, but thought he fit best lower on the totem pole (on his belly he shall crawl and all that). Canonically, Karkat’s bright red human-like blood is a mutation off of an old hemospectrum caste, the limebloods, and it tickled me to think of Ligur occupying both the limebloods and the red mutation that spawned from it, as a nod to his color-changing in Good Omens and his affiliation with chameleons. Also, apparently it’s the guanine in their skin that makes chameleons change color, which is what the G in Homestuck pesterchum handles stands for (bc the chats are all supposed to represent DNA strands that make up each Genesis Frog that creates each new universe), so it came together kinda perfectly. If Ligur ever was in a pesterlog, I was going to code it so his lines would alternate colors, but it didn’t pan out that way.

- Was it overly simplistic to cast Hell as the lowbloods and Heaven as the highbloods? Yes. But there are two reasons for this, one of which I can’t say because spoilers, one of which I will freely admit, which is that I got tired and just simplified where I could because I was already putting more effort into backstory that turned out to be less relevant than I thought once I finally got the dang thing written.

- In the bowels of my Instagram there is a doodle of Gabriel with the traditional Bardic codpiece and an expression to match, but I didn’t keep it in canon. It is definitely there in spirit and more loving detail will be paid attention to it if I ever go back and do a proper Homestuck troll AU.

- There was a subplot I discarded when thinking of the quadrant entanglements that involved Dagon hooking up with both Sandalphon and Michael in a redrom way and that being one of the catalysts for the bloodbath at the end, because I adore Dagon/Michael and wanted to go there first but she was already appearing so much, and I remember reading about Dagon/Sandalphon once in a fic I wish I could remember off the top of my head and it was so bizarre I adored it. Ultimately I stuck with Dagon and Sandalphon having a redrom fling, because why not.

- Dagon was also going to have a whole Thing against Metatron that boiled down to her having vestigial seadweller traits and being jealous of an actual seadweller that didn’t do his heritage credit, but Metatron was such a non-entity that it didn’t feel relevant to bring up, with so much already getting crammed into this upd8.

- Gabriel and Eridan have some eerie synergy and that’s a hill I’ll die on.

- Uriel was supposed to have a bigger part, too, delving into how they fit into the whole purpleblood Mirthful Messiahs cult and how they use their paint to emphasize their vitiligo (inspired by their canonical pretty gold face markings), but once again...not enough room, not enough interaction with Crowley or Aziraphale. They were either going to be a huge part of it, or eschew it entirely in favor of worshipping Metatron and possibly Metatron’s eldritch lusus instead, but eh. Roads untraveled. I also didn’t doodle their facepaint while I was doing my concept sketches/brainstorming activities so I just let it be.

- The whole Michael and Sandalphon using a heavily manipulative auspisticism to blackmail and control Aziraphale was a concept I had from the beginning, but when I wrote the scene, it actually shook me up a lot; Auspisticism is one of the platonic and weirder quadrants in Homestuck, but it didn’t hit me until I had written it how that particular dynamic could be exploited and turned into something kinda borderline abusive, if not outright abusive (I’m trying to be more careful in how I apply the word so I don’t know for sure if what I wrote counts as fully abusive, or just a super bad time). To be honest, in all the Homestuck fics that ever were, I don’t think I ever read a single one that described what I did in this fic (and RAPE MENTION TW a part of me that is forever struck by my friend’s fic that described a brutal pale rape, as in forcing the usual nonsexual markers of the pale quadrant on an unwilling victim, was worried that I had written ashen rape, which was NOT where I wanted to go; after worrying about it to friends and sleeping on it, I don’t think I quite went there, but the implication that it COULD happen is going to haunt me for a while).

- I did want to get more detailed with a lot of things, like Crowley and Aziraphale’s influencing and talking with humans, and how it was affecting things like their vocabulary and how they saw the world, but it was just too much to tackle in any great detail.

- the whole thing where Crowley uses his god tier powers to steal Life energy from his fellow stranded trolls and makes plants that could potentially feed them one day? Totally unexpected. I did a LOT of refreshing myself on the classes and aspects of god tiers when I was doing the groundwork for this part of the fic, but it didn’t strike me that that was a thing Crowley could do until I was already writing it. And maybe Aziraphale should’ve been a little more horrified by it, but Crowley’s right, they ARE immortal now. Also the whole “taking Life energy and redistributing it among allies” thing probably wasn’t meant to be interpreted as “puts the other trolls in the Mood for quadrant hookups” but it was too hilarious a coincidence to ignore. Life needs things to live, as a wise internet dnd player once said, and when you’re the last of your species, you’ve gotta do what you can to propagate (even if it’s functionally impossible to restore your species, since there’s no Mother Grub to donate slurry to and no ectobiological lab to make ectobabies from. God loves a trier). Does that make all the hookups dubious consent, since weird Life magic was involved? I don’t think so, I think it just accelerated what was already present, but I’ll leave that to y’all to judge.

- Crowley was actually supposed to be the one to die. It said so in my notes. It was a whole Thing, Crowley getting speared or shot or whatever and looking at Aziraphale like “ha I got this one better luck next time”. But then I made Aziraphale a Thief of Doom, which was originally a joke to myself about how he hoards books (Thief players are hoarders and Doom can represent rules or systems), and then he got all contemplative and hit ME back with “no, no, sister, you made me a Thief of Doom, I’m gonna steal this death meant for Crowley and keep it all to myself, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” And he was RIGHT. I can’t believe I’ve killed Aziraphale THREE TIMES now. And I completely forgot about how god tier players are also immortal from being killed unless the death is Heroic or Just until, again Aziraphale reminded me by pushing Crowley out of the way--therefore making his death to sacrifice himself for his friend and beloved Heroic. I played myself in every possible way. Checkmate, brain. (As for what that means in future chapters, stick around, it’s only gonna get weirder, but Homestucks who are puzzled at the inclusion of Dream Shards rather than Dream Bubbles are encouraged to draw some conclusions of their own.)

I think that’s all I wanted to talk about, so have a doodle of Michael with her Seer hood drawn for funsies.

See y’all later! Feel free to send me an ask or a comment or whatever if you have any questions or just wanna talk about this madness I’m creating!

#good omens #omenstuck #quilly writing #quillartist #quilly writing: director's cut #oof y'all i did so much weird work on this #feels good to have it all out there

[min-sugar-7]

DAY 5: “Any other lies to tell me?” + Angst

Read it on AO3 Here!

Merlin slumped against his bed, covering his eyes and willing them not to spill. It felt stupid, really. But he was told for so long that Arthur is the other side to his coin, his other half, his soulmate. He should have known better than to think that destiny would ever favor him.

It probably would hurt less if Kilgharrah did not feed Merlin pointless lies. If he had clearly stated that there would be nothing romantic between them. Because Merlin went ahead and caught feelings, those pesky little things. At least he never got a chance to make a fool of himself.

What was he thinking? Golden Prince, Arthur Pendragon, falling for him? Of course, his true love was a 'she.' At least he never acted on his feelings. At least the only one that knows about them was himself. But it is fine. It’s not like he loves Arthur. He hates him half the time anyway.

A lie.

He is just a little bit heartbroken. Maybe a bit more than little. But he should have known better than to think that there could be anything between them. It is a miracle they are even friends, considering the number of lies Merlin has told him. 

That, sadly, did not mean that Merlin got over his feelings. It hurt, seeing Arthur with someone else, but at least it was Gwen. Sweet, kind, strong, and caring Gwen. He couldn’t have chosen anyone better. She’s the best in the world.

So Merlin made sure his two favorite people were happy, even if it meant that he would be pining from a distance. He is glad that Arthur’s happy and smiling, even if those were directed to someone else. It’s fine. Destiny was a stupid thing anyway. 

Well, it was fine right up until he was getting crushed under the weight of destiny. If one more person reminded him of his destiny, Merlin would scream. Merlin doubts if he can keep going, carrying the weight of the expectations of sorcerers alive and dead. Not to mention the fact that he’s considered some sort of leader to the magical community. Merlin was not trained for this, will never be trained for this, and cannot possibly live up to their expectations.

Everyone expects Emrys to be some sort of divine leader- fearless and ruthless, a guardian and protector of the magical community. Merlin isn’t Emrys. He doesn’t want to be Emrys. But every single Druid he meets bows and pays their respects and tells him how he’s such a great warlock. 

Merlin might as well scream. 

They treat him like a God, which is not as great as you would think. Merlin is the one to carry their dreams and expectations. Their hopes and dreams followed him around like dead weight, refusing to leave. He is required to fulfill it. It is either that or let every magical being suffer. 

And he is the only one to carry the burden of fate.

He doesn’t have anyone to share it with, not even Gaius. Gaius doesn’t get it either, and never will. He treats Merlin like a son, and for that, he is very grateful. Some days he is sure he would be dead in a ditch if it weren’t for Gaius. But with Gaius, it is a bit different. For him, having Merlin is like having a God for a son, which isn’t that far from the truth. He knows that Gaius worries for him and cares for him. But Gaius also has expectations for Merlin. Expectations he’s afraid he can’t fulfill.

With each passing day, the threat to Arthur’s life grows stronger and more dangerous. Merlin cannot keep up. 

Everyone who knows about Merlin’s magic also knows about his destiny. There are people that Merlin does not know that know about Merlin’s destiny. Merlin wants to yell that they are entrusting their freedom to the hands of the wrong person. That he is not the one they should be laying down their lives for. That there must be another sorcerer, one who deserves to be called Emrys. 

He feels laced with guilt and regret for the lives of Alator and Finna, along with every other sorcerer's life lost for a cause that is impossible to fulfill. They have laid it all down so Merlin could hear, in painful detail, just how his King is going to die. 

Merlin did scream then, in the relative privacy of the forest. Arthur’s going to die, and if Merlin doesn't prevent it, it is all on him. Arthur's death would be on him. It is going to be his fault that there will be no Albion. It is going to be his fault that magic will forever be lost to these lands. It is going to be his fault that Arthur's going to die, and he doesn't want that. He wants Arthur to live a happy and long life.

Somewhere along the line, 'Albion' sounded like 'Arthur.' If given a choice between the two, Merlin would no doubt chose Arthur. He would pick Arthur over and over again. Always Arthur. Because Arthur has become his priority, and he won't be able to live with himself if he let Arthur die. It will all be his fault.

It was his fault anyway. It was his fault Morgana turned. It was his fault that Mordred lived. It was his fault that he didn’t let Morgana die when he had the chance. It was his fault that while trying to show Arthur how good magic can be, he did the complete opposite. For Arthur, magic is something that took his mother, his father, his sister, and his wife. Merlin doubts that saving Gwen made Arthur’s opinion on magic any different. 

Everything he does, everything he tries, only brings him closer to the inevitable. Arthur is going into battle at dawn, and Merlin won’t even be there. 

Merlin promised Arthur that he would always protect him or die trying. A lie. He failed at both. Now Arthur’s saddled up with a piece of a sword forged in a dragon’s breath inside him, the very same dragon he should have looked after.

Aithusa, Light of the Sun, the very same dragon Kilgharrah said would bode well for Albion, for him and Arthur, and for the land they would build together. 

A lie.

It is the sword drenched in her breath that brought Arthur down. Merlin did not have the heart to blame her. Merlin was the one that abandoned her, sent her straight to Morgana. 

Gaius trusted him, told him that only he could save Arthur. Said that he would have a bowl of his favorite soup waiting for him, for when he would come back. He said that Arthur would be fine, that the Shide would heal him. 

Another lie.

Merlin clutched the wheezing body of his love tighter as if he could will him to stay. It is all his deepest nightmares playing out. Arthur- dying in his arms- practically resenting Merlin’s magic. For all his magic and he still could not save his love. 

Nothing, nothing ever could be worse than this.

Until it was. 

In any other situation, anything but this, Merlin would have cherished Arthur’s last words. He despised them. He despised his final words, the last whisper of something he has never said before. He despised the way they were told- as if a confession of his deepest darkest secret. 

But that is what they were. Arthur had a wife, a loving, doting wife, and yet- 

And yet, his last words to Merlin had been a choked whisper of, “I love you.”

Merlin has dreamt of those words, thought about every single way Arthur would tell him. Never like this, though. But those were just that- dreams and fantasies. But Destiny was never easy, was it?

Was it all a lie? Could, heaven forbid, Arthur really love him? Or was it just words spoken out of desperation, just another lie?

Just like how his destiny was a lie? Like how Albion was a lie? Like how the Kingdom they were supposed to build, together, was a lie? 

Like how everything Kilgharrah said was a lie. Like how his hopes and dreams were lies. Like how every Druid lied. Like how everything was a lie, a half-baked truth, a stupid fantasy. 

“There is nothing you can do, Merlin, for all that you have dreamt has come to pass,” Kilgharrah said.

 Lies.

He had failed. He’d failed Arthur. He’d failed Morgana. He’d failed Gwen. He'd failed Gaius. He’d failed Mordred, Isidir, and Freya. He’d failed Finna, Alator, and Gili. He’d failed Daegel, Balinor, and Hunith. He’d failed all the sorcerers that died during and after the Purge. He’d failed all the sorcerers living in fear. He’d failed all that sorcerers that are yet to be born.

Merlin stayed long after he sent Arthur away, no doubt his bowl of soup growing cold. He learned that Gwaine, too, had passed in a last attempt to run Morgana through. It was not supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be the three of them, Courage, Strength, and Magic, standing side-by-side, ready to face whatever destiny throws at them.

Another Lie.

He made it as far as Camelot’s gates, listening to the echoes of “Long Live the Queen,” before deciding that Camelot would prosper under Gwen’s rule. He could never, ever face her again. Not after his failure, not after the lies. Not after being the keeper of his King’s last words, which no doubt should have belonged to Gwen. 

He only scried for Gaius when he felt the old man’s life slipping away. Gaius saw him and heard him, telling him that they missed him there. No doubt another lie. Merlin watched as the light behind Gaius’s eyes dimmed, saying one last goodbye to the closest thing he had to a father. 

Soon it was Kilgharrah, and then Geoffrey, then Gwen, then Leon, then Percival, then Audrey, Queen Annis, Queen Mithian, Queen Vivian, Queen Elena, Isidir, Gili, Sefa… 

He should have guessed that he would be punished in some way. The Gods made him immortal, forever waiting for Arthur to return. Forever waiting near the lake, never allowed to be away from Albion for long. 

Excalibur might have been his only way out, but he had disposed of it into the lake soon after Arthur died. Again, that could have been a lie too. 

The world changed. Green and magic got replaced by iron and steel. Aithusa passed peacefully in her sleep, never once forgiving Merlin for slaying Morgana. Magic slipped away from the land slowly, until the last tendril of magic died along with the last wizard, leaving Merlin to be the only source of magic left.

All of it seeped deep into the Earth’s core, locked away and to never be accessed, leaving the Earth barren. 

Wars broke out, along with famine, storms and disasters, and death. The Lake of Avalon remained still and timeless, forever preserved by the Gods, like Merlin. 

Merlin looked up at the sky, where he believed the Gods to be, long forgotten like the legend of his love and his legacy. The Gods were never merciful. They had disappeared too, the last of them forgotten like Merlin. But Merlin was forced to keep living, forever traveling the Earth, never straying too far from the lake. 

“Any other lies left to tell me?” Merlin said, resigned and pitiful, as he felt the world falling apart around him. Arthur never once returned, dooming Merlin to watch as humans ripped apart from each other, unable to help. They tear themselves apart, rebuilding and rehabilitating soon after. They, too, had been cursed to keep going, destroying and restoring. And for all Merlin knew, that also could have been a lie.

#merthurweek2020 #day5 #angst #fic #prompt fill #unrequited love #requited unrequited love #immortal merlin #major character deaths #minor character deaths #lots and lots of angst #pining!merlin #bbc merlin

[lairofsentinel]

Mystra

I'm so new in the Forgotten Realms lore that everything I read needs always further research. So far, what got me between disbelief and mistrust was Mystra stuff meddling with humans to such deep level. Because, really... what the fuck these Gods? I always have problems with Gods in fantasy worlds. I don't like them when they are like Greek mythology entities. I prefer them when they are a mere illusion of mortals.

However, here, in the Forgotten Realms, we got them as entities like Zeus... so they can have mortal fun. UPDATE April 2021: What it’s said in this post about shadow weave and shadow weave magic and shadow magic are incorrect. In 5e, shadow weave is not mentioned, apparently a non used concept anymore. In 4e it was collapsed with the destruction of the Weave, and Shar attempted to recreated it, failing at it because she never “was” the Shadow Weave. Shar always rejected that level of commitment. However, according to bg3 [Ethel’s words] shadow magic currently is the same as netherese magic, described by Gale/Narator also as “Primal weave” or “blackest weave”. No book from 5e says a word about shadow weave anymore. 

According to what I've read, Mystra was, in fact, a young peasant girl with non-trained skills in magic, but somehow, she became the Goddess of Magic when Netheril fell. [I need to read a lot of Netheril because apparently everything bad comes from there. It's the Tevinter of the Forgotten Realms. I honestly don't understand how you just become a goddess out of the blue. One day a mediocre mage, the next one, Goddess of the Magic itself. What a gap there.]

As a Goddess, she has a system to determine who is her “Chosen One” (hence why Gale explicitly said that word, it was not by chance). The Chosen Ones have unique access to the Weave and therefore they cast powerful magic. Among their responsibilities, they need to research new magic, wander the Realms fighting the evil (and/or doing research), and to stop the abuses of magic and the imbalances of the Weave. This makes Shar followers an easy target for them to strike so far I understand, since Shar crafted an alternative Weave (Shadow Weave) from where she drags the power that infuse into her followers. However, it's a mirror Weave, extremely dependable of the normal Weave. Like Gale explained, when Mystryl died, the Weave stopped existing, and with it, the Shadow Weave fell apart too. It seems that Shadow Weave is an aberration, an imbalance of the Weave itself. [So, Shadowheart and Gale may have strong discussions on the matter.]

The man who was Mystra’s first Chosen One was a lesser god called Azuth (we found some books of this guy in BG3). The man was his devotee (despite being a low rank deity as well), his servant, his chosen one, and later, his lover (when Mystra was still Mystryl). It seems he shifted his role to a more fatherly one when Mystra was reborn [Oook]. He also was in love with another Mystra's chosen, so... divinity polyamory we have here.

Then she proceeded to accomplish a strange plan [details of this atrocity here]: to have seven immortal Chosen. So she possessed a sorceress who conceived seven immortal women with her husband [thanks god it was with her husband and not with a random man that Mystra fancied]. These women are known as the Seven Sisters, all of them are “chosen ones” of Mystra, and in a sense, they are also her daughters. [oh, boy. Greek Gods-like stuff.]

She also named Chosen One a necromancer called Sammaster who was doing research related to metamagic and dragons. The story says that Mystra appeared before him and they “spent 10 days together”, turning him into his Chosen One for a while. She apparently had a whim to choose him because soon a previous chosen one was going to die in battle, so she wanted to sort this out sooner than later. The story also says that this encounter made the necromancer feel as though they were in love. [I see the pattern now....] What it's worth highlighting: this man went into deep undead research all his life showing that Mystra has a weird moral sense of what is good from evil, which makes sense, since (magical) knowledge by itself has no alignment. Magical knowledge is never good or evil, it depends on the use you give to it (It’s also worth noting that the previous Mystra was True Neutral while the one reborn in Midnight was Neutral Good. There are two different Mystras in history.). But returning to the necromancer, the guy, in the end, manipulated by a priest of Bane, abused of his powers of Chosen and Mystra removed them. He concluded that most of his problems have been caused by accepting Mystra's role as Chosen One. Soon after that Sammaster became evil and succumbed to madness.

In short, Mystra is a goddess who loves to play favourites, and encourages research in a competitive way using a certain degree of seduction for that. So that, the Arts and the arcane knowledge will be always expanding via competition [she has such a neoliberal-magic ideas]. So, being her Chosen One seems to bring a lot of responsibility and troubles. However, it also grants you fancy benefits:

Casting more spells with less effort. 

Natural detection of magic (maybe some residual effect of this ability is what makes Gale able to sense shadow magic in Shadowheart or in the Main Character if they are a user of magic. Hence his “that gust of weave”. Gale also presents sensitivity to detect magic via smell (mirror) and taste)

Development of magical immunities, and sometimes even poison and disease immunities.

The chosen ones become harder to kill, kind of tank-wizards. [Which feels like an oxymoron, lol.]

And the most important blessing: silver-fire [this is the fire Gale speaks about when his spell failed] Which is an overpowered ability in the Forgotten Realms. It can destroy any barrier and does massive damage. It can be cast once each hour, which is... wow. It can destroy “dead magic zones”, which are zones disconnected from the Weave and therefore, places where no common magic can be cast. With Silver-fire, such zones are reconnected to the Weave and become part of Mystra's influence once more. And finally, it allows precise teleportation once a day.

What we can infer now from this info and Gale, is that... when he got Mystra’s attention, it was not just because he was a prodigy alone. It had to be whether he was doing some research that interested her (probably not) or his fate was going to lead him to unknown knowledge in a future. Considering what he did with the netheril orb, one would say that maybe Mystra saw that event in a future, and considered it interesting enough to choose Gale as the one dealing with that bit of hidden and dangerous knowledge. Because so far I read, it’s clear she can see future or potential in a certain degree, and determine who replace her chosen ones. We also saw she favours those who explore the unknown without moral issues, and she has no reserves to exploit that by seductive ways. 

Now, unlike Sammaster, why did Gale stop being his Chosen one if his fate was to retrieve that netheril orb? I believe she removed his title of chosen one when Gale got that orb stuck in his chest, not because his action was an aberration before her eyes (we remember she is quite flexible in her morals) but because the artefact was dangerous to herself. That orb looks to me like something that imbalances the Weave in great escale; it’s basically a necrotic black hole which feeds on Weave. Maybe she removed her favour on Gale because now the man had a power that could consume her. Remember the Chosen Ones are constantly in “touch with her body/weave” [lol, horny gods these gods], and considering that thing sucks all Weave... it seems obvious that could eat her up. So, maybe, all this stuff of Gale being Chosen One was just another of her plans to access to the knowledge of that tiny bit of primal Weave, completely hidden from her, and she is expecting for Gale to resolve it in order to recover his benefits as Chosen one. 

She certainly is a super smart goddess, basically a mastermind, who doesn’t care to whom she uses and discards in order to obtain knowledge. So, using Gale this way, without explanations.... it could be one of her plans. Turn into her lover a young man that would be desperate enough to risk reaching dangerous spaces to offer her precious unknown knowledge. The plan became too dangerous to Mystra, so she severed the deep link between them out of preservation, and now she is waiting for him to solve it, offering her the knowledge obtained from the process. Absolutely possible.  

But we’ll see. So far, I know a little bit more of Mystra.

Update of several days after writing this: The more I think about all this info, the more I wonder if Mystra’s Chosen One system splits her champions into two different groups: The “valuable” Chosen Ones, where Elminster and her seven daughter fall; they are the embodiment of the good use of magic in favour of neutral or good uses. And then, you have the “disposable” Chosen Ones, who seem to be more like victims of a certain degree of manipulation of the Goddess. In this category falls the necromancer Sammaster (and potentially Gale?). They can have more grey morals, but as long as they provide new knowledge and advance in the Arts, she favours them anyways. I mean… so far I read, Elminster was never “in love” with Mystra, and all that crappy dynamics between Goddess and mortal was never part of his relationship with her. His lover, though, was one of the Seven Sisters, so maybe that’s why Mystra controlled herself. I don’t know xD [These horny gods]. But when it comes to the necromancer’s story… it feels as though she encourages this seduction so the wizard will take all the necessary risks to go beyond the limits of knowledge to get her attention and favour. There is something manipulative there. 

More content of bg3 in general [here]

#mystra #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #forgotten realms #forgotten realms lore #a bit of spoilers of Gale #gale

[zelskzerker]

Mangadex went down so I read alot 2/7

Lets CONTINUE reviewing a bunch of isekai and related stuff I binged because mangadex went down. The scale will be a single thumbs up to a single thumbs down in terms of how much I would consider recommending it in general. Lot more to come, brace yourself future me who is reading this.

The Reincarnation Magician Of The Inferior Eyes

Chapters 1-55

This manga is FUCKING SHOCKING. [Insert reincarnation setup] but this time it is end tier level generic. I actually cannot believe the things that happen in this manga are so utterly within my prediction range. Calling the plot and characters lazy would not give this enough credit. It takes alot of force of will to produce something so utterly generic, devoid of spirit, bereft of theme and lacking in interesting setting. I keep reading only to be shocked SHOCKED at how basic the next fuckin plot point is. HOW FAR CAN THIS GO?!?! It is maddening. THUMBS DOWN.

The Reincarnation Magician Of The Inferior Eyes (Prequel)

Chapters 1-21

I cannot believe this. How is there a prequel. How is it even worse. Is this a test? Did Cthulu write this to drive me insane? HOW IS THERE A PREQUEL. This must be a personal attack. Who asked for this. Why.

Revival Game of Wandering Reincarnations

Chapters 1-20

Hmmm. This manga’s concept actually comes together and manages to have emotional highs and lows in a short amount of time. Where it doesn’t connect with me is how every arc completion in this ends with some plot-direction altering revelation about the world that its hard to grasp the theme. Its the best its concept allows I guess. THUMB SIDEWAYS. 

Do You Think Someone Like You Could Defeat the Demon Lord?

Chapters 1-8. 

THUMBS SIDEWAYS. Biggest problem here is how little is translated. Great trajectory, bad total amount of content. Gorey story of a former hero tricked into slavery by an evil member of the hero’s party. Using the knowledge she got there and her skill to reverse effects, she fights for a daily life with her new maid friend. Edgy dark and sweet yuri mix.

Start a leisurely lord life with a plant magic cheat After farming with the knowledge of the previous life, a reversal life began

Chapters 1-7

[Insert isekai startup here] but this time its about growing a town with MC’s OP plant growing magic. Nothing too interesting here, just slice of life slow town building. THUMB SIDEWAYS.

The Principle of a Philosopher by Eternal Fool "Asley"

Chapters 1-41

[Insert reincarnation setup] but this time he didn’t actually die, just hikki researched for waaay too long. 5000 years too long. He drank an immortality potion he accidentally made, so old age can’t kill him(he can only die when killed.) Firstly, the story has got alot of chapters which means it clearly goes through multiple arcs and scenarios that allow the grand narrative to start coming into perspective and show how the MC is going for it. Most notable thing about this is how much a comedy duo The Fool Asley and his Trusty Dog Pochi make. It is every chapter, sometimes hit or miss, so you have to be braced for constant back-and-forth comedy acts. For a reincarnation-esque series, Astley is not overpowered for the world. Or at least he really does not want to show off what he can do and has invented himself willy nilly. It is really interesting to see how he self-describes himself as an idiot and he is slow to learn and talentless, his only real advantage being his massive age. As long as you can take the comedy antics and the sometimes iffy art, THUMBS UP.

Exceeding limits can only be handled by reincarnated people

Chapters 1-5. 

Absolutely wild start, even though its isekai. THUMBS UP. For at least the first chapter. Skills in this world are mineable ores and each person only has 8 skill slots. Then of course the MC equips an ability that needed 10 slots. Story outside the inciting incident is cute shotasekai stuff. But damn chapter 1 pops off.

Saikyou Juzoku Tensei: Majutsu Otaku no Risoukyou

Chapters 1-20

So [insert isekai startup here] but this time the MC’s clan uses totems to teach magic, therefore MC mostly uses totem magic. Alot of this series is made up of weird ideas like that and the biggest hook I saw is the chapter 6 stinger of the clan having its siblings marry, the MC obviously hating it and running away, and the YOOOO part of his little sister being a yandere out to fuck him. Surprisingly interesting. THUMBS UP. 

Shadow Hero's Daily Life

Chapters 1-10

Displays and goes through the positivity in seeking revenge. One of the best complete expressions of the theme of “revenge” that I have ever read. A THUMBS UP based on that alone.

The Abandoned Hero is Going Home

Chapters 1-6

THUMBS DOWN. Eh. Not worth reading based on its incompleteness and hiatus.

Shokei Shoujo no Ikirumichi

Chapters 1-12

A well thought out world and story about an isekai slayer *coughcoughfuckisekaicheatslayercoughcough*. The world exists such that the isekai’d are many(relatively speaking) and are on a variable scale from good to bad. The only consistency about them being that their skills eventually grow out of control and instantiate nuclear-tier catastraphoes. So the MC is part of a group that assassinates them, before they know whats happening. Good depictions of present, past, and expectations of how the MC will grow given the recent isekai’d girl she meets and has to travel with because she can’t be killed by normal means. Also touches on how the assassins don’t neccessarily see themselves as good people. Some even see themselves as evil. THUMBS UP. Oh yeah also this is a yuri story so its anime as fuck and adorable.

Even Though I'm a Former Noble and a Single Mother, My Daughters Are Too Cute and Working as an Adventurer Isn’t Too Much of a Hassle

Chapters 1-8

Cute concept, but its kinda only it’s concept so far. Mom is a god tier semi-immortal and fights for her daughters. Maybe the revelation of mysteries later will be interesting but, its exactly as the title says. THUMBS SIDEWAYS.

Vermeil in Gold

Chapters 1-9

Gotta love these oneshota manga. Good design sense, really love Captain Kurys. Vermeil is shamelessly lewd and secretly tragic. This is a story that is going on constantly despite oneshota shenanigans every chapter. su-perb. THUMBS UP.

Ragna Crimson

Chapters 1-40

THUMBS UP. This manga is absolutely wild. It has 4 different scenarios, each which are so radically different in setting and then they just flip out into a totally different setting, making it impossible to predict the trajectory of the manga or what kind of arc will happen next. The only thing worth describing here is the MC with big himbo that is beqeauthed power from his future self in order to protecc his loli this time. Thusly, Ragna wants to kill every “dragon.” They say dragon, its more like vampires. Then there is Crimson, one of the strongest dragons who wants to hunt the 12 elites, and then at the end have Ragna hunt him. Issue being Ragna hates Crimson, because Crimson is absolutely evil. More evil the 12 elites but also more pragmatic to reel it in. The power system of the world is simple and described well so fights make sense. The real most amazing part here is the art and the concept behind fights. Probably the BEST ART of any manga on this entire list. From silly cute gags like the MC’s head being a sword or tsundere love antics to Crimson’s face as he commits a warcrime. As for one of the many amazing fight portrayls I while mention a time where Ragna has to fight an enemy for NINE SECONDS. So the whole chapter takes place over 9 seconds and there is a countdown timer in every other panel. FUCKING SUGOII.

#The Reincarnation Magician Of The Inferior Eyes #Revival Game of Wandering Reincarnations #Do You Think Someone Like You Could Defeat the Demon Lord? #Start a leisurely lord life with a plant magic cheat After farming with the knowledge of the previous life a reversal life began #The Principle of a Philosopher by Eternal Fool Asley #Exceeding limits can only be handled by reincarnated people #Saikyou Juzoku Tensei: Majutsu Otaku no Risoukyou #Shadow Hero's Daily Life #The Abandoned Hero is Going Home #Shokei Shoujo no Ikirumichi #Even Though I'm a Former Noble and a Single Mother My Daughters Are Too Cute and Working as an Adventurer Isn’t Too Much of a Hassle #Vermeil in Gold #Ragna Crimson