#2-Fluid Ounces | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfjackle-creates · 2 months

Text

Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 4

Here's everything I shared during the ask game event with some minor edits. Most of the edits are around the results of the scan, I more accurately described what I was trying to say.

Story Summary: Everything changed the evening Jason met Jazz's brother. Danny introduced him and his entire family to the ghost that is, apparently, haunting him. The ghost of the Robin he had been.

The ghost of the person everyone he's ever known wishes he still was.

All he wants is to make it go away.

Arc 1: First, Last

Arc 2: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Frostbite looked between them and hummed. “I should like a blood sample from you”—he nodded to Jason—“and an ectoplasm sample from you”—he indicated the ghost—“please hold out one of your arms.”

Jason sighed and gave his left arm. The yeti took out a syringe, thankfully a normal sized one, though it looked tiny in his giant hands. He watched as Frostbite carefully pierced his vein and filled a vial with blood. It went as smoothly as any blood draw he’d ever received from Dr. Thompkins or Alfred.

“You’re good at that,” he commented.

The yeti gave him an amused look. “I should hope so. I have been a doctor for many times longer than you’ve been alive.”

Jason flushed. “Sorry, it’s just… I wasn’t sure how many living patients you’ve ever had.”

“Many ghosts come to us for healing. And of those who were once alive, their ghostly bodies often mimic the ones they had in life. It is not so different, drawing blood from a living body as it is drawing ectoplasm from a ghostly one.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. I didn’t realize.”

Frostbite ruffled his hair and it took every ounce of self control he had to not pull away. “That is quite all right. You will learn in time.”

Jason had to bite his tongue to keep from saying he didn’t want to learn.

But the doctor was already turning to the interloper and reaching for his arm. Jason couldn’t help but watch as they made more of those chirps and trills at each other. The ones from Frostbite were much deeper than the ones from Danny or the ghost, but they were unmistakably the same sort of noises.

When Frostbite took the ectoplasm sample, it really didn’t look any different than a normal blood draw. Except the resulting fluid was bright Lazarus-green. He shuddered and looked away.

Frostbite pulled out what looked like a transparent tablet and typed something on it. “A technician will be along shortly to collect the samples and run a few tests on them. Now, Prince Phantom said he scanned you and it showed the two of you are tied together. I should like to repeat the process but with our own scanners.”

“What do your scanners do?” asked Jason.

“I will show you. See this machine?” Frostbite indicated a machine that was positioned in the corner of the room. It looked like an old-fashioned x-ray machine you might find at a dentists’ office. It was about the size of a standing shower and was mostly open. “This part here”—he touched a piece of metal that reached from floor to ceiling—“will circle around the two of you and track your ectoplasm. It serves a similar purpose in ghost anatomy to an x-ray of a human. From the readings, I will be able to assess your core, young Robin, and your liminality, Sir Jason.”

“Just Jason, please.”

“Are you not a warrior of your people? And you are courting Princess Jasmine. No, to call you anything else would be improper.”

Jason flushed. “Then what should I call you? Aren’t you the leader here? Is it King Frostbite?”

“You may call me Doctor or Chief Frostbite should you wish.”

“You’ve got it, Dr. Frostbite. So will you have to scan us together? Doesn’t look like there’s a lot of room in there.”

Frostbite hummed. “I believe three full scans, one of each of you alone and one with both of you together. I apologize for the size; this is the first time we’ve had to scan two individuals together like this.”

Jason scowled, but didn’t comment. He would do anything to get rid of the interloper.

Before they could start, however, a knock sounded on the door. Frostbite opened it to reveal two more yetis.

“Ah, Silverclaw and Snowfur. Thank you for getting here so quickly.” He grabbed the vials of blood and ectoplasm. “These are the samples I want tested.”

“Of course, Chief. We’ll get to work on them right away.”

“I know you will. Thank you.” Frostbite nodded his farewell. Once the two yetis had left, he shut the door and turned back to Jason and the ghost. “Which of you would like to get scanned first?”

Before Jason could even think of volunteering, the ghost let out a trill and flew to the machine.

Frostbite chuckled. “Very well, young one. I shall begin the process shortly. Please remain still as the scan is in progress.”

Jason watched, curious, as Frostbite pressed a few buttons. The machine whirred to life, blue lines lighting up along the metal. Then the panel Frostbite had pointed out before slowly rotated around the ghost. Five times it completed the circuit before stopping in it’s original position by the wall.

A screen lit up on the wall, also transparent like the tablet, and on it images very much like a human x-ray appeared. Only instead of bones, it showed a ball of red-orange light. Tendrils spread out in the shape of a humanoid body. A thick cord of light extended off the screen. The cord was mostly gray and it’s tendrils wound around the red-orange ball and mixed in with the branches that made up the rest of the ghost’s body.

Frostbite hummed, but didn’t comment further, and Jason didn’t know him well enough to know if it was a good or bad hum. “Sir Jason, it is your turn.”

The ghost flew out of the scanner and Jason entered. “Will it feel like anything?”

The doctor shook his head. “Indeed not. You may hear a humming, but the scan itself will not affect you in any other way.”

“So I just need to stand here for a minute while it goes?”

“Indeed. Simply remain still. Are you ready?”

Jason took a deep breath and stood tall, arms by his side. “Go ahead.”

Frostbite hit a button and the device lit up with the same blue light he’d seen before. Then the scanner began rotating around him. As the yeti had promised, he didn’t feel anything but the hum of the machine.

And soon enough, it settled back into its rest position.

Jason didn’t wait for permission before stepping out and taking a look at the results of the scan. The same cord of light that had been coming off the ghost seemed to be stretching to him. Tendrils of it wrapped around the areas where his heart and brain would be if the scan showed human organs. Thinner tendrils stretched through the rest of his body, but the majority clustered around his heart and brain. His light was mostly gray with the red and orange bleeding in.

Chills ran down his spine. The ghost had integrated himself entirely into Jason’s body. Would it even be possible to get rid of him without killing himself? But could he go on living knowing that the interloper, no, the parasite was tied so closely to him? He’d finally started to move on from his death and the anger!

“Calm down, Sir Jason.” Frostbite’s steady voice cut through his thoughts. “We have one more scan and then I shall explain my theories as to what is going on and how we might address the situation.”

Jason gave a single nod and unclenched his fists. He closed his eyes and took a few seconds to go through a breathing exercise Jazz had taught him. “Fine,” he said when he was sure he wouldn’t start throwing out cursed.

Didn’t stop him from stomping over to the scanner.

Frostbite rested one giant paw on his head for a moment. “I understand this is a lot for you. But I will assist you to the best of my abilities.” He glanced away from Jason towards the interloper. “Both of you.”

Jason frowned but didn’t bother mentioning that that was what he was worried about.

“Now, young Robin. If you could come here as well.”

Frostbite took a moment arranging Jason and the ghost within the scanner. This was the closest Jason had been to the interloper since he learned about his existence and the proximity raised goosebumps on his arm. Why did things like this always have to happen to him? He hated it. He just wanted to go back to arguing with Bruce and trading insults with Tim and pranking Dick. But he couldn’t do that if the ghost of who he’d used to be was following him everywhere.

Jason closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the creature’s stupid uniform or too-young face.

Then the humming started again and Jason could only assume he the scanner was running. He held entirely still, both because the scanner needed it and because he and the ghost were so close that if he moved, they might brush arms or touch.

He held back a shudder and didn’t open his eyes until the humming had stopped.

He couldn’t have said who evacuated the scanner first, they both rushed out quickly and set themselves up on either side of Frostbite while the image loaded.

As predicted, it was as if the two previous scans had been put together. The cord connecting Jason and the ghost was thick and strong. It originated from what Jason could only assume was the ghost’s core and spread out until it latched onto Jason’s brain and heart.

Frostbite hummed again. “I will need to ask both of you some questions that you may not want to answer. I apologize in advance for any discomfort my questions may cause. But let us get comfortable first. Afterwards, I shall explain my suspicions.”

Jason nodded and took a seat on the examination bed that Frostbite gestured to. Robin crossed his legs and appeared to sit in midair. The doctor pulled up a chair for himself and settled in.

Even sitting and with Jason on a high bed, they were roughly eye-to-eye due to the yeti’s large size.

“Young Robin, what do you remember of the time between your death and Sir Jason’s resurrection?”

The ghost, of course, only replied in the trilling language, leaving Jason out of the conversation. Asshole could’ve signed if he wanted to. Jason bit his tongue to keep from saying anything, though.

After a time, Frostbite nodded and turned to Jason. “And now, Sir Jason, I must know how you were brought back to life.”

-----

Ah, Jason really isn't going to like this conversation. None of it is fun, but this conversation will be his least favorite.

And look at Robin being just as petty back! Refusing to bring Jason in on the conversation.

How will they move forward from this?

If you want notifications when I update, please check out the Subscription Post!

#dpxdc #wolf writes #anger management ship #jason todd #ghost jason #frostbite (dp)#its fun thinking of what ghost medicine might look like #ghost bio is so different from human bio #(but I did cheat a bit with the blood sample)#(its okay as long as I can justify it in story!)

101 notes · View notes

littlejuicebox · 22 days

Text

Midwinter Carol 10 / The Trunk

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 3.3K

Story navigation: [1][2][3][4] [5] [6] [7] / Click here to read on AO3.

Summary/Setting:

Fifteen years after the Ascendant and his lover went their separate ways, they run into one another at Wyll Ravengard’s Midwinter Gala. One dance is all they share. A week later, a cataclysm of events, spurned by Eirianwen’s return, uproots the life Astarion had been building for himself.

One thing is made certain: the elven sorceress is the key to any ounce of salvation he may have left, if only she stops slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass.

But old habits die hard, and old feelings are pulled to the surface for both the elves. Astarion is forced to confront the wounds of his past and deal with the damage he's done while trying to run from himself. The Ascendant is forced to decide whether he will continue on his current path or forge a new one... perhaps one that leads him back to the love of his life.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion’s past trauma

-----

“Wait, Ani,” Astarion warns when the sorceress releases his hand, her fingers ghosting across his as she walks away. She instantly starts to wander when the servants swarm them at the dungeon doors. The entire situation had caused quite a ruckus, and Astarion is caught between quelling his employees' concerns and providing them various instructions. He’s simultaneously signing something to Melga and Thrak as he tells another servant to send the maids upstairs.

In moments like this, Astarion is reminded that he is constantly surrounded by people and yet always alone. It’s his fault, he knows; he prefers to place himself above others, an easy way to ensure he will be able to look down his nose at them. He holds everyone far beneath him, apart from the one woman he keeps on a pedestal, built up in his mind like a goddess he worships and a religion only he follows.

Eirianwen glances back at Astarion, where she is paused on the stairwell leading to the second floor, and he lifts his gaze to her, quickly pointing to the ring on his finger before turning to answer another question from his steward, Pascal. The cacophony of voices and questions around him, all needing guidance, is unnerving. Ani recognizes the man Astarion is talking to, but is shocked to see how much he’s aged in fifteen years. He’s almost completely gray. Time is quite different for humans; she often forgets the luxury she has as an elf.

It gives her more time to hold grudges and run from mistakes.

She spots the ring on Astarion’s hand and then peers at her own hand resting upon the shiny oak banister, frowning down at the marred flesh. Despite his previous motion, the sorceress is still somehow shocked to see the matching band on her own finger. Her brow furrows as she continues to walk up the steps.

What had she missed? How long had she been asleep?

Questions dart through her mind faster than she can climb the grand staircase toward the room she used to share with Astarion. She’s still walking up the steps in a dazed, daydreaming state. Ani’s almost to the second floor when a sudden bolt of pain shoots through her body, culminating in the overwhelming need to vomit. But no, she couldn’t possibly do such a thing, she hasn’t eaten in—

Eirianwen retches. Hot, acrid bile spills onto the perfectly polished marble of the second floor. She’s doubled over and gasping for air when another violent spasm attacks her body and more green fluid spews from her mouth. She suddenly feels feverish as a throbbing pain pulses in her hand, igniting the entire limb in fire. Two servants rush to clean up the mess as a familiar arm comes around her shoulder.

“I don’t think you should be standing quite yet, darling,” Astarion murmurs, and without another word he sweeps Eirianwen off her feet and into his arms. He walks to the bedroom with Ani pressed into his chest; she just barely hears the rapid cadence of his heart.

He carefully places her on the chaise lounge in the bedchambers; it’s a piece of furniture she’d picked out, incidentally. They’d made love many times, in many positions, on this same chaise. He’d carried her here, wrapped around him, more times than he can remember. Recollections flash through his mind in rapid fire and he swallows as he blinks them away.

He leaves her there to speak to the servants on the landing and then quickly returns. Eirianwen feels awful. The taste of bile still sits in her mouth. When Astarion returns he breezes to the carafe next to the bed, on top of one of the side tables, and silently fills a cup with water. Then he hands it to Ani.

She drinks in silence. Gods, she’s parched. Holding the glass is difficult, never mind the weakness she feels in her hand. Her body is shaking.

“Who… who was that down in the dungeons, Astarion?” Eirianwen finally asks, her voice sounding hoarse, as she lowers the empty glass from her lips.

“Delilah. She stole the God Killer,” he replies as he gently takes the glass from the woman and places it on the side table. His brows stitch together as he watches Eirianwen. He’s never actually interacted with someone after Delilah’s poison has done its damage.

Ani’s eyes clamp shut. Her head is pounding. She’s trying to follow along, but it’s hard to think past the pain in her body. Another wave of nausea flows through her and she retches; no sooner had she made the sound than Astarion appeared at her side with a waste bin. But nothing comes, there’s nothing left to regurgitate.

“The dagger Edmund used was laced with a very potent poison. You slept through the worst of it but the effects will probably be there for a day or two longer. The rings are… working. But Delilah’s draughts are stronger than anything you’ve seen before, I’m sure. You were out for a few days, darling. Your hand…”

He trails off as his jaw clenches. He shakes his head and gently gathers Ani’s hair into a braid, to keep it out of the way should she vomit. Deft fingers perform the action without much of a thought, as if it hadn’t been fifteen years since he last styled Ani’s hair for her. “Jaheira is looking into it. She mentioned conferring with Halsin.”

He senses Eirianwen’s heartbeat spike up a fraction at the mention of Halsin, and feels that sickening twist of jealousy rise in his gut— perhaps being stabbed by the God Killer had been a moderately better feeling than that sensation— but quickly stifles it. “Now… we can talk more. But let us get cleaned up and then eat something. It’s quite a bit to discuss. Would you like to bathe first, or should I, darling?”

Astarion bathes first as Ani waits in the bedchamber. A set of servants bring her a tray of fruit to snack on while she waits, and the sustenance improves her physical state, if only a bit. Her spotted serval cat, perched upon the chaise, meows away. She listens to Umber’s ramblings and scratches distractedly at the large feline’s fur, occasionally murmuring a response or two.

When he exits the bathroom, wrapped in a plush crimson robe and toweling his hair, Astarion meets the sorceress’s gaze and notices she appears to be staring through him, lost in her own thoughts. He cocks his head to the side just slightly, brow furrowing in concern, before he asks, “Are you doing alright, Ani?”

She blinks and then snaps back into the room, her blackened hand flexing against the feline flicking its tail next to her.

“Umber says you let her sleep with you in the guest room, and that you’ve been taking care of her while I’ve been asleep. She likes the steak and lamb she’s been eating here far better than the birds and mice she eats on the road… you’re spoiling her, Astarion,” Eirianwen says with a weak smile, glancing to the side before stroking the cat’s ear. Umber purrs and then focuses her jade eyes on Astarion.

He drops the used towel in a basket at the end of the bed as he moves toward the cat and strokes a single curled finger up under her chin. The creature moves to playfully nip at his digit, affectionately holding it between four sharp canines with no intent to cause harm. This must be how Eirianwen often felt, all those years ago, with a part of her body seemingly always caught between his fangs. Doting on a dangerous creature.

“I think she would’ve preferred to sleep next to you, but Jaheira suggested it would be better to not. She’s smaller and far cleaner than Scratch— it was less of an inconvenience.”

He won’t tell Ani he actually enjoyed the company. It sounds too pitiful.

Umber releases his hand and then hops from Eirianwen’s side with a flick of her tail. She ducks and hides under the bed before emitting a meow; Ani’s brow furrows almost imperceptibly before it smooths again. After a moment, she moves to stand. Her eyes lift to examine Astarion in the process.

“Your ear is still split,” she murmurs. Eirianwen had never seen a laceration last this long on Astarion; his vampiric regeneration had always kicked in by now. Though she knew the God Killer’s capabilities, it was still unsettling to see.

Astarion begins to lift his hand to his ear, but before he makes contact, Eirianwen has her fingers pressed to his flesh. A cooling sensation spreads from lobe to tip as a spell mends the slice along his pinna. And then, almost by force of habit, Ani idly traces her finger down the edge of his ear as she pulls away.

The fleeting sensation causes Astarion to stiffen as his body flares with an unexpected wave of powerful, raw, aching desire. His heart jumps. His cock does, too.

“Mm.. do that again, darling,” Astarion purrs from where his head is resting on Ani’s lap.

Eirianwen fills the tent with a soft, melodic tinkle of laughter as she gently tugs on Astarion’s ear once more, coaxing a little moan from his lips, “Oh, you like that, do you?”

“You know I do, darling,” he responds while he palms at the bulge forming between his legs as his lover continues to methodically massage his earlobes. Astarion groans and rocks his hips forward as a small, relaxed smile spreads across his face, “and that’s why you always pretend to do it by accident when we’re in the tent.”

He was putty in her palms, easily molded by her will alone.

Eirianwen seems distracted as she pulls away from him; she hadn’t even realized what she’d just done. Astarion thinks it’s simply a small, habitual sliver of comfort she’d so routinely offered once upon a time, but it causes his breath to catch and all the same. The hope he's kept locked in his heart threatens to break from its cage. His ear feels as if it’s on fire, but when Astarion reaches up to inspect it, he finds a perfectly healed pinna.

He clears his throat and then opens his wardrobe, aiming to pull out a set of clothes for himself as he says, “I’ll speak to the servants about preparing lunch while you bathe; I’ll be in the office when you’re done. You’re welcome to borrow something of mine for today, though I know it won’t fit correctly. I’ve sent for your things from Wyll’s— I apologize, I should have sent for everything sooner.”

“Oh… it’s not a problem, Astarion,” Eirianwen responds, still lost in a fog as she walks toward the bathroom. Umber meows from under the bed once more. “Thank you.”

After calling down to the kitchen about lunch, and to secure a meal of short ribs for Umber, Astarion returns to his office. The pungent smell of lye assaults his senses and he quickly moves to toss open a window. The room appeared normal, apart from the gauzy white curtains flecked with blood. No one would think a murder occurred just an hour ago.

Astarion vaguely thinks the curtains will have to be replaced tomorrow just before his eyes settle on the mountain of paperwork precariously stacked upon his desk, all requiring his attention.

Business never quit.

He grimaces and grabs half of the hefty stack, trying to move the scrolls into a desk drawer. Surely much of it can wait; had it been truly pressing, his steward would be breathing down his neck this instant. As Astarion relocates most of the documents, the small piece of parchment Pascal delivered – gods, had it been less than 24 hours ago? – sealed with red wax and an unfamiliar sigil, flutters to the floor, catching Astarion’s attention. He’d forgotten all about it.

Long, lithe fingers retrieve the letter and deftly undo the wax fastening. Scarlet eyes run across the page and instantly narrow at the simple, foreboding message.

“You will find me in Elturel when you are desperate enough.

– Lady Lysandra Morgan”

Astarion re-reads the message. His fingers tremble as they fold the paper and shove it into his pocket. Desperate. He wasn’t desperate for anything, not even for the return of the God Killer. He had no true use for the dagger, nor any plans to use it; he’d certainly slain enough gods for an eternity by now.

But then a sudden shock of acid through his veins, beginning at the ring and shooting up his arm, pulls his mind to Eirianwen. He hears her stifle a whimper of pain through the walls. A sickening feeling begins to grow in his chest.

He fears he may already know where this path leads. He may have unknowingly carved the way for the both of them.

Astarion is scribbling his showy, looped signature on yet another scroll when Eirianwen enters the office. He turns his head to greet her, but the moment he does, his breath is stolen away and his mouth suddenly feels as if he hasn’t drunk anything in centuries.

He’s certainly used to thirst, but perhaps not like this. He’s sitting mere feet away from an oasis, longing to delve into her depths.

She’s dressed in his old camp shirt. He must have a strange look on his face, because Ani halts, frozen in place.

“I— I hope it was okay to borrow this,” Eirianwen says, looking down as she tugs at the bottom hem of the clothing piece, where it grazes just above her mid thigh.

It’s clear she isn’t wearing a brassiere. The threadbare cotton grazes against the peaks of her breasts, and the darkened patches of skin around her nipples are barely visible through the white fabric. The winter air from the still-open window has chilled the room significantly; the tiny buds hidden beneath the blouse are stiffening in response. His eyes flit across her chest and then back up to her face before she notices.

Is Ani even wearing briefs or is she entirely barren under the—

Astarion coughs and rips himself from his musings as he forces himself to tear his gaze away. He finishes signing the scroll in front of him and grabs another as he murmurs, “Yes, that's perfectly fine, darling. Though, I wonder… where on earth did you find that?”

“In the very bottom drawer of your wardrobe…” Ani starts, her voice containing a strange tinge of something he cannot identify, as she settles herself on the tufted leather sofa across the office. She focuses on her blackened hand, bringing the other hand to rub against the marred flesh. “I looked in the other wardrobe drawers but nothing else seemed… comfortable.”

Astarion hums a distracted response, continuing to place his signature on documents to avoid staring at the woman mere feet from him. There is a silence that stretches a moment too long.

“I found all the jewelry,” Eirianwen blurts, and then her hands come to cover her mouth as if she’s shocked by her own admission.

Astarion does not need to ask for clarification. She is, of course, referring to the several anonymous commissions he’d made over the years from her parents in Silverymoon. A trunk full of never worn, customized pieces had been locked and tucked away under his bed, until now, when Eirianwen presumably ripped it from its hiding place. The contents alone must be worth close to half a million gold. He’d spent nearly the entire first year’s worth of blood money on unneeded jewelry, designed for someone that would not be around to wear it. Astarion often wondered if her parents thought about their daughter when they, unknowingly, made each piece for her, much like he thought of their daughter when he designed it.

His fingers twitch just enough to cause a wavering loop in the signature he’s scrawling. His jaw starts to clench as he stares at the parchment before him a second longer before rolling it back up and moving to yet another scroll. “What possessed you to look under my bed?”

“Umber,” Eirianwen explains hastily, “she… she said it smelt like my parents under your bed. And, of course, I really had no idea what on earth she meant but she was insistent and— and—“

Ani stops, her eyes shutting and fingers coming to press into the lids as she tries to form a question from scattered thoughts. Astarion chews his own cheek as he considers how to answer the question she isn’t able to ask, and then he lifts his eyes to look at Eirianwen as he taps the quill upon the desk once, twice, thrice. She opens her eyes to meet his gaze, and he offers a simple half-shrug… his face is unreadable.

“After I performed the Rite and you almost died in the dungeons, I promised I would always take care of you, Ani… did I not? I am not one to make a promise lightly; you, better than anyone, know that.”

A gust of air blows through the open office window and grazes against the bloodied curtains, causing them to drift from the windowpane as the two elves stare at each other. Eirianwen sucks her lower lip between her teeth but says nothing.

“I…” Astarion sighs and shoots his eyes up to the ceiling as his fingers twist the snowflake signet pinky ring, the only commissioned piece he actually wears, “I… hope the money was… helpful in your travels. I know you had expressed wanting to travel together after— but…”

He trails off, forcing his eyes from the ceiling and back to meet Eirianwen’s gaze. He cannot actually meet her eyes, so he focuses on his favorite vitiligo patch instead. He is horrible at this. This should not be as hard as it is.

Ani nods and then opens her mouth to respond, but she is interrupted by Pascal breezing into the doorframe with a thick ledger in one hand. He doesn’t peer up from the document as he says, “Lord Ancunin, lunch will be served in the solarium in ten minutes as you requested. Thrak and Melga are currently burning the spawn’s corpse—“

“Thank you, Pascal,” Astarion interrupts, his tone tight with irritation. The steward glaces up, confused about why he is the recipient of his boss’s ire. But his eyes widen in realization when he spots Eirianwen in the room. He snaps the ledger shut.

“Apologies,” he murmurs, and after an awkward pause, inhales a sharp breath before saying, “Lord Ancunin, when you have a moment, I’ll need to go over the ledger with you. I have some… concerns.”

Pascal makes to leave the door frame, and at the last moment pauses and turns to address the sorceress, “Good to see you awake, Lady Eirianwen.”

“Spawn corpse?” Eirianwen asks, whatever warmth had grown in her chest toward Astarion instantly freezing over as Pascal disappears from the doorframe, calling after one of the servants as he goes.

Astarion rakes his hand through his hair and nods with a grimace. He cannot ever outrun the mistakes of his past when the woman before him remembers every single one. He is thankful that she is not running away, at least. “Yes, but– darling, like I said, we have a lot to talk about. Lunch first. You haven’t eaten in days, and we cannot have this discussion until you eat. Please, Ani.”

He only ever says please when he's desperate; he's delaying the inevitable, he knows. But can he not pretend for a moment longer, before fifteen years of hurt cuts him to the bone? He’d already survived death from some version of Eirianwen today, he isn’t certain he can survive a condemnation for his mistakes from this version, too.

But, he supposes, he has no choice. When it comes to her, it unfortunately seems as if he never does have a true choice, at least not if he wants to keep her within his orbit. He has always been putty in her palms, easily molded by her will alone.

----

Tags: @anukulee @viowolf

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x original female character #midwinter carol #ascended astarion arc #ascended astarion #ascendedstar #ascended astarion fic

51 notes · View notes

kbkirtley · 4 months

Text

Nightwing has always been a favorite character of mine, but I mainly steered away from the Batfamily generally because Batman/Bruce isn’t a character I gravitate towards. Over the last year, though, I’ve watched/read a lot of the rest of the fam through different shows, Nightwing comics, Batgirls comics, and Wayne Family Adventures. Here is my definitive ranking of the Batfamily*:

Tier Seven: A Literal Murderer

10. Red Hood - Jason Todd

Y’all know he kills people right? Every other post I see about him on here is talking about him being a cinnamon roll or a perfect gentleman and it seems to get lost that he walks around shooting people with regularity. Doesn’t even seem particularly remorseful about it. I get that you died, man, but like half the heroes in DC have died at some point and they’re not filling people with lead. You’d think with all his money, Bruce could send his kids to see a therapist but I guess that’s a lot to ask of a man who processed his own grief and trauma by dressing up like a bat to fight thieves and muggers.

Tier Six: You Couldn’t Pay Me All of Bruce Wayne’s Money to Stay in a Room with Them for Five Minutes

9. Batman - Bruce Wayne

8. Red Robin - Tim Drake

I find both Bruce and Tim to be pretty insufferable. They’re smart but not smart enough to realize how to be smart without being a dick about it. Too clever for their own good and while they’re ranked higher here than Jason, I’d still much rather be in a room with Jason than either of them. Death would be welcomed if my alternative was having to listen to Bruce or Tim talk for more than fifteen seconds.

Tier Five: Need More Data Points

7. Signal - Duke Thomas

I basically only know Duke from WFA which is a fun series but doesn’t give me a ton to go off of big picture. Jury’s still out but I like his odds of not slipping.

Tier Four: Children Get Benefit of Doubt

6. Robin - Damian Wayne

Damian annoys me but in his defense, he is a literal child that was raised by assassins. He gets this spot because of extenuating circumstances and his relationships with Dick and Jon Kent.

Tier Three: The Batgirls

5. Spoiler - Steph Brown

4. Orphan - Cass Caín

3. Oracle - Barbara Gordon

I would be willing to die for any of these characters but they would never let that happen. Probably the most fluid tier. Have more connection to Babs because of my intro to the Batfamily primarily coming from Dick. Cass is second here largely because of her and Dick being perfect together in WFA. Steph lost the straw poll but could easily be third the next time I do this with little effort.

Tier Two: The Billionaire Butler

2. Alfred Pennyworth

The actual father figure of the Batfamily. Every ounce of every one of the Batfamily members success as actual humans is because of Alfred. Batman may have made them all good crime fighters, but Alfred made them good people. Alfred made them heroes.

Tier One: Boy Wonder

1. Nightwing - Dick Grayson

This was always going to be number one. It was never a question. Dick is my favorite superhero and quite possibly my favorite fictional character in general. He was never not winning this ranking.

*Only doing characters I’m mostly familiar with so if someone is missing I just don’t have enough connection to them yet - feel free to send recs to know them better!

100 notes · View notes

canadian-pug-cartel · 11 months

Text

Ok I did the math shocking i know

Noir REGULARLY drinks egg creams right?

DO YOU KMOW HOW MUCH EGGS COST IN THE 1930s? THIS IS THE HEIGHT OF THE GREAT DEPRESSION WERE TALKING ABOUT

3$ PER EGG

.15¢ IN 1933 IS 3 FUCKING DOLLARS

NOW IF WERE TAKING INTO CONSIDERATION THE SIZE OF THE GLASS HE IS DRINKING FROM LETS SO 12 FLUID OUNCES EACH EGG IS ONLY ABOUT 2 FLUID OUNCES ( rounding up of course(and also assuming that the barkeep fills his glass to the brim and uses the yolk)) IN THE 1930s THIS WOULD COST $9 TODAY THAT EQUALS $210

So let’s say he gets it each day on a regular working schedule 5 days a week that is $45 in 1933

Take a FUCKING GUESS WHAT IT IS IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2023?

$1,050

HE IS NEVER MAKING THAT MUCH MONEY EVER

BUT

IF WE TAKE INTO CONSIDERATION THE BARKEED DOSENT USE THE YOLKS THAT IS ONLY 1 FLUID OUNCE PER EGG

COSTING $18 IN 1933 AND $420 (nice) IN 2023

THEN TAKING THE 5 DAYS A WEEK BACK INTO ACCOUNT THIS EGG ADDICTION EQUALS

$2,100

Too. Fucking. Much

#into the spider verse #Spider-Man noir #spider noir #peter benjamin parker #i know this is stupid #BUT LISTEN

154 notes · View notes

booksbeansandcandles · 8 months

Text

With cold and flu season fast approaching, I want to post herbal recipes I am finding. These are not mine, and not medical advice!!!

Plant Origins of Thieves Oil

Clove: clove buds originate from the evergreen tree Syzygium aromaticum or Eugenia caryophyllata. These flower buds contain up to 20 percent essential oil, and are incredibly pungent, thanks to the major active chemical component called eugenol.

Rosemary: rosemary is a popular herb that comes from a small evergreen plant that belong to the mint family. It is native to the Mediterranean region, and possesses strong anti-inflammatory properties .

Eucalyptus: eucalyptus trees are native to Australia, Tasmania, and nearby islands. They’re the popular plant exclusively enjoyed by koala bears, and come in many different species. The oil is derived from the leaf of the eucalyptus tree, and is commonly used in cold remedies.

Cinnamon: cinnamon oil and the dried spice cinnamon both come from the bark of the true cinnamon tree (Cinnamomum zeylanicum). Essential oils that come from the leaf, bark and root of the cinnamon tree are much different, but the most common used version in Thieves oil is the cinnamon leaf. The active component in cinnamon bark essential oil is cinnamaldehyde.

Lemon: lemons come from a small tree in the Rutacea family. Lemon essential oil is derived by cold-pressing the peel of the lemon fruit, which is rich in different phytonutrients and beneficial compounds.

Thieves Oil Recipe

As long as you have all of the necessary essential oils on hand, you can easily make your own version of Thieves oil at home.

Ingredients: Master Blend

80 drops of clove essential oil

70 drops of lemon essential oil

40 drops of cinnamon essential oil

30 drops of eucalyptus essential oil

20 drops of rosemary essential oil

Method:

Combine all of the above essential oils in a dark amber coloured 15 milliliter (0.5 fluid ounce) glass bottle. Make sure you store it a cool, dry place, away from heat and light.

Benefits and Uses of Thieves Oil

This thieves oil recipe can be used to address certain health ailments, check out the benefits and uses below! Not medical advice

1. Relief from Aches and Pains

This Thieves oil recipe is loaded with plenty of anti-inflammatories to ease muscular and joint aches and pains. Rosemary and eucalyptus oil have actually been found to relieve rheumatoid arthritis, as well as muscle and joint aches and pains. You can dilute Thieves oil in a carrier oil (like jojoba oil, almond oil or grapeseed oil) to be used topically on the ache or pain. Typically the ratio is 1 drop essential oil to 4 drops carrier oil.

2. Immune System Support

Thieves oil was used to protect the “thieves” from the Black Plague, so you can be rest-assured that this oil provides some hefty immune support. Clove and rosemary essential oils are powerful antibacterials and anti-fungals. They’ve both been shown to have significant anti-microbial effects against dangerous bacteria like Staphylococcus epidermidis, Escherichia coli, and Candida albicans.

Massage the blend on your feet, lower back, neck and behind your ears for daily immune support. You can also diffuse Thieves oil to allow the essential oil molecules to enter your blood stream after they’ve entered your lungs! To get Thieves oil into your lungs is to diffuse the oil in a diffuser. Diffuse 15-20 drops of Thieves oil for 15 minutes, 3-4 times a day.

By live life fruit.

#witchcraft #witchy vibes #witch aesthetic #witchy #witchblr #witchythings #witches #witch #spells #witchcore #spellcraft #spellwork #spellcasting #witch tips #witchy herbs

70 notes · View notes

finding-flight · 8 months

Text

I nearly choked laughing when I saw this. I love that the show is putting in nods to Sir Terry.

[ID: a screenshot from Good Omens 2 showing a corked green bottle with an old-fashioned label reading "LAUDANUM. POISON. Guaranteed by C.M.O.T Dibbler & Co, Chemists." Above this, the label reads "Each fluid Ounce contains 45 1/2 Grains of Opium and 40% Alcohol."]

#Good Omens #I can't decide if DIbbler-brand laudanum would be better or worse than the regular kind #I think it might kill you just in an entirely different way than expected

81 notes · View notes

puppypawprintce · 2 months

Text

1740 words - gen

2/?

snily friendship, nightmares, severus loving potions class, angst

cw: self loathing

ao3 link if you'd prefer ♡

One, two, three, four - four ounces of Moondew, the herbal green fluid joining its brethren of finely pulverized Unicorn Horn, Syrup of Hellebore, and Stewed Mandrake. The greenish blue substance simmers in the cauldron. Severus couldn't be more focused if he tried, his careful hand stirs its contents while slowly adding in 12 ounces of Honeywater. It beginning to shift to a much warmer shade of amber. The sweat beads by his brow and the steam emanating makes his skin feel false, like wax paper, disgusting.

There are an abysmal amount of ways to screw up an elixir, and he'll be damned if any of the infinite creep up on him today.

When he woke up this morning he'd been excited-an immensely rare sight for the student-to work on his potion of anti-paralysis. Something about it all intrigued him, and he knew he'd wanna pocket some bottles for safe keeping.

Professor Slughorn had begun giving him heads up on what his class had in store, often lending extra books and indulging in the boy's curiosity.

"You could be a great Potions master one day you know." And Severus had known, being one of the only people to carry around tiny bottles of his own creation was somewhat of an ego booster. All the more fun in Herbology and all the more easy to take care of himself.

Maybe just 4 this time.

Other students in the room seem bored, not meeting much a reason to be brewing such a potion in the first place. It must be nice to walk in for the grade alone; Severus finishes pouring his honey-like antidote and runs his fingers through his hair. Everything always feels so sticky around cauldrons, his wrists hurt.

"Okay everyone, clean up for today." Slughorn's voice flits past Severus' ears, crackly and friendly as ever. "Keep this recipe in your repertoire.. Never know when Petrificus Totalus may sneak up on you."

What an understatement. Severus wouldn't be leaving Slytherin Dungeon on Sunday unless absolutely necessary, He wrings his hands and envisions a peaceful evening ahead of him, Saturdays bringing a sense of calm. It's just a trek back to his room and he can finally fall to his pillow and take a nap.

"Hey Sev." Lily's velvet voice acts as an invisible wall he walks into. Her eyes meet his as he takes a second to really catch up in his mind, and Lily's hands fall on his shoulders like knocking over old books. She just barely exceeds him in height, her freckles highlighted by the scattered warmth in her cheeks. "You look exhausted! Did you sleep at all?"

"I slept." He answers, voice croaking like he hadn't been awake the past hour. "Not enough though. I've been planning a long nap all day."

The arms of a warm floral cinnamon hold him tight and it's oh–so familiar. Everytime Lily hugs him, Severus doesn't quite know what to do. Does he hold her back? Would it be embarrassing for her if his hands grazed her hair and does she ever stop to think that it may ruin her reputation to be seen with whatever he is—so close to her lungs and– Why can't he just live in the moment? She always sees right through him in a way that no one else does. Perhaps it's because they've known each other for so long.. Perhaps he's just not the best at hiding his shadow. It's so easy to know a terrible person when Heaven on Earth stands directly next to you.

"I've been having some nightmares. Not too many, but some." His shoulders stay tense. There's never enough time with her, even if he were capable of simply standing here with more confidence he'd still have that voice in the back of his head screaming into the canal that connects his ear and up to his eyes and through every vein that reaches his brain. Spilling acid of it's disgusting to be seen and you ruin everything you touch. It's a shame really, his work in class shows otherwise. Good wizard, bad person. Nothing can change that.

She squeezes him ever so slightly, her fingers going to pet his hair before she brings him back to an arms length apart. There's a face of worry; he hates when she looks at him like that.

"I'm sorry." It's not fair, sleeping is supposed to be a time to rest. The one time when nothing else matters except just laying there unmoving, and trying not to go crazy when the loneliness veers its ugly claws. "Mind if i ask what about?"

Severus shakes his head. It's not like he has to hide this sort of stuff from her.

"It's just mum. She's much busier now, I never know when I'll see her. If it's for one month or one minute." Chest rising and falling, he doesn't expect to feel his throat tighten. He only cries when he's tired. "Sorry I need to go."

"Naptime?"

Please take care of yourself.

He nods and whispers a quiet "see you later" before quickly finding his way around the Hogwarts corridors. It always feels empty when he runs away from her, and whenever she says goodbye. He's always hoping for something better to come up, but he knows it's not logical to think that way. To wish and wish for anything to become perfect, for his life to grow into something he's not and will never be, for things to be different.

Reaching the common room, Severus doesn't say a word to anyone. He heads straight past leather sofas and flickering lamps, through the diamond-shaped door. He lands in the carpet of his room and the way his body hits his mattress feels like a rolling pin grading on his bones 10 times over. He'd exerted himself today, and it hadn't even been a full day's worth of classes.

Counting to 112, his hands grip the 2 layers of blanket he's buried himself in and the world around fades to a depressing gray, warm but far from inviting. Sometimes he wishes for a cat to accompany him with soft paws and a gentle purr.

Other times he just wants to stay asleep 'til Christmas comes.

______

Waves and waves of saltwater fight to pull him under, stinging his eyes and blocking his breath but he can't let them win. It's not a choice, but a responsibility, his long sleeves make it exceedingly hard to move and when he reaches this small puppy in front of him he's counting to 100 hoping they'll reach the shoreline before his lungs and limbs give out. She's shaking, and all he can do is wonder where his mother is.

Eileen had been in the water too, the fury of nature's pool hoisting uncertainty in every direction. Severus looks around, running past several people he can't recognize and it's starting to frighten him. Where'd she go? Is the beating heart he's carrying in his arms meant to be here? It's all a haze, a dreary haze.

They're all suddenly together, Severus ripping the paper wrapper off his straw and their waitress brings in a rack of many books. Eileen doesn't seem to even see Severus, she chatters and laughs but doesn't quite look at him, his brain hammers and drills and he just wants her to say 'I've missed you.'

You don't want to be here do you?

It hurts, hurts more than the water pulling him under and the times he's fallen down the stairs when wanting to skip out on Church and she still won't look at him. It's only when they're in his room and he runs into her arms that her voice is aimed directly at him, the small form she can barely hold on to.

"Why do you wish to be around me when I've been so wrong?"

Severus can't stop crying.

"I miss you. It doesn't matter what you've done, I still miss you."

This hug feels like he's fallen into their burning fireplace in the dead of Winter. He knows she's slipping away. She's always slipping away.

"I can't.."

His head pounds. The feeling of chills play through his shoulders and up his neck, it's a wonder that he's still submerged in fabric of green and silver. He can feel his eyes straining with remnants of salt when he opens them and it's only a little shocking when a rough palm collides with his forehead.

"You haven't got a fever, at least I don't think.."

Regulus has no sense of personal space.

"I'm not sick," Severus responds in such a way, he doesn't know if it's even audible. "Head.. hurts."

As if he were struck by lightning Regulus flings his entire arm back to then hang by his waist, presumably what he'd be doing if he hadn't gone to check Sev's temp status. His place next to his roommate's bed is awkward, and Severus is too wracked with leftover pain and confusion to care.

"Is it 7 already?"

"Nuh uh. Still 5:30." Regulus checks his wrist as if he remembered to bring his watch to school this term.

"More sleep."

And then Severus is out again, the tension in his forehead fading once he's breathing steadily and Regulus can't help but stare for longer than any normal person would. Disgust rises in himself because he doesn't feel like he should bear witness - he sighs out with thoughts racing. It'd be so easy to tease him for everything, but easy isn't what he's about. It's not like he's out to start wars. Only out to finish them.

Everburning candles lead the way out of the room in their spot on the small coffee table, almost like a glowing sign pointing him out. No one else is in here, though that shouldn't surprise him. Leave it to Severus to be the only Slytherin avoiding everyone else like the plague.

Once he can't justify standing around any longer, Regulus picks up a small book from under his bed and snakes his way back out from whence he came. A grimace forms on his face when the door has the audacity to screech and his head whips back to make sure it hadn't been a disturbance. Pangs of empathy, it's not something he knows yet. But maybe one day it'll make sense. And maybe someday it won't feel weird, weird that he stared with not much reason.

He's gotta write this all down.

#severus snape #young severus #pro snape #hp fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #lily evans #snily friendship #regulus black #sev has nightmares and sleep issues #esi writing!

18 notes · View notes

mspaintjade · 2 months

Note

Oh, I’ve never heard of a pumpkin chili before! Sounds tasty :P what else does this chili of your comprise of? :?

[I] Jake: Take down tomatoes.

JAKE: Well the one I have calls for

2 pounds ground beef

1 large onion, diced

1 green bell pepper, diced

2 (15 ounce) cans kidney beans, drained

1 (46 fluid ounce) can tomato juice

1 (28 ounce) can peeled and diced tomatoes with juice

½ cup canned pumpkin puree

1 tablespoon pumpkin pie spice

1 tablespoon chili powder

¼ cup white sugar

JAKE: But I'm a bit... limited! JAKE: So we'll see what I can cook up!

> [I] Jake: Get "May be beef" and check ingredients.

#homestuck ask blog #homestuck #jake english

14 notes · View notes

birdy-the-tweet · 5 months

Text

❄️•Nexocember•❄️

Day 2 - Nexo Power

So I wasn’t able to come up with a drawing, but instead, I’ll take a dive at a writing piece! I swear I’ll get the first episode to the Nexo Knights rewrite finished soon, but until then, enjoy a little tidbit of Dragon Paladin (Macy and Clay).

Yes I call them Dragon Paladin, I love me DnD puns in the knights' duo names whether platonic or romantic.

————————————————————————

Time Stamp: S1 E2 - The Book of Monsters Pt. 2

8:58 PM

Clay fell harder than a boulder to the surface of his bed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity of routine and rotary races against the clock for mandatory workouts, exhaustion had finally taken a toll on his psyche. If his body were non-Newtonian, he would've melted through the sheets and not given a fluid ounce of care for it. But it wasn't because of the abrupt standoff at the gates of Knightonia against the repulsive forces of Jestro, nor was it the hours of festivities spent after their victory in the ballroom of the palace. As much as all his persistence in knight training and stress to remain top of his class cracked at the glass case shielding his mental strain from the world, neither of those jarring events came close to the reason he wanted to sleep like the dead.

No, the reason he - like all the other classmates he joined forces with - felt this exhausted was because of the Nexo power.

He hadn't the slightest clue what a "Nexo Scan" even was until the climax of their battle. Against all odds, when the enemy outnumbered them a dozen to one and mocked their defensive stances with their maniacal cackling, an odd request provided them a second chance to win the fight. They each lifted their shields in the air. He remembered how strange that demand was, especially from a freshman like Ava. Never would he doubt her intelligence, but he had every reason to question her motives when his ankles were becoming worn chew toys for spherical lava pests. And out of the blue, a surge of energy pulsed through them stronger than his record of eight espresso shots in a single latte. His vision blurred to a golden hue, illuminating every threat in his view as a neon violet target. He swore every swing of his sword could crush steel effortlessly with how he mopped the Knightonia bridge with the dark mist of fallen monsters.

It took everything in him not to collapse in front of the palace doors when he returned with his group in triumph, and he had to use Macy as a crutch for the majority of the celebration following the fight. Great bird of the storm, he was tired. No amount of sword training or weight lifting could prepare him for what a real battle was like. Merlok was right. So was Dauntless. Just because they were graduates at the academy doesn't mean they know everything about being a true knight of the realm. Experience was the greatest teacher, and it sure did love biting everyone in the neck today.

Clay could tell the others were worse for wear as well judging from how they also struggled to stay awake during the party. Aaron had to be dismissed early after blacking out, something he never did even when challenging dehydration, and Macy almost used her slice of shepherd's pie as a pillow. The spell- scan- module- whatever it was, it had an effect on all of them except for Dauntless, but he didn't bother questioning why. He was already experienced in combat and probably fought worse foes in the open world. This was probably a warm-up in their eyes.

He could hear Macy and Lance bickering in the hallway over a heated blanket, the only one available apparently in a giant palace befitting a hundred human staff, a royal family, and double the number in Squirebots. If he were to assume, the blanket they had chosen was gold, therefore it meant something to the nobleman like a coin of copper to an orphaned child. Both knights sounded hoarse in their speech, slurred by an unexpected lesson in combat and endurance. Macy somehow sounded more gruff when she threw logic at Lance's face like the bits of confetti you could never get out of your hair, and Lance insisted he deserved a treat after being exalted as a hero of the realm for many hours past his bedtime. A part of him, for once in his life, hoped Lance would win that argument. It would mean Macy would spend the night with him, and he could use a friend right now.

He rested within the confines of the princess's bedroom, the place he had taken refuge for the night after Macy insisted he would be treated with "friendship privileges" instead of taking a guest bedroom. He had to admit he felt spoiled, but he could get used to the luxury. Her bed was layered in the finest fur blankets and silk sheets, most of which were folded neatly at the foot minus a single fleece comforter she used and worn down over a decade of sleepovers and wrestling matches. There were a lot of fond memories on that blanket. Heavy eyes painfully tugged open to glance at a smudge of purple permanently staining the short fuzz of the blanket's pelt. They smeared blackcurrant jam while enjoying pancakes one morning, maybe two years ago. A reward for staying up all night binge watching the Ned Knightly movies and all the franchise's animated shows from worst to greatest, he remembered clearly. Macy loved that series. She could go on for hours about why it's one of the most underrated franchises in all the kingdom. Knightjago was his personal favorite, not that he'd tell anyone but her. He could still hear her nagging at him for his stupid crush on the fire knight. As of this day, they're both happy he got over that. Somewhat.

A rabbit's angry thumping could be heard in a rhythmic pattern, approaching the door at a slow but steady pace like its turtle nemesis. The footsteps were too heavy to be Lance, too light to be Dauntless, and he wasn't even sure if Aaron was any closer to being conscious than he was an hour ago. He felt the corner of his lip tug upwards at the revelation of who won that debate outside.

The door split into two segments, then retreated into the frame's hollow exit points to reveal a tall figure standing at the other side. Clay was never happier to gaze upon crimson red hair bouncing in its dramatic cheerleader ponytail as Macy dragged herself to the bed, not even caring someone was in the room with her while she removed her shirt and fished her drawers for something more comfortable. "Hey Clay..."

"Mmh," he hummed back, unfazed while his colleague undressed herself near his vicinity. They'd known each other for so long, neither of them had any reaction to seeing one another nude. Perhaps that character trait of their friendship is what convinced at least a whole grade of students they were star-crossed lovers, but really, Macy just preferred using the men's dressing room for armor donning and showers. "Tired...?"

"Yes." The red haired knight could've made the drawer her new pillow if she didn't have enough energy to rant about that one unholy topic. "It feels like a hover horse hit me."

"Maybe because one did-"

"You finish that, I'm throwing you out the window."

"Okay okay, I surrender." Clay flicked a single hand to the air as his white flag, but he could only keep it suspended for a few seconds. "Please tell me you slapped that Squirebot."

"Better! I fed it to the horse."

A sputtering string of muffled snorts unraveled into a quiet, heartwarming round of laughter, first from Clay and then infecting Macy. Her laugh was horrendous, more akin to a duck's quack after dunking its head in a bowl of spiked fruit salad that only drowned the rasp slicing her throat, but he loved it. He loved how ugly it was and how easily he could fall victim to its contagious tone.

"But hey," Macy attempted in the middle of a chortle, discarding the remnants of her work suit and slipping on a Ned Knightly tank top with the character's face painted in a stained glass art style on the front. "The knave had it coming."

To prevent another pandemic of giggles, the swordsman focused instead on inching to the other side of the bed so his friend would have room. He felt shameful for the wry smirk he knew crossed his face at a thought lingering so vividly in his mind, but he couldn't bear to keep quiet about it. "Speaking of knaves, I heard you and Lance outside."

"Oh that? Stupid prissy makeup model. I'd bite my thumb at him if I wasn't surveyed almost every waking moment of my life." She swayed like a penguin towards the bed, reaping the rewards of her social struggles as she collided right against Clay's front. "But eh, I might still do it tomorrow. I wanna see his face drop."

With jelly for arms, he wrapped both limbs carefully around her torso and squished her tenderly into the middle of his chest. He loved watching her melt into his embrace. Usually it was the other way around, but he wasn't opposed to being the bigger spoon. "You might make more mouths drop than just Lance. It's not really worth it. It's just a blanket. He'll gripe about it being too hot at some point."

"Yeah... Who needs a blanket anyways? I have you."

"Okay now you're sounding weird."

"What?? You're warm!"

"You realize if your dad walked in on this, he would assume the worst."

"Yeah... But he can't throw you out the window like I can."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"I dunno, is it?"

He dared not add anything onto her claim. There was no point detesting the comedy of their unfortunately hilarious situation. The school had assumed for four long, insufferable years they were a couple with how close and comfortable they were around each other, it had become something they embraced to the bare minimum. His worst fear of King Halbert barging into the room on a scene that could only be the intro for an adult movie was nothing more than something they made into nothing more than an inside joke. It would be funny watching the king's face take a sharp 180 at nonexistent implications. He wasn't ready for grandchildren, and fortunately for him, the both of them had no intention of bringing any into the world. For Macy, she was still searching for someone to call her own. For Clay, he wasn't necessarily interested in ever bearing kids.

The tone shifted from melancholy to serene with a synchronized sigh from them both. Juggling time management in his Tetris game for a mind, Clay muttered a subject change into her ear. "Hear anything from Aaron?"

"He's still out I think," Macy breathed back lowly. Furrowed eyes could picture the ginger haired archer and where he laid almost perfectly. "Dauntless is monitoring him constantly. Won't let anyone into the room without his say. I tried. He's not letting even my dad in."

"Mmh, makes sense. He's the only one who wasn't affected by..." His voice trailed off to forage for the right words, but all he uncovered were fragments of theories. A scan? A spell? A coding command, an incantation? Ugh. "...whatever that was."

She groaned in disgust and dread at the mere mention of the "Nexo Scan", voice trembling like a chicken in a fox den. "I still can't shake the goosebumps off from that. What even was that?? What did Merlok tell you?"

"Nothing." Not surprising. "Ava was the one who told me to lift my shield up. Then we got that... scan."

He could recall that voice perfectly. It thrummed like an ethereal engine, uttering a command so potent it frosted over his blood. 'Dragon of Justice'. Funny. He sure didn't feel like one during that fight, and he could only assume Macy wrestled with the same confusion and anxiety as he was about the scan in general.

The question he asked himself reached Macy's mouth first. "Is it gonna happen again?"

He didn't dare invoke a lie at this hour. Dishonesty would only spell more trouble for him and for his colleague. "...I'm not sure. Maybe. I'd assume so, yeah. If we gotta keep confronting Jestro like that, it's bound to happen again. Unsettling or not, it was the one thing that secured our victory on the bridge."

"But it didn't feel right. It felt... unnatural. Like something inhumane was sending jolts of electricity through my skin. It didn't hurt, but it made me feel all... weird and..." When words failed her, the princess shoved her face into the gray tinted fabric of his shirt. She always found it cute how his modesty carried over to his casual attire. It was - at least in her eyes - a fantasy to go to sleep without a shirt on, but Clay always seemed comfortable with t-shirts and sweatpants. "I don't know. I didn't like it, but it helped. A lot..."

"I know. I'm sure Merlok will better explain it once we've all recovered." Wishful thinking on his part, but hope was a powerful warrior in the face of doubt. "But you should rest. It's been a long day for everyone."

Unable to argue what she knew to be true, Macy melted further into his arms after a silent moment of contemplating the debate. Everyone was tired. She could hear it in Clay's voice, and he seldom showed his fatigue even when he'd go for days without a wink of sleep. If the armies of monsters and attacks on the kingdom persisted, they needed to be ready. Or at least, more ready than they were today. But who could blame them for that? This was supposed to be their Graduation Battlebration. Now they lost their chance to fight the automatons at the Joustdome, and they have to endure dozens of more fights with monsters and terrors and lava abominations. Now they were the heroes of the realm, the only ones throwing their pride aside to actually do their job as knights, and thousands of people are cheering for them. Now they're accountable for all those people and the harm those beasts could cause. And it's all because of-

No. She didn't want to antagonize Jestro. He was a broken man, prone to mistakes but seeking only the kindness and validation from even the people who mocked his name. This wasn't his fault, not fully. She shouldn't bear that mindset when they hardly even knew what they were truly up against.

That was a tomorrow question, just like the Nexo Scan. Macy would swallow her unease and regurgitate it tomorrow when it was a new day. Not graduation day. Not the most important day of her life. "Yeah, you're... you're right. Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm confused too. We'll get answers, I promise. Just sleep. Okay?"

After a heinous wrestle with her worries and hopes, her gaze softened, and she settled into a more comfortable position against him. "What about you though?"

"Oh I plan to sleep. I couldn't bring myself to walk to the Joustdome even if I wanted to."

She huffed at the humor in his accusation. "You're actually gonna sleep?"

"Maybe," Clay admitted. "I hope so." His voice teetered on uncertainty, knowing his sleep schedule better than anyone. "But I won't leave your side if that makes you feel better. That counts as resting, doesn't it?"

"Look who's sounding sappy now..?"

"Oh be quiet." In hopes of silencing any further claims, he squeezed her against him and sadly muffled all the laughter that was left in her system. A shame really, but if she started laughing again they would both spend the next hour incapacitated by it. They could share a joke or two in the morning when they were a little more rested. Once she eased her giggles to hibernation with a sigh, he stole the opportunity to leave a kiss on top of her head. "Good night, Macy."

"Mmh, g'night boulder brain..." And just like that, she drifted into la la land.

Or at least he hoped she did. He could never tell. Minutes collided with hours, and his perception of time blurred with his vision. By the time he was certain Macy was safe within her dreams, he could barely grasp how far into the night they were. But he did know two things. One, he would sleep for more than two hours for once.

And two, he had a lot of questions for Merlok.

#nexo knights #lego nexo knights #clay moorington #macy halbert #nexocember

17 notes · View notes