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dzamie-oc · 3 years

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06 - Mech

Ah, aren’t Synths wonderful? Modular, and you can make them do gender and sexuality in whatever way you please.

Length: 2200 words Rating: M (no sex actually happens, but genitalia are discussed a lot) Summary: A woman and her robo-derg go shopping for some parts to spice up their bedroom activities.

Minors DNI, please. It’s rated M for a reason.

-----

Lauren and her Synth, Haskell, stood at the entrance to the robotics store. It wasn’t an official outlet for his manufacturer, so they would technically be voiding his warranty, something that might have concerned them if he had still had one. As it was, however, the reason they simply stood there was less robotic and far more human.

[I told you for weeks, I’m only going in after you,] Haskell said, his primary lights a mirthful yellow against his blue and light grey plating, [watching your face go through so many emotions is well worth the delay.]

The human gently shoved him, her face hot with a blush. “Shut up, I’m getting to it.”

[Would it help if you pretended we were here to look at different parts?] The synthetic dragon took a couple steps forward, peering at the shelves. [I wonder if they’ve got a simulation link set up for a naga lower half. Oh, don’t worry, Lauren, it’s well outside of our price range, I’d only be demoing in VR. You won’t have to worry about my tail wrapping you up in your sleep any more than it already does.]

This did not in any way help Lauren’s blush, but she did stomp forward and stubbornly cross the threshold into the store. Haskell’s visor displayed blue carets for his eyes as he followed her inside. On a side thread, he bragged to other synths in their IRC chat room how positively adorable his owner looked after some well-placed teasing, and he received some encouragement, and a link to an image of a synth with a hand at the end of her tail giving him three thumbs up.

“Hey, you two!” one of the employees, a two-tailed fox, called, “good to see you again. Haskell, how’s that projector module treating you?”

“Oh, hey Shay!” Lauren replied, her nervousness instantly abated. “It’s been real useful. Now we don’t have to settle for my desktop’s monitor to watch stuff together.”

[Or my visor.]

“That was ONE TIME. Anyway, thanks for the recommendation, and... half un-thanks for telling Haskell that it’s so port-neutral.” The human jabbed a thumb towards Haskell. “Nothing quite like walking back from the bathroom to see this guy on the bed, zero legs, with a My Little Pony AMV projecting out the bottom of his torso onto the opposite wall.”

Shay looked on the verge of laughter. The blue and grey Synth scrossed his arms and turned his head up and away, while his visor displayed a gentle U shape on each side. [My taste is far beyond you organics’ comprehension. Time will vindicate me.]

“A blast and a half, I’m sure. Anyway, what brings you two back in? Looking for hardware or software?”

“Oh. Uh, hardware,” Lauren said.

[In more ways than one,] Haskell added, to a returning and deepening blush on his owner’s face.

The fox furrowed her brow, then a look of comprehension crossed her face. “Ohhh... well! Let me go grab Conny, and she’ll show you to that rather special workshop.” She strode over to a door behind the counter, stuck her head in, and shouted, “Ay Conny! Got a customer for the fun stuff! Come and get ‘em!”

A few seconds later, a synth head popped out from behind the door, pale red around a dark visor featuring a slit-pupil eye display. “The fun stuff? Oh, must be the human lady and the blue bot. Come around and follow me.”

Haskell and Lauren shared a look at the prospect of walking behind the registers, but after a moment, Haskell shrugged and followed the other Synth through the employees door, with Lauren behind him, mindful of his tail. [She pinged me over short-wave, said it’s standard enough for this sort of thing,] he explained.

Conny turned out to be not only a pale red, but an entire slightly-desaturated rainbow from head to foot. Her tail had fewer segments than Haskell’s, but was the same length, so he assumed it was some storage model. When she turned from the hallway into a side room, something rattled in her tail, and he mentally congratulated himself on the guess. The human and Synth also stepped inside, and were immediately surprised at what they saw.

It was clearly a Synth workshop, with a sturdy table, a selection of mechanical and electronic tools on one wall, and a number of wires for fast data transfer. But what was unusual to the pair was a solid half of a wall featuring artificial penises and vaginas. Haskell quickly switched his primary lights to a reddish pink to fit the room, same as he saw Conny do. Many of the genitals were clearly modeled after other species; Haskell quickly identified pairs resembling those of dolphins, wolves, nagas, and several kinds of dragon. But some were purely fantastical, or even designed to look congruous on a Synth. On the opposite wall hung various erotic chestplates, although those weren’t nearly as varied in their design. Haskell’s attention did linger on a pair that featured a port on each breast where the nipple would be on a human or anthro, and the thought spurred him to link a photo to the IRC, followed by “consider: boobs that can grab you back.” To his surprise, one of the other denizens shared that she had a model like that, and joked that she’d share photos for five bucks.

[So! My name is Delilah Conagher, but you can call me Conny,] the rainbow Synth said, [and this is where we keep the lewd. Now, you don’t have to answer this, but this is gonna be for you two? Or has...] A request for information appeared in Haskell’s comms; he let her see his name and pronouns. [Or has Haskell come with his owner, but plans to use this stuff on someone else?]

[Oh, I sure hope this is for us. Otherwise, I’m gonna be pretty let down after all that flirting we’ve done to each other.]

[Faaaaan-tastic. Now, what’re we kitting you out with?] Conny’s eyes curved up and a few twinkling stars blinked in her visor, a common sign that a Synth thought they were about to be very funny. [Are you getting a dongle, port, or rack?]

Haskell laughed, but Lauren, though smiling, looked mildly perplexed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Haskell laughed louder. Conny, however, just shook her head, though her lights fading to yellow as she did so signaled her amusement. [I could guess, but the guess with the highest accuracy is only 72%. If Haskell was using she/her, that drops all the way down to 43%.]

Now it was Haskell’s turn to be confused. His visor showed eyes looking up and away with one brow slightly down, as he remarked, [43 sounds low for four... well, five options with rack only. Surprisingly even distribution.] Lauren turned to him with a clear question on her tongue, so the Synth answered it for her, counting off on his fingers. [Dick or pussy, each with and without tits. Plus a fifth for just the tits. I’m still on the default “pan” from when we installed the sexuality software, so I happen to have saved plenty of examples to show you if you don’t believe me. Not all Synths, even. Only most.]

The human shook her head. “N- um... maybe later. But, Conny, we’re getting him a... a penis.”

Without audio, Conny sent Haskell a message saying, “Assuming only one between the legs or one set on the chest is sensible, but inaccurate. A good mechanic can do wonders.” Aloud, she addressed Lauren. [Wonderful, those are fun! And all of the designs here are made to be pleasurable to the giver and receiver - trust me on this - so there’s no bad answers, although there may be some better ones for each Synth. So, anything you’re looking for for your first one?]

“First one?”

[We’re modular,] both Synths said at once.

“Oh, right. Uh... well, I think I’ll pass on the... fleshy-looking ones. I think they’d clash with his body, and feel too different than- uh, nevermind.” As Lauren’s voice trailed off, Haskell put on a rather smug and pleased look.

Not missing a beat, Conny grabbed a small selection of more robotic-looking schlongs from the wall and set them out. [Now, this one here’s a great one, both as a first time and in general. It’s not the simplest, but it’s got a vibrate function that’s insulated from the rest of the body.] She then picked up one that looked more obviously draconic, but still with a robotic aesthetic: silvery top, glossy black underside. [And this one is far and away my favorite, both in shape and novelty. Bit on the higher end for price, though, I’ll be honest with you. Doesn’t stop it from being popular with my return customers, though.]

Lauren tentatively reached out, and Conny handed the penis to her, letting her turn it over in her hand. “I mean, it’s certainly nice, but what gives it that price?”

In reply, the rainbow Synth popped one hand off, took the dildo back, and slotted it in. After a few seconds to recognize and prepare the device, the glossy black underside revealed itself to be an RGB light, slowly fading through a few colors. Haskell stared at it. Lauren, on the other hand, had a different reaction. “No. Absolutely not. I know you, Haskell, and there’s no way I’m giving you even half a reason to try to fuck me to Caramelldansen.”

[It’d be funny, though.]

“Not happening.” She pointed to one of the others. “That one looks nice, though. Haskell, how do you feel about that one?”

The blue and grey Synth nodded. [I think I’d look rather good with that on me. If you think you’d feel good with it in you, we should give it a shot.]

Conny looked between the two of them, then nodded at Haskell. [Then just hop up on the table and I’ll get you set up. Oh, that reminds me: I can also modify your lower chassis - a couple hundred, same as other port additions - to get you a proper crotch mount or two. Assuming you’re pretty standard, the best I can do is essentially a workaround where I plug it in the rear, behind your tail, and give you some fittings to secure it around your legs and/or waist.]

“It’s not necessary, though, right?”

Haskell laid down and soon felt the weight of his tail vanish, followed by a system notification that a module had been detached. The Synth mechanic kept talking. [No, but without it, Haskell will probably need or at least want your help to get the penis on and off.]

[Sounds worth it to me,] Haskell said.

“It’s not your $200.”

[Sure it is. You did tell me I could have my own account for stuff on the side. Remember, because I was ask- whining for- hold on. I was ask- whining for video games.] He gave Lauren a flat stare. [Really?]

Lauren held her hands up. “In my defense, I had forgotten I’d done that before I promised to stop touching your admin controls without telling you. But yeah, that’s fine then. Get yourself some penis compatibility.”

[Great! Alright, doc, fix me up!] Haskell said, then slipped himself into Safe Mode.

-----

[Oh, that looks fantastic,] the Synth said, admiring his new dick, [thanks for matching it to my colors.]

[I’d be a pretty poor mechanic if I couldn’t,] Conny replied, [but thanks. Now, go ahead and disable sensitivity in the device settings, or at least drop it as low as possible.]

[Huh? Doesn’t that go against the point?]

[Some modules can be equipped in public. This is not one of them. And trust me, you don’t want that thing anywhere near the default levels when you remove it, at least not until you’re used to the sensation.]

Lauren glanced down the hallway. “Yyyyeah, let’s not traumatize whoever’s in the store and potentially find out which of us is legally liable for you going streaking.”

Haskell nodded, and after a couple seconds, pulled the penis out of its socket, then fit a grey plate over the port, hiding it.

[And this should go without saying, but there are no returns on this sort of thing. If something goes wrong, you might get a partial refund if you send us the diagnostics, but once that dick is out of the store, we don’t want it back in here.]

Lauren took the cock and gave it a curious squeeze before placing it in the bag Conny had provided. “Fair enough. And will Shay ring us up out there, or...?”

[Yep! Alright, you two, have fun out there.]

As the two left the store after paying, Haskell linked a photo of the purchase he had taken earlier to his IRC friends. Some congratulated him on a well-chosen mod, a couple of them asked him to DM photos of it equipped, and one person floated the idea of attaching two of them to that pair of breasts with ports.

All in all, a productive day, and a precursor to a hopefully unforgettable night.

#dragon #anthro #furry #synth #smaugust #smaugust 2021 #furry dragon #mech #writing #writers on tumblr #text

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oristromboli · 3 years

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If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 1

Chapter 1: Haunted Memories

In which you grapple with past events bleeding into the present.

(Smut this chapter: none)

“The arrogation of mankind ends here.”

Things became a blur after that – your wings burst forth and you saw the twins take off in opposite directions as you split down the middle. Like some dance, the three of you wove between oscillating pillars of dark shapes folding in on themselves before all converged in on the imposing woman. She was no different from any other gate, any other obstacle you needed to cross between worlds; while you were often the one to suggest the quiet and efficient route, the twins charged forward with one clear goal in mind. Two-against-one were bad odds, especially when it was you between a rock and a hard-place – or, more accurately, squeezed between one twin and the other. You pitied the god as she braced for their combined onslaught, clearly unaware of what hell would rain down-

Except. Except, suddenly, you witnessed the twins suspended in mid-air, caught and strung up for their audacity.

You didn’t think, you couldn’t think, you dove for the first twin you saw and yanked them away from that void that crept from her fingers.

Lumine looked up, shocked and horrified all at once, and indescribable shame turned to ice in your blood. While you held on to Aether, you both witnessed Lumine become swallowed in that blackness, that.. nothingness, and you could only let go of Aether as he shot forward to flank the god.

His sword was drawn and in a flash of light did it seem to make contact. You quickly joined his side with hopes to see Lumine amidst the chaos. Everything would be okay again, you three could go back to adventuring, she would forgive the split-second decision, you told yourself. That is, until you saw the god tall and proud with barely a scoff as she looked at you two without even the decency of contempt. In that moment, you suddenly understood the impulsive twins’ tempers. You both dove towards the god, weapons drawn and red in your eyes.

Wait. Wait, no, that’s not right. The red was neither your anger nor panic, but the god’s powers enclosed on you both.

“Wait! Stop! Give my sister back!” Aether cried, and you closed your eyes, wishing to all the stars above that this was all a dream and you could stop suffocating –

---

“Paimon! Paimon, get off of her,” Aether said, laughing as he lifts the fairy off of your chest and what the fuck Paimon.

“Aw, Paimon just wanted to help! She wasn’t waking up, so Paimon thought that shaking her would help,” she said, pouting as you felt her tiny paws release your shirt to only hang limply as she was carried like a sack of potatoes away from you. Emergency rations indeed.

“Okay, we need to have a serious talk about you and personal boundaries,” you mutter while you sit up, massaging feeling back into your collarbone. “If you don’t want to be designated as mascot number two behind our lil’ buddy, I suggest you start losing some weight before sitting on me.” You jerk your thumb towards Aether’s belt where a small glass ball hung and a golden Seelie flickered rhythmically. Is it snoring?

“Hey! Paimon is not mascot number two! And Aether’s cooking is too good…” she mumbles, flipping between indignant to having the gall to look somewhat guilty as she breaks free from his grasp. That didn’t last long, though, as Aether snickers with an incriminating finger poking the fairy.

“So, you admit to being our mascot?”

You very quickly tune their bickering out and set out about collecting your own bedroll before moving on to Aether’s. Most of your powers were sealed except for the few convenient ones, such as access to a subspace for storage and the ability to travel quickly within Teyvat, but otherwise, everything else was left for discovery. In that way, organizing your campsite became quick and easy work on the days that you weren’t woken by Hilichurls looking to turn your bedrolls into breakfast burritos.

Actually, scratch that. Hilichurls are better than Paimon ‘accidentally’ strangling you.

Aether’s laugh rings clear around you as he stretches his lithe body, already limber and prepared for the day. He never seemed to care much about comfortable beds – or, well, any basic comforts – but Paimon is right, he makes damn good meals. In your many months on Teyvat looking for Lumine, you both fell into a steady rhythm where he cooked and acted as a de facto leader while you archived everything you came across. Between the three – no, the two of you - you were often the one taking notes and painting the landscape around you in an effort to remember these adventures while Aether acted as the beacon of hope for the locals.

Even if Aether fills Lumine’s role easily, you can tell it was never comfortable.

You pause at that thought, glancing over to Aether who was making very exaggerated gestures to what you can only assume are his steps for Paimon à la carte. The ball holding your new friend bounces around with his movements, but the Seelie inside seemed unperturbed, if you were being honest. He never parted with the creature, and you were sure it was equally possessive of its new master.

In his own way, you think Aether tries to be subtle about it: between the Seelie’s ethereal golden glow and its headstrong personality, you can’t help but notice how he cradles the ball with a forlorn expression some nights. It was only polite to roll over in your pretend-sleep and very pointedly not comment. When he wasn’t wrapped around the ball, you laid next to him and held him as tightly in silent understanding, often falling asleep tangled like that.

The tear stains are always ignored the morning after.

You swallow around a sudden lump and turn around, fumbling for your own journal to see the next tasks for the day. Despite your own emotions, you know that Aether doesn’t blame you, he told you himself many times and says that there was only one of you. Still, you can’t help but wonder if - while he doesn’t blame you per se - he wishes it was Lumine you chose and not him. Ever the self-sacrificing big brother.

A red thread lies hidden in the page you left off, acting as a sort of make-shift bookmark. Wrapped in knots and with a sort of tender care for the regal dragon with amber eyes near the bottom is a single Starconch, dangling around with each gentle breeze. If anybody asks you, you would deny it vehemently, but you swore you could hear laughter from that conch sometimes from another big brother. Twirling the sapphire item, you can’t help the bittersweet smile that breaks out on your face against the stupid memory.

---

You decided to stray from Liyue that day, most of your daily commissions done with Aether treating Paimon to dinner afterward. Like two parents, you switched days on who gets the honors of taking the overgrown child while the other relishes in time for themselves. It was natural; though you were used to traveling as a pack, sometimes you just… needed to get away.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with that idea as you soon spied a figure lounging in the sandy beaches close to the city. When you were close enough to see the scarf billowing in the breeze, you stopped and immediately held your breath. Shit, shit, shit, did he know you were here? Maybe if you just quietly turned around, you could get away and leave the Eleventh Harbinger alone. Not that you were strangers to each other. Far from, actually, as you grew friendly with each other over the many weeks - or has it been months? Time flows differently in this world – spent together in Liyue.

“Hey, girlie,” he calls without looking your way and you freeze. Whelp, there goes that plan.

“H-hey,” you stutter, only to stop and tap your throat lightly before trying again. “Hey, Childe. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He snickers and turns then with a wide smile, yet it wasn’t as feral as you expected. If anything, he seems distant. “No, you’re fine. Looking for some peace and quiet from that stir-fry?”

“Oh, how did you know,” you say with a small smirk as you walk closer. Childe looks up at you and pats the sand next to him. No harm in that, sure, you could sit down. He was better company than Paimon at the moment, anyway. At that thought you grimace briefly, when the hell did you want to spend more time with a Fatui Harbinger? Still, you join him in watching the waters dance across the sand.

Okay, yeah, you can admit the view is gorgeous. Liyue never fails you in that regard with its mountains and crystal clear waters. The trees are always an explosion of color while the geography varies dramatically from one corner to another. You're certain Childe thought the same despite his incessant complaints about the heat.

Which, speaking of, he was unusually quiet and focused. When you glance at him, you only notice then he was thumbing a small, blue shell with a star on it. He catches your eye and holds up the conch. “Mm? This? You know, there’s an old legend in Liyue that says that if you hold the conch up to your ear, you can hear what your heart longs for,” he says as he flicks the conch to your hands. “For most, that’s the sea, of course. All the boats, all the business opportunities. Maybe you’ll hear the gremlin’s whining?”

You punch his shoulder lightly while he laughs, all the while eyeing you carefully. Maybe this was your cue to listen? However, when you hold the conch up, you didn’t hear the sea at all. Almost… suffocatingly empty, like… Your eyes widen, imperceptible to all except for damnably sharp Harbinger who you felt nudging against your foot from his own. “So? What’d you hear?”

“I hear… the ocean. The one between worlds,” you lie before you held it back out to him.

Childe guessed yours and Aether’s otherworldly - or rather, "not human" as he put it - status early on. You weren’t surprised coming from someone who carefully pointed out the use of elemental powers without visions, so you never bothered to obfuscate your stories from other realms too deeply. How Zhongli suspected, however, was beyond you at the time. The funeral consultant dismissed Aether’s questions with a lazy wave and this is no more strange than adepti in teapots.

Your companion shakes his head and wraps his gloves around yours, closing the conch into your fist.

“The ocean between worlds, huh?” Childe looks up then, something… something dark and inaccessible in his eyes again. You purse your lips and lower your eyes. “You know, I hear whales. The ones in the ocean here… They call out and follow each other,” he finishes, the pause in his sentence enough to be nearly visceral. He turns to you, eyes wicked and teeth bared in a wide smile. “Maybe they’re looking for a good kill?”

You snort. It became quite easy for you to dismiss these little moments of vulnerability, to close your eyes and forget. Ironic, considering you spent your waking days desperately trying to remember. “Maybe. Maybe there are some up there, looking for their next adventure. They’re… never alone, you know,” you murmur and ignore the curious look Childe gave you, “they have constellations all around them. To guide them home.”

“Sure,” he scoffs and stands. All of a sudden, that vulnerability was stamped underfoot like a stray pest. Did you say something wrong? Regardless, it’s unavoidable that some of the sand flies in your face from Childe’s movement, but you take the opportunity to swat him in fake annoyance nonetheless. Score one for you, zero for Fatui. Childe chuckles and offers his hand, which you take gratefully and will not comment on his tight grip while he dusted your back off, nope. You will not.

It wasn’t a long walk back to Liyue and the two of you fell into an easy banter. Well, easy for Childe since he ruthlessly pinpointed your pet peeves for exploitation, but you enjoy him nonetheless. This felt natural, dancing between the lines of friend and enemy.

Along the docks, the two of you run into Zhongli examining tapestries from a stand.

“Ah! Zhongli! What a surprise finding you here!... ” No it isn’t.

“... Just browsing, I see. What are you planning on buying?...” You mean what you are going to buy, Childe.

“... Is there anything we can help with?” Help the walking encyclopedia of Liyue? The entire time your face twists more in your incredulity at the implication of Zhongli requiring anything other than Mora. Still, you nod along, if only to hear Zhongli speak at length about the history associated. You are, after all, a curator of all things practical in knowledge.

The fact that his warm voice sends shivers to your core was just a bonus, honest.

Zhongli’s eyes shimmer as he looks at the two of you, crinkling faintly along the edges. “Indeed, I would greatly appreciate assistance in deciding which pattern to buy.” He turns back to the stand with a hand resting on his chin, and you flank Zhongli’s right while Childe goes to his left. “This design over here depicts Glaze Lilies in bloom, a wondrous sight most rare these days in Liyue. A moment preserved for all to appreciate. Over here, we see the clouds descending upon the mountains of Liyue…”

So you told yourself you were going to listen to Zhongli, but you suddenly can’t help staring at a long, crimson token. The strings appear to be woven in complicated patterns, but when you look closer, you realize that the patterns are dragon scales that meet on a wild head with Cor Lapis eyes. How curious. Once upon a time, you were sure a design like this would have adorned the walls of kings of yore, yet now it only serves as a cheap souvenir.

The single thought of pretty propels you grab it.

Of course, this does not go unnoticed by Zhongli and Childe. You felt the silence rather than heard it; in that moment, you look to their inquisitive gazes, eyes wide and face as flushed as the dragon. “I… I. I saw this and. It’s… Pretty. Pretty nice,” you lamely explain, suddenly at a loss for words when the full force of their combined gaze is set upon you. Stars and gods above, that was pathetic. Tourist trap sprung.

Childe’s smile grows indulgent and Zhongli’s tight-lipped expression never moves while his shoulders barely trembled. They… thought this was cute. Great. You purse your lips and turn away, mumbling obscenities under your breath. Still, a traitorous grin comes as you felt Childe’s hand settle on your shoulder as he not-so-subtly breaches your personal space after side-stepping the funeral consultant.

“A pretty token for a pretty girl, no?” he coos and leans forward to inspect the trinket in your hand.

“Childe possesses an expensive eye,” Zhongli agrees and his voice floods your other ear as the older man follows Childe’s lead. His rich timbre petrifies you, and you could only stand there with a white-knuckle grip while you listen to their appraisal. “In Liyue, an invisible red string is said to entwine the fate of all those caught in its distinct pattern, destined to meet regardless of time or circumstance. Never will it break, safeguarded by the divine itself. Even the tangled pandemonium it may cause would lead only to a grander, more intricate pattern at journey’s end. Perhaps this will lead you to your destination?”

“Zhongli, as much as I appreciate Liyue’s customs and stories, isn’t this a little too on the nose? Saccharine to the very end indeed,” Child snickers. Still, when he notices your crestfallen expression at his bickering, he gazes at Zhongli again before you hear your name called softly. “Hey. Let’s make a deal, yes?”

“What? No, no, no I am not making a deal with a Fauti Harbinger,” you immediately hiss and whip around. Damn the fallen Geo Archon, you will not be beholden to the whims to a Harbinger in the land that once belonged to the God of Contracts. In a desperate bid for allies, you beg your other friend, who was suddenly and conveniently interested in another token on the stand. Damn him too, you decide.

“Come on, pretty bird,” Childe says and pokes your side.

“I think I liked it better when you called me pretty girl.”

“Ah, no no, pretty bird because you always cry when the cats come over to play.”

“I do not, fuck you very much. And did you just call yourself a cat -?”

“I promise, this is a deal you’ll like. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. I’ll buy it anyway.” Childe waves his hand to the vendor to barter. Before long, he returns triumphant with the long thread in hand and gently lays it in your own in the same manner he did with the Starconch shell. “Y’ready to hear my deal?”

“No.”

“In return for me generously buying you this,” he continues, ignoring your very pointed is this how he treats you, Zhongli and the amused no, simply you in response, “I want your end of the deal to be carrying this with you, in that little journal you think we don’t see you scribbling in.”

Your face immediately flushes with indignation. “Like a bookmark? Why?”

“Because,” Childe says while he carefully wraps the end closest to the dragon’s head around the shell. By the time he’s finished, the dragon looks to be gripping the glimmering item and protective amber eyes gaze upwards to the heavens, ignorant to Zhongli’s intense scrutiny. “Because, sweet thing, I think Zhongli’s right. The Hero of Mondstadt, a Fatui Harbinger, and a funeral consultant all walk into a bar – “

“That is not how I remember our first meeting, Childe.”

“ – and forgive our dear comrade’s ignorance of Snezhnayan jokes. Point being, I don’t want you to forget this,” he says, winking when you blink owlishly. It’s hard to remember that you’re supposed to hate this man and hate his sentimentality.

“This… this is your attempt to piss me off, isn’t it? Make me never forget I’m friends with a Harbinger? Put a mark on my back that says ‘I.O.U.’?”

“Aw, now why would I do that? You wound me!” Childe pretends to be hurt before elbowing you with all the mischief you would see Aether give you before charging a Hilichurl camp. “Besides, you said it yourself, friend. I just want to be remembered. That’s the only debt you owe.”

As much as you wanted to hit Childe then, you both turn when you hear Zhongli’s rumbling chuckle. You lean forward against Zhongli opting to hit him instead and relish in his little grunt to your effort, clearly only putting on a show for humor’s sake. “Wow. Is this a gift from you too, Zhongli?”

“Hey! I paid for it!”

“Thank you,” you say fondly. “Except… Except I have nothing in return. Zhongli told me about how he gave you chopsticks, and you two gave me this – never mind how you even pay for Zhongli’s entire life. How can I…” You look down then, somber of the fact you are in the land of contracts.

(All must be fair in love and war.)

“How can I make this fair?” you settle, gazing up suddenly. Childe only laughs, characteristic of his lackadaisical attitude and oh stars you know this is going to bite you in the ass. You feel Zhongli’s hand rest on your hip and when you turn to him, he’s -

Oh gods he’s so close -

“Your company is enough, dear bird. Now come. I am in need of eyes tempered by travels outside of Liyue. It is refreshing to see these items anew.” He pivots on his heel and walks further along the docks without turning behind to check whether you and Childe would follow. You both do, of course, but not without half-hearted grumbles at his presumptuousness.

It became easier then, the bickering between you and Childe with Zhongli only stepping in when he cared enough to distract your verbal blows for opinions on his next purchase. That, of course, only led to the two of you turning on the refined gentlemen, determined to crack that stony exterior as punishment for his ridiculous disregard for money. How immature, how… childish. Damn it.

You hear your name being called. “Hey, hey, are you listening? Hey-“

---

“Heyyy!” Paimon says, floating in front of your face while Aether snaps his fingers. Blinking awake, you snap to attention. Aether had gathered the rest of your supplies, and the three of you were ready to continue on your travels by foot to gather ingredients on approach to Dragonspine. “Hey! Paimon asked if you were ready to go?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah I am. Sorry, was just trying to remember our, ah… next commissions,” you mumble before putting the journal away. Paimon gazes at you sympathetically then. With a sharp turn on your heel, you began walking towards the mountain with a renewed bounce in your step and lame determination to ignore Paimon’s pity. “C’mon! Better to get there sooner rather than later, yeah?”

Aether jogs to catch up and flicks his eyes between you and Paimon in some grand conspiracy. “Think if Paimon eats the last of our goulash again, we can use her as a hot blanket?” You both laugh, whipping around then to stare at the aforementioned fairy who only gulps.

“Paimon, ahh, Paimon is going to go scout ahead! Can never be too careful!” she chirps before floating ahead at a speed you only ever saw her gain when she spies a fresh meal. You were thankful, though. It’s no secret how you hurt these past few months since Childe’s departure to Schnezaya after his release of Osial. In many ways, that disaster became old news with the citizens of Liyue eager to remember the event only as of the fond ascension of the Liyue Qixing’s power rather than the near-death blow from the Vortex God. The peaceful Rite of Descension held after solidified the transition into the age of men. Though rumors were abound of Childe’s – no, Tartaglia’s – involvement, they were quickly muddled with the Fatui emphasizing new business opportunities in an attempt to let it all be “water under the bridge.”

Rather, they attempted to save face while Ningguang squeezed them under her golden thumb as retribution. Ultimately though, nobody truly witnessed Childe himself summoning the god of old.

That doesn’t make his actions any better after knowing. If anything, you find it almost easier to forgive – bitter in your private admission – since he acted only within his nature, no more and no less. Understanding was swift after you and Aether were somehow roped into helping him wrangle Teucer, a spitting image of the stubborn Childe you knew and not bloodthirsty Tartaglia, before his return to Schnezaya. You couldn’t find it in yourself to truly hate him after the Fatui’s blatant trust in you two to keep his secret, even as you jot down a new quest afterward: ‘Strangle Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, at your next meeting.’

Before his departure from the Northland Bank, you even had the courtesy to warn him under your breath when you hugged him farewell. He naturally returned the sentiment and squeezed harder in emphasis.

Yep. Reasonable. Single-minded friends to the end.

No, you hate the Fatui more. Whether Tartaglia ever forgives his conniving comrades – and the Tsarista - is something for the stars to witness. You know how deeply he respected the Tsarista for her frigid yet imperial attitude, something borne from the experience of a true warrior who courted death head on, whose pale complexion was forever marred by the scarlet slaughter. The only time you saw light in his eyes was when he waxed poetry of her carnage, much to Paimon’s disgust.

His contempt for deceit often warred with his pragmatic attitude of “the ends justify the means.” Despite his misgivings, he acted within his orders perfectly. He even expressed his distaste for unnecessary power demonstrations, a complete contrast to your false assumption and Signora’s patronizations over his desire for chaos. The reward? Being used and tossed aside. With Tartaglia designated as a pawn in the Cryo Archon’s grand game instead of granted the bare decency for communication between commander and general, you couldn’t help but wonder where his opinions of her now lie. Even as he cursed Zhongli and Signora for leading him on, you heard humor lacing his words. You were sure that Tartaglia always suspected Zhongli to be more than a consultant, but the Tsaritsa’s blatant disregard for the Harbinger’s intelligence was offensive, even to you.

In the end, what Tartaglia really thinks of her now doesn’t matter. It never did.

No, you were – are, you desperately try to remind yourself – more disappointed with Zhongli, with Rex Lapis, the God of Contracts, the God of War, with fucking Morax. When you first came to Liyue with the intention of hunting down the Geo Archon, both you and Aether marveled at the Geo powers bestowed upon you from the first statue encountered out of Mondstadt. Surely, Aether pondered then, this meant that the Geo Archon approved of your Holy Grail quest. Instead, many months later and after some rather painful revelations, you both discovered that Zhongli – gentle, kind, and dear Zhongli – was none other than the stone-cold god instead. Aether tried convincing you for weeks that this was Zhongli’s nature, that as a god who walked Liyue for over six thousand years, he likely saw these as tactical maneuvers similar to the Archon War.

Aether, bless him, understood Zhongli’s reasoning deeply; after all, you two were likely thousands of years old yourselves despite stopping the count many centuries ago. You logically understand the desire for peace, but you can’t help the emotional betrayal.

Thankfully, Aether keeps most of his comments to himself. He knows you well enough to know why you were really upset, why your heart twists at the memories you spent with the former Archon, but he is wise enough to know when to pick his battles.

You still remember your bitter conversations with Zhongli afterwards, your rampage in seeking him out at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor for answers. Except, what answers could he give you that he didn’t already offer at the Golden House? Still, that didn’t stop you as you barreled forward, didn’t stop you from pounding against his stone-cold chest and meeting his irritatingly serene gaze as you demanded he sat down for what pitiful interrogation you could dish out on the God of War. Since that confrontation, you spent much of your time in Liyue attempting to harass – or reconcile? – with Zhongli.

As you approach the mountain’s base, you feel Aether’s hand on your shoulder and his soft voice, “She didn’t mean it you know. She’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll bet you, I don’t think she’s forgiven him either. Paimon knows you’re trying, you’ve spent more time with Zhongli to repair things, but as much as she loves the fact that you’ve gotten him to pay for all our meals now, I'm pretty sure she’s still mad at him.”

You laugh then, and Aether perks up at your shift. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, matching his steps with yours as you snicker along. “Stars help the Lord of Geo, because he hasn’t face the fury of a hungry Paimon.”

---

“Promise me.”

“I understand.”

“No, Morax, you don’t. I need you to promise me.” You scowl hard, hands slamming on the desk as you stare deep into his amber eyes. He only passively stares back, but you knew him better than that. Those months of connection, of deeper understanding – even if you didn’t truly understand then it was because of two immortals who subconsciously recognized eternity in the other – gave you some advantages, such as recognizing that flicker of guilt across his eyes before disappearing. You don’t relent in your assault as you both ignore Aether and Paimon in the background tensely watching. “You owe us. That explanation at the Golden House and Rite of Parting was crap.”

"But Mr. Zhongli told us everything - "

"He gave us half the story, Paimon," you growl. "Isn't that right? How deep in with the Fatui were you? What did you tolerate?"

The air grows thick as memories of each Fatui camp obliterated run through your mind. You barely managed to stomach reading even half of the detailed accounts on the experiments conducted within Liyue. His eyes flick to the bags around your eyes, then towards the journal hanging by your side.

Zhongli’s fingers rap his table as his nostrils flare. Good. You got him on edge. Still, before you can say more, he relents and you try not to be disappointed. He knows when he is faced with an immovable mountain. With no more protest, Zhongli rummages for spare paper and ink before pulling both out and writes up a quick contract with a few lines of promises for total honesty. The pen narrowly avoids tearing the paper with the pressure. As he hands the paper to you, he never meets your eyes as he says, “It is important to me that you know I was authentic with you after Osial’s defeat. I hope this reassures and appeases your curiosity. If a physical symbol is required for what I have always given you, starlight, then so be it.”

Each word of his grows softer, yet only digs deeper daggers into your heart. Starlight. His own nickname for you to mirror Tartaglia’s pretty bird, yet you didn’t know why or how it came to be. Regardless, you take the contract and inspect his signature. Grabbing the pen from his hand – and with barely a flinch at his fingers lingering near yours – you sign your own name. “… Not always, clearly. It’s done,” you murmur and bring the contact with you to the fire behind him. All other parties in the room watch as you shuffle closer to the fire, ears straining for your next words that are nearly drowned in the incessant crackling. “You’re a lot like him, you know. Childe.”

Zhongli stiffens. “You have said so before.”

“You both see the world around you as means to an end, some limit to be pushed or some assessment to be passed. Is he… is he as bloodthirsty as you were, too? Back then?” He draws a sharp breath, though you don’t look behind you to see what expression he wears.

“… Yes. He is. I had expressed such sentiments to him before his departure. Childe only laughed, and… He told me that he knew there was a reason he liked me.” It takes all your willpower to not grip the contract any harder than you did, so you were proud of yourself, damn it. Still, you nod before tossing the contract into the fire.

Zhongli swiftly rises at that, and as you turn around, you watch his fierce eyes on you debate either questioning you or hurling a stone pillar towards you on pure instinct. Some habits die hard, it seems.

You only laugh, shoulders relaxing for the first time since Osial rose from the sea. “Zhongli.” He freezes, as if it were possible to become even tenser than he already is, and mouth parts lightly as you whisper his mortal name so sweetly. “All I needed to know was your willingness. I don’t care about contracts, I never even asked for it. Let’s not do that. It’s been six thousand years already, hasn’t it?”

He swallows thickly. “Yes. It has been.” Zhongli sits down and sweeps an arm out, gesturing for you three to take seats in front of his desk. Although you were the one to initiate the conversation, Aether and Paimon ask most of the questions while you keep your eyes glued to the desk in front of you. That didn’t stop you from feeling Zhongli’s eyes on you though, ever curious as to what was behind your own neutral complexion.

He taught you too well to hide your emotions; the thought alone is enough to crack the god of stone’s heart.

Unfortunately for the three of you, Zhongli can offer no explanation for their activities within Liyue. Although he was aware of some of their sickening actions, he was forced to turn a blind eye as he focused on the grander picture. Mortals needed to learn to handle affairs amongst themselves while he doubled his efforts in safeguarding what was personally important to him as he prepared to step down.

As you three were leaving his office – and after Paimon manages to convince Zhongli to pay for all her meals as recompense – you linger when you hear the former Archon call your name. When you turn back to see him, his own eyes aren’t meeting yours, but are instead taking the ring from around his thumb to place on the desk. What is the old idiot doing?

“I am not worthy of this gift,” he begins, closing his eyes as he shifts the ring forward. Copper floods your mouth from how tightly you bite your tongue then to keep from practically weeping at witnessing Zhongli attempt to give back the ring you gifted so many months ago. “You gave this to Childe and I as equal payment for our own gifts, yet you did this as promise to remain as true friends. I will not apologize for my actions, as I did what I believe to be right for Liyue as its Geo Archon.” His eyes open, resolute and vibrant. True to his word, there is no remorse for his manipulations. “As a mortal, however… I do not believe I have adequately upheld my end of the bargain. ”

Underneath his gloves, his knuckles go white from how tightly he clenches his fists in his lap.

“Zhongli…” You step forward to grab the ring before gently taking one of his hands. After unfurling his fist, you gingerly place the ring back in his palm. The ring you gave Zhongli is of a golden dragon wrapped around, biting its own tail. A symbol of eternity. For Tartaglia – Childe, you correct yourself, he was Childe then – you gave him a ring of silver and sea glass so brilliant, it acted as a mirror that could rival the ocean’s reflections. “Do you remember how Childe whined that my gift was impractical, compared to the utensils and bookmark?”

“Yes,” Zhongli says, smiling at the memory. “He complained that it would hinder battle as he gripped his bow.”

“Right. I said that it was so he would never forget how annoying I can be when I wanted to,” you giggle. “I gave this to you after you told me of how… of how all your friends forever shined like gold in your memories. I wanted to be like that too.” Before he could respond to your crack, you continue, purposefully cutting his thoughts off. “I know you promised to write Childe. He told me he made peace with you after bribery with some osmanthus wine. Something about learning how to be mortal, getting a chance to fight you, all that. He also told me he was ordered to keep you close as an asset, even if he didn’t understand why at the beginning. The Tsaritsa wants to keep tabs on your ‘progress’ and movements, I’m sure. For all of Tartaglia’s Fatuiness, he’s not very secretive about that sort of stuff. Guess he was glad to be done with those lies.”

Zhongli doesn’t respond and watches your face as you speak, so you took this as a cue to continue your speech as you withdrew your hands. You meet his gaze then. “I want you to let him know that I won’t try to make contact with him. I made my peace with him while Teucer was here, I harbor no bad blood. We were both pawns.” You ignore how Zhongli’s throat bobbed. “But I can’t keep contact with him. Not now, at least, not with where our mission is heading.”

After a long moment, the Geo Archon closes his eyes, before reopening to the imperial gaze the statues of him around the country forever etched. You both knew this was little more than a game, though. Nothing could make you bend the knee to any god before, why would you now? “Will you still visit me in Liyue?” he asks. For all of his age, you marvel at how lost he sounds.

A god who never learned how to be vulnerable, to be human.

“Yes, I promise, because you’re my friend.”

---

After that, the weeks crawled by, but you kept your promise. Ningguang saw fit to reward you, Aether, and Paimon with a reserved room in the finest inn at Feiyun Slope for whenever you passed through, as befitting of the Heroes of Monstadt and Liyue. Though the three of you collapsed on the floor in the apartment and wept honest-to-gods tears of joy of not having to open your wallet for once, you saw this as a cosmological suggestion for you to begin your journey of forgiving Zhongli.

Which, no, that was a lie actually. You knew deep down you already forgave Zhongli, that wasn’t the issue.

Long after Paimon retreated to her own bed tucked amongst an ungodly amount of pillows and blankets set in one of the larger windows, Aether sat you down in another windowsill to ask you honestly about your feelings on Zhongli and Childe. Thank the stars you knew Aether for centuries because he opened his arms instinctually as you sniffled and crawled over, burying your head into his chest as tears flowed openly for the first time since you both lost Lumine. After apologies and please let me wash your scarf I’m sorry I made it gross and no don’t you dare I ruin your shirts all the time, you began to confess how, for the first time, you felt dually matched tit-for-tat in these two men.

Tartaglia reminds you of the joys of adventures, of youth, of the difference between surviving and being alive while Zhongli gives you the stability that a mountain eternal would. He beckoned you through the history of Liyue with a warm smile, shared in your long conversations with Aether on the nature of life well into the night against the dawn, and stood steadfast as warden against your own anxieties of eternity despite not knowing then of his own timeless status.

Could it be helped that you fell as quickly as a star, set aflame with hopes of something more?

Yet, once again, luck proved to not be on your side. You remember in the days leading up to the battle with Osial at discovering how Zhongli and Childe would share long conversations or made time for meals regardless of busy schedules. Though you confessed to Aether that you recognize it was because both wanted to keep tabs on the other without revealing their ulterior motives, it didn’t fail to ignite anxiety, especially now that you knew Zhongli maintained correspondence with Childe, despite the former’s insistence that it was strictly friendly and contractual.

Stars, could you have felt any more like a selfish kid then? To want both men left you feeling equal parts angry with yourself and with them. How dare you allow yourself to get close to them? You should have left the socializing to Aether, fuck.

Combined with the fact that both men betrayed everyone involved and were shy of brawling each other in the Golden House, you couldn't help but feel that most - if not all - of the memories made were false. Bloodthirsty, warmongering, and ruthless in pursuit of their goals. Did they really care for any but themselves?

Aether held you tightly that night, singing songs in your shared native tongue that sounded of bells and twinkling glass to lull you into a fitful sleep. In the weeks after, you grew to become friendly with Zhongli once again, and if Aether didn’t know you any better, he would have said you moved on.

Except he did know you better.

Despite his own attempts at explanation, he knew you had to see for yourself what both he and Paimon witnessed during those long months spent in Liyue with Childe and Zhongli. He knew how frustrated the Harbinger and ex-Archon would grow, restless in their seats if you took too long escorting Paimon around the city to collect snacks. Aether got along like fire to a wooden house with the other two, all wit and not-so-professional humor. However, knowing that he fulfilled the diplomatic role to help others, you took the opportunity to try to irritate Childe where you could – at first because of his Fatui status, until it evolved into you and the Harbinger competing to elicit a laugh from present company without throwing hands.

While Aether certainly didn’t like to pry where it wasn’t his business – that was Kaeya’s modus operandi, thank you – he sometimes wondered if Childe and Zhongli viewed you and Aether as the guide to that murky area between mortal and divine. Their robust characters more than once reinforced his idea that Visions reflected personalities rather than the nation’s sovereign ruler. By extension, when he thought about how water crystalizes geo, he concluded that the speed Childe and Zhongli summoned shields and attempted to break them in a conversational dance whenever they were together was due to some deeper, instinctual urge.

That, or they were just nearly the same brand of deceitful, halfwitted idiots.

Perhaps that was why they felt comfortable constructing such a close friendship. To both of them, this merely played into some larger façade, all while convinced that the other was entirely fooled by the thick shield. Aether laughed to himself. The morons got so tangled in mental games, they unknowingly built a true and dependable relationship, if the blatant stress between them in the Golden House was anything to by.

Aether was not born yesterday. He didn’t survive these many millennium by not carefully observing the inhabitants of each world they visited. He is friendly, yes, but not ignorant. And how could he fault you for trying to find some sliver of happiness here, even if it was temporary? Stars above know his own heart ached each night.

That was why he was so sure you felt as comfortable around them as you did with Paimon and himself. The traveling troupe acted as a pacifying force for whatever the hell was going on between Childe and Zhongli being head deep in manipulations. In the little ragtag gang of the three travelers, none of you held tolerance for any bullshit and welcomed only peace, in whatever form a Fatui Harbinger and Geo Archon could manage.

He personally never doubted the authenticity of any sentiments, any stories expressed in conversations between all of you, even if you were now swimming with mistrust. The loneliness of not being able to trust anybody... He doesn't know if he can take much more abandonment after Lumine's entrapment. Everyone holds their own secrets, what they share always has a sliver of truth. Lies are built on that. By extension, Aether had no doubts that Childe and Zhongli were equal parts stubborn, righteous, and fucked up in their own uniquely Teyvaten ways.

At this point though, weren’t you all? Aether glumly drew his gaze upwards to the peak of the mountain. All of this for a five-thousand mora commission? Whoopee.

When the three of you grew closer to Dragonspine, he fell behind to gather tinder for a cooking fire to shake himself out of these deeper thoughts. As Aether returned, he couldn’t help his open fascination as Paimon played dodgeball with the small stones you were hurling at her when she kept commenting on your stove-building skills instead of helping.

In a hidden blessing, some things will never change. While rummaging through his subspace storage, the smile on his face quickly falls when he realizes –

“Guys. We have a problem.”

notes:

1) According to the game, starconches let you hear the ocean, no matter where you are. In a lot of religious texts (Buddhist, Egyptian, Mesopotamian, etc), the oceans are referenced as the bridge between heaven and earth, i.e. "bridge between worlds"

2) In one of childe's voicelines, he specifically references the Traveler wielding a lot of unusual powers without a vision

3) One of the MC's voicelines also references how time in Teyvat seems to be quicker with the days being so short

love yall <3

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x childe #childe #childe x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #zhongli fanfiction #childe fanfic #zhongli fanfic #aether #genshin zhongli #genshin aether #genshin childe

19 notes · View notes

tenmillionwhumperflies · 3 years

Text

Cloudwalker Series Part 23

Alright, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of angst and a whoooollllleee lotta whump. It’s Avizon’s backstory time, peeps!

Warnings: Abusive woman, beatings, dislocations, blood, hand whump, guilt for hurting someone/ comparing to an abusive/evil character.

Master-list Here

Approx WC: 2200

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

When Avizon went downstairs he found Orrien teaching Ihuka how to peel potatoes. He couldn’t help but faintly smile, seeing Ihuka screwing up his face as he concentrated. “Before you say it, I couldn’t sleep so I gave up and started making dinner. Ihuka wanted to help,” Orrien supplied. “He’s doing a good job. We’ve been learning some words and he’s taken quite a shine to Mouse.”

Avizon looked at the metal dragon on Avizon’s ear, which was currently guarding a pea. Avizon smiled, but it wasn’t as forced as he expected it to be. “Horse called Fox and a dragon called Mouse. You’re a creative one, that’s for sure. So, what have we learned then, Ihuka?” “Tay-toe!” Ihuka beamed, showing him the potato he’d finished peeling. “Potato, yes, clever bird,” Avizon chuckled.

“Ummm… knife, pot, bowl,” he pointed to each item. “Fire… hot. d.dangerous?” “Yes, fires are hot and dangerous.” Orrien grinned and pointed to a pan. “And what’s in there?” “Dinner!” he beamed. Orrien and Avizon chuckled. “You’re making quite the chef out of young Ihuka.” Orrien chuckled and collected a bowl of stew for Ihuka. “And I found a way to get him to eat his v-e-g.” “Drowned in gravy and stock?” Avizon guessed. Orrien winked.

It was true, Ihuka would have to start to eat vegetables since he wasn’t getting the greens now he wasn’t in the wild. Avizon wanted to be able to keep him healthy and happy.

Orrien gave him the bowl. “Off with you now, go eat outside.”

“Eat… out...side...” he pointed to the window. “Yes, outside, clever bird.” Ihuka beamed and left. “He’s gone to sit on the step, bless his heart. He’s a good lad, really. It’s nice being able to teach him words.”

Avizon nodded. “I just hope I can undo the damage I’ve done...”

Orrien looked up at him and sighed. “I think you can, with time. He’s bouncing back, but I think he also knows you didn’t mean it. He can see your regret.” “I hope so… I also noticed something… A few days after Ihuka bit me, I began to change. Seeing Blue’s bite, get infected like that… I can’t help but wonder if Ihuka biting me… if it… changed me, helped tilt the scales.”

“Perhaps so.” “And to think that’s what I broke him for...” Avizon mumbled. “All my life I swore I’d never be anything like Halve, but I fear that is what I have become-” Orrien’s mood immediately darkened. “Do not say that name in this home. And you are nothing like that man, or his bitch of a daughter.” Avizon flinched at his sudden change. “I’m sorry. But I almost killed Ihuka, how am I that much better?” “Because you feel guilt. You feel regret. That is why.” Orrien gestured for him to sit and reluctantly, Avizon did so. Orrien sat opposite him.

Avizon sighed. “Is that enough to separate me from that monster?” “Yes. It is. Now please, you need to dismiss those thoughts. You are better than him. Ro loved you, you don’t get to compare yourself to that beast. Where is this coming from, Avizon?”

Avizon found the wooden table beneath him to be the better thing to look at. “I’ve had too much time to think about all the wrong I have done… Seeing how my birds react to me… I… Seeing Blue and Dyan, how they need each other… It has brought up memories. All I can see are the similarities between me and… him.” He looked down at his hand, at the small scar on the top of his hand that the princess had left behind from one of her attacks.

Avizon sighed. “I’m having a difficult day, I suppose.”

“What you went through was by no means easy. You pushed your body to its limit and then so much further. You were lost, yes, but you are also trying to find yourself again, to be better.” Orrien carefully put a hand on his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Avizon shook his head. “I think I’ll go for a ride. You should know, our guest, Tashka, is still in the barn, I believe. He has promised to not attack this place again.”

“Good… How is Blue anyway? Did he wake?” “He cracked open his eyes a little, but I left him with Dyan since Dyan was having a hard time too. He practically asked me to punish him and muzzle him but I refused… He thought I was going to take his other horn when he accidentally snarled at me.” Orrien frowned. “Poor bird… With Blue, we never got around to working past his fear of taking off his collar. But Dyan wasn’t threatened by its removal. Perhaps you could get him a weighed necklace, something he can feel, to reassure him on his more vulnerable days, when he feels like he is doing wrong? It is hard for them to adapt at times.”

Avizon nodded slowly. “I will speak to him when he’s calm and see what we can do. He looked about ready to fall asleep when I left him.” Orrien excused himself from the table. “I’d like to pop my head around the door and make sure everything is well. I was meaning to check on Blue anyway. What he went through… I shouldn’t be long.” Orrien gestured to the pot. “You should eat.” Avizon nodded but he didn’t hear the words he said. He was lost in thought, staring at his scarred hand. He shuddered with the memories, but Orrien had already left. He didn’t need to see this, he didn’t like to have people see his struggling.

And so his mind wandered, and Avizon couldn’t reel it back in. All he could think about was his time at that cursed castle, the pain he’d endured, to all the events that had led him into darkness, and despair…

Several Years ago...

Avizon groaned as he made his way up the many stairs to get to the top of the tower to see Orrien and have his wounds checked over from the day before. Orrien had healed him well, but he needed to keep a close eye on it. Avizon had been unconscious after one of the princesses 'gifts' had left him too close to death.

It had been a bad stab wound sent in a fit of rage because Avizon hadn't knelt fast enough with his still healing leg injury from several days prior. Nothing he could do was ever enough for that woman or her father. Every failure brought pain which brought more failure. It was a cycle he couldn't escape from but he was running out of blood to give.

He'd only just gotten to the top, panting for breath, when he came face to face with Princess Eriona. He bit back a whimper and bowed. "Your Highness." "Downstairs, now," she hissed. "You didn't make an appearance yesterday."

Because he was unconscious, but that wasn't an answer he could provide. "Yes, your Highness… my sincerest apologies."

With every day that passed the desire to kill that bitch grew, but he was too terrified to ever act upon such thoughts.

Despite struggling all the way up the stairs, he now had to go back down. He politely invited Eriona to go first, but she slapped the back of his head and shoved him towards the stairs. He struggled to keep his balance as he limped down faster than he wanted to. He blinked away tears and bit back a grimace as the spiking pain increased rapidly.

"Hurry up!"

Despite his pain, he did so, his limp growing worse. He was in so much pain but he just couldn't stop. It wasn’t an option, she was already clearly so mad.

"You had the audacity to get my father involved, getting me into trouble for lowering his 'security'. Like you could do anything! You're worthless, pathetic! And one day once father is dead you'll be mine to hurt as I wish!"

She kicked him in the back of the head before he could string together some sort of reply, sending him down half a dozen stairs before he could catch himself. His stomach flipped when he felt something give in his shoulder. He cried out in pain, holding onto it with a strangled sob. He could only guess it had dislocated. He struggled to get up again with three shaky limbs. He choked back a sob. He was sure he'd opened his stab wound too. He clamped his eyes shut.

"Please, mistress," he whimpered, daring to use the other name she liked him to use when they were alone. "I..."

"Get up!" she spat, grabbing him by the hair and yanking up.

Avizon struggled to his feet and had no choice but to keep walking. His body burned with the pain he was in. He cried out as he hobbled, keeping a hand against the wall for support.

"Cry all you want, coward, you will be punished."

Finally, he made it to the bottom of the stairs, snivelling, whimpering, and shaking. He just couldn't take this anymore. He just couldn't live the rest of his life like this. He yearned for the day he could be free from this, from the pain. Ro always told him he didn’t deserve this, but then why did he always suffer so?

Avizon gulped as she forced him on into a storage cupboard. He knew what to expect, and he could only try to defend himself from the beating he received from her. He tried to protect his shoulder and hold on as best he could as he could until her frustration died down. That was all he was to her, a punching bag, a means of gaining satisfaction from hurting others. He was nothing in her eyes. The king wouldn’t correct her either, he just made sure she didn’t kill him. He curled up in the corner and gradually fell down to the ground with each devastating blow to his already broken body.

He screamed when she got him to the ground and started to kick him in the ribs. He wheezed and curled up until finally, finally, she stopped, panting for breath. She reached up into her hair and Avizon braced in advance, turning his head away. There was a sudden pain in his hand and he cried out. Then there was a yanking sensation, and blood flowed freely. Stabbed with her hairpin. He tried to focus on breathing, to get gulps of air past his frozen lungs and broken ribs. He tried not to stare at his hand.

“Do not ignore me next time I call for you,” she glowered. He lay on the floor, battered, broken, and in so much pain he just simply could not move even if he wanted to. His eyes were dull and unseeing. He barely managed to choke out, “Yes, m.mistress...”

She left him alone, to lay on the floor in agony, out of sight of anyone in the castle. He closed his eyes and waited for unconsciousness, for someone to find him. He didn’t care which anymore. This was the life he had almost always lived, and there would be no escape from it…

He didn’t remember falling unconscious, but he woke to the feeling of warmth on his cheek, a hand, and not just anyone. “Open your eyes, my love, please open your eyes… Oh, by the realms… W.what the fuck has she done to you this time?...”

Avizon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a feeble sob. He forced his eyes open a crack, just enough to see his beautiful green eyes. “R.Ro...”

Ro hushed him gently and kissed his forehead. "I've got you. My father's on his way- stay awake, sweetheart, please stay awake."

Avizon didn't even try to sit up. He couldn't if he wanted to. He was battling with his heavy eyelids, the whispered promise of painlessness. Ro sat down beside him and pulled him into his lap with care. Avizon whimpered as his shoulder moved but he tried to stay quiet for Ro. He wanted the comfort. The pain was so heavy he couldn't breathe.

"Ro?" Orrien called. "In here. I.it's bad," Ro answered.

Avizon saw the tears in his eyes and reached up with a bloody hand to wipe his tears away but thought better of it. His hand was so covered that it would have marked his face. He didn't want to do that to him.

"'m okay," he mumbled instead, even if he felt like anything but.

The first thing Orrien did when he saw him was swear. “She’s getting out of control,” he hissed, kneeling down to assess the injuries. Avizon whimpered and tried to push his hand away from his now clearly bleeding wound. “N.no, master, p.please...”

Orrien gently put his hand on Avizon’s forehead, assessing his temperature. “I’m going to have to inform the king again-”

“No!” Avizon yelped, trying to sit up, but that drew a scream from him. Ro eased him back down as he panted heavily and sweat dripped from his body. “N.no...” “She punished you for it? Dash it all!” Orrien spat, but he quickly dismissed his anger. “Alright… let’s just get you upstairs so I can patch this up. Don’t worry, lad, I’ve got you… sleep.”

#Cloudwalker series #whump #tw:abusive environment #tw:blood #Avizon #Orrien #Ihuka #royal whumper #Avizon didn't have a very nice time with the royals #and that's only going to get worse tbh

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larissa-the-scribe · 2 years

Text

Not Actually Alone, Cont.

1000 words(ish)

Rescued. Again. This was really becoming a bad habit.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stand on my own at the moment so it wasn’t like I could stop Stanton from supporting my weight. This had to be the slowest getaway in history, all because I had mouthed off to the Inquisitor and gotten my foot broken.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Why, I wasn’t entirely sure. For ending up here and needing to be rescued? For involving Stanton in my problems? For him having met me to begin with? I wanted to keep apologizing, to maybe manage to atone for some small part of everything that was my fault, but the Catacombs were echoey and I didn’t want to call the guards down on us. I already had enough to regret. All the relief I had felt in seeing him was burning away in a flood of guilt for all of the circumstances that led up to him half-carrying me while breaking me out of the Inquisitor’s Catacombs in a far-flung dimension, universes away from ours.

Stanton didn’t answer my whisper, instead guiding us into a side corridor and into a small room. There was a moment of darkness before the lights flicked on, revealing a sparse storage room, not unlike a closet. There were brooms and mops and vacuums, and shelves with cleaning products and trash bags, and it felt so oddly normal to exist in this dungeon.

“Cal told us to wait here until he could come get us,” he said, helping me over to a chair, which was an odd thing to have in a closet. But I wasn’t going to complain.

“What, does he have a map or something?” I said, lowering myself down.

“Apparently, prior experience.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that. Cal and I had shared a lot over the months he had been living in my guest room, but when it came to the past, we both had topics we left well enough alone. From the past week, it made sense that he wouldn't have wanted to talk about it. I shivered. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine them being able to handle a dragon, and that thought felt like a slap in the face.

Stanton remained standing, unslinging his crossbow, just in case. There were dark circles under his eyes, and the beginning of stubble—an unusual sight, considering how well put together he always was. That was my fault, too.

“How’s your foot?” He asked, turning keen blue eyes towards me.

I looked away. “It’s been better. But it’ll be fine. It just hurts a bit.”

“And how are you doing?”

Of course he’d ask that. There was no good answer to that. “Um, fine, all things considered. Apparently I’m on a hitlist now, so, that’s interesting. How are you doing?” I cringed even as the words left my mouth. Too upbeat, too… just… awkward.

He chuckled. “I guess we’re both in the same boat, then.”

“What?” I swung towards him. “When did that happen?”

“The Inquisitors are like that,” he said, shrugging.

I stared at him. “But… you…” I buried my face in my hands. “Oh man, I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that,” he said. “It’s not like it’s your fault.”

“I got you into this,” I said digging my hands into my hair. “There’s no way you of all people would end up on the Inquisitor’s hitlist if I hadn’t caused all of… this. You shouldn’t be here, not for me, you shouldn’t be risking your job and reputation over—” I stopped, swallowing. No way I was crying again.

“You shouldn’t be here, either,” he said gently. “We both know you’re in the right, and have been since the beginning.”

“Maybe, but this is trouble I got myself into. I took the risks, knowing it would probably go horribly wrong—like it did. I didn’t… I never meant to drag anyone else down with me. Especially not you.” No, not you. I could never say these words out loud. You’re the one good thing that’s happened to me. You’re good and smart and kind and brave and honest, and you don’t deserve to be here at the bottom with someone like me. You don’t deserve this mess I’ve made.

My hands fell to my lap.

“Jeanne, I took those risks, too.”

“But it’s my fault you had to take them.” I didn’t want to look up from the floor, look at his face and his eyes that I knew would be soft and full of tenderness and sorrow when they should be full of anger and disgust. Or maybe they would be, and that would be even worse. “Sometimes… sometimes I think what would have happened if I had sought out any other job, any other field to work in. And I can’t help but think how much better off you’d be if I had never met you, if I had never been made your partner, if you had been paired up with another agent who was actually easy to work with, good at their job, who follows the rules, and I just—” I drew in a sharp breath. The not-crying thing was becoming harder and harder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. I’m sorry.”

There was movement in front of me. Stanton was kneeling on the ground in front of me but somehow it was still too much to look at him. There was a light clack as he placed his crossbow on the floor. He rested his hand on mine. “I’m not.”

The not-crying plan had most definitely failed. A tear fell down my cheek as I scrunched my eyebrows together, trying to keep it together. “Why?” I finally managed, staring down at his hand.

“I don’t mind a bit of trouble,” he said. “I’m glad I got paired up with a partner who cares enough about what’s right that she’s willing to make the hard decisions. Even if they're not according to the rules. Even if they put you in danger. Maybe I could have worked well with whoever else it would have been, but it wouldn’t have been you. And that would have made it worse.”

A tear-drop plopped onto his hand.

“I’m here because I want to be, Jeanne. There’s no one I’d rather be in a mess with.”

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rallis-fatalis · 3 years

Text

Snow

Rallis shivered in her sleep as she snoozed curled up into a tight warm ball on her bed. Her blanket coiled around her but did little to keep her cozy. Her teeth chattered from the cold, which soon woke her with a startled yelp as she bit her lip in her sleep. Rallis shuddered and tried to curl in on herself even farther. She was absolutely freezing! She could even see frost on her breath, something she had never experienced before. Why was she so cold? It was starting to make her feel sick and slow.

The door across the room opened up, letting in a pale grey light. In came an older man dressed in robes of white, the attire of a druid. His mane of white hair and beard matched his robes, though they did not sport the stains of green like that smeared across his clothing. He was carrying a stack of blankets when he noticed Rallis.

“Rallis, you are shivering! Are you sick?” He put a hand to the dragon’s forehead. She was icy to the touch, so it wasn’t a fever that ailed her.

She mumbled a quiet no. “I cold Uncle Cake.”

The druid in question, ‘Uncle Cake,’ or Kaqemeex rather, hefted the pile of blankets over to Rallis. “It is indeed cold. That is why I brought these new blankets. It is going to be much colder now that winter is here. There is even snow outside already!”

Rallis sniffled and grabbed two blankets off the pile to hide under. “What is snow?” she asked.

“You don’t know what snow is?” Kaqemeex said in surprise. “Hmm no I guess you wouldn’t seeing as how you lived underground your whole life. Snow is cold and white. It is frozen water that falls from the sky in winter. It is also very soft and fun to play with.” He added the last comment with a smile.

Rallis’ eyes grew wide in excitement over this mysterious substance she had never heard of before. “I see snow?”

“We can go outside to see. But if you are cold inside, you will be very cold outside. You need to be warm first. Let’s see if I can find you some better clothes.”

The druid searched through his drawers for something Rallis could wear. Some thick socks? No, not on those three clawed toes. His wool gloves? He’d rather not an old present be ripped at the fingers from dragon claws. Definitely not his prestigious herblore mastery cape. His spare clothes were far too big for the short thin dragon, and his extra winter wools were even bigger than his normal attire. He’d have to carry Rallis out like a pig in a blanket! Or rather a dragon in a blanket.

While Kaqemeex sifted through his clothes, Rallis was feeling much warmer now that she was under an entire mountain of blankets. She was ready to go outside and see snow, clothing or not! She took a blanket and tied it around her waist, giving her shredded robe bottom a much thicker extra layer. She did that once more and was left with a kilt of fluff. She happily curled her tail into the blanket skirt and away from the chilly air. Next she tied a third blanket around her torso in a similar manner as her robe bottom, and a fourth and final blanket around her neck like a cloak. She could hardly move with all the extra layers wrapped around her, but she was warm and ready to explore.

“Snow!” Rallis chirped.

Kaqemeex looked over from the mess he was making and laughed. “Well I suppose that’s one way to do it! Snow is very cold. You have nothing on your feet or head. If you start to feel bad, you tell me.”

“Okay!”

Rallis waddled over to the door. Kaqemeex couldn’t help but snicker. She looked so ridiculous! He held the door open for his dragon in a blanket, and Rallis couldn’t hide her wonder as she gazed upon the outside world. Taverley was a very green place, with lots of various plants and nature growing all around, even up the sides of the buildings. But now most of the green was covered with white. The dull morning rays made the white world glitter all around her. Rallis gasped in awe as she stepped outside. Immediately upon setting foot outside, something cold crunched under her foot. She yelped and jumped back. The floor was so cold!

“It’s okay,” Kaqemeex assured. “That is snow.”

Rallis looked down at the frozen white crumbling off the bottom of her foot. “Snow?” She grabbed a fistful of snow off the ground and smiled at the frozen fluff. “Snow!” The dragon screamed giddily and ran off as fast as she could.

All of Taverley was covered in snow! There was snow on the roofs! There was snow on the tree branches! There was snow everywhere! A huge pile of the stuff accumulated near Sanfew’s house, the older man undoubtedly being diligent in his endeavor to keep the walkways clear. Rallis leapt into the pile without a second thought and disappeared with a fwumph. She poked her now snow-covered head out and laughed. She burst out of the pile in an explosion of powder and ran to the river. A thin layer of ice rest on the surface of the water and snow piled along the banks before melting and floating down stream. Rallis grabbed a pile of snow and dropped it into the water to see what would happen. It slowly dissolved as it flowed away. She smiled and got a bigger pile to drop into the river. It went a little farther this time. She ran off again and shoveled an entire cape-blanket full into the water. It plopped in with a splash and shattered some of the nearby ice. She screeched with joy as she watched the ice flow away.

Kaqemeex stood under the awning of his house and watched Rallis with a wide smile. Young people didn’t usually traverse Taverley often, and the few young adults that did live in the area were rather serious, no doubt due to Sanfew’s strict training. It was a very missed sight, watching child-like wonder grace the town once more. He found himself remembering when he was younger, playing in the snow with his parents for the first time. That memory gave him an idea.

“Rallis! Come here!”

Rallis cocked her head and ran over, but not before tripping on her blanket skirt and face-planting into the slushy path. Kaqemeex winced and started to run over, but Rallis shook the muddy slushy snow off and smiled as she grabbed a wad of wet earth and held it up proudly. “Mud AND snow! Good!!!”

“Haha yes it is! Now come here!”

She bounced over excitedly. “Rallis, do you want to do something fun?”

Rallis’ eyes shone with excitement and ears perked up in joy. “Fun?!”

“Yes, fun. We need to find a lot of snow! Can you do that?”

“Lot of snow! Lot of snow! Yes, yes, lot of snow!”

The end of town closer to White Wolf Mountain was buried in a deep layer of snow. It seemed no one cared to shovel it away with how far from anyone’s home or areas of work it was. Rallis flopped onto the snow piles. “Shmow!” her muffled voice called out.

“Excellent. Now watch this.”

Rallis pulled her head out of the snow just in time to watch Kaqemeex hold his arms out and fall backwards into the snow. She watched in confusion as he flailed his arms and legs across the snow over and over until it started to pile up in a pattern around him. Soon he stood up, carefully not to step where he had been laying, brushed the snow off his robes, and held his hands out to the indent he made in the snow with pride. “It’s a snow icyene!”

Rallis admired the shape thoughtfully. “What is I-seen?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know. They are humans with big feathery wings!” Kaqemeex pointed to the tiny feathered wings hiding under Rallis’ blanket cloak. “Feathery!”

She admired the angelic outline better and decided she wanted to make one of her own. She flopped down just like Kaqemeex had and flailed around. Unfortunately, she was quite a bit more messy in her execution, and when she got up to admire her work, it looked more like some warped devil than an icyene, especially with the added indentations of horns and a tail. Nevertheless, she held her arms out proudly. “I-seen!”

Kaqemeex rubbed the snow clinging to her horns. “Yes it is. Good job. Do you want to see something else?”

“Yes! Yes!” Rallis jumped up and down excitedly.

“Watch this.” Kaqemeex bent down and grabbed a wad of snow in his hands. He pressed it together into a ball shape and showed Rallis. “This is a snowball. Snow-ball.”

“Snowball,” Rallis repeated.

“They are very good for throwing,” Kaqemeex continued. “Like this!” He threw the snowball against the side of a storage shed and it exploded into a rain of white poofage. Rallis squealed happily and grabbed some snow to do the same. She threw her snow and it crumbled before impact.

“Make it tighter,” Kaqemeex instructed. “Like this.” He showed her the motions until she had made herself a perfectly round firm ball of snow. She threw it against the shed as hard as she could and it exploded into a flurry just like Kaqemeex’s. Rallis screeched happily and did it again and again and again.

Eventually, Jatix came out to see what all the commotion was about. He saw them pelting his shed with snow. “Hey! You’re making a mess over there! You better shovel all that away after!”

Rallis pouted and gripped her snowball. “Shush!” She threw her snowball straight at Jatix. It burst into a powdery explosion against his face, dyeing his brown beard white. Kaqemeex covered his mouth, both in disbelief that Rallis had just done that and also to hide the childish giggle forming in his throat. Rallis howled with laughter at her precise hit.

Jatix wiped the snow off his face and formed a snowball in kind. “Oh you think that’s funny?! Let’s see how you like it!” He threw his snowball right at Rallis, pelting her in the snout and ceasing her laughter. Rallis glared back with a smile and grabbed two snowballs to retaliate with. The first hit Jatix in the side but the second he dodged. It flew by him and hit someone else. Not far behind him, Tegid was out tearing the ice off the hang of his roof before they turned into real problems. He thought perhaps snow slid off the roof and hit his shoulder, but to his not-surprise it was Rallis with a snowball.

“Really, dragon?!” He shouted. “You trying to make my life harder?! Well then won’t you hate this when you learn--.” Tegid grabbed some snow and wedged a small definitely-not-dangerous piece of ice into the newly made snowball. “That I’m the best snowball fighter in all of Asgarnia!”

Tegid joined Jatix’s side while Kaqemeex backed up Rallis and the two began a proper snowball war. The sound of laughter and snowballs splatting against the sides of houses rang as the enlistment call for the other druids, and soon nearly the whole town was pitted against each other in a friendly battle. By the time the sun began to heat the snow and turn to either a slushy paste or a hardened crunch, most of the druids were down for the count back inside and snowballs painted the once clear walkways and house perimeters. Rallis was snuggled up on her ‘snow I-seen’ next to Kaqemeex, ready to fall asleep from both the cold and exhaustion of play. Kaqemeex went to pick Rallis up and take her back inside to sleep somewhere warm when the sound of footsteps crunching on the snow came his way. He looked over to see Sanfew, usual scowl etched across his face. His red face stood out against all the white. He looked around at the mess, the slushy walkways, the snow-pelted windows and walls, the neatly shoveled snow piles toppled over, all the hard work he had done from the night before and that morning just gone to waste. Kaqemeex could see Sanfew take a breath, a prelude to the shouting that would likely cause an avalanche. Kaqemeex grabbed Rallis and ran back to his house, slamming the door shut before Sanfew could get started.

Once the shouting began, the remaining druids lazing around in the snow scrambled up in a hurry to grab a shovel and get to work, and one could swear there was an ominous rumbling tumbling sound from the peak of White Wolf Mountain.

#my writes #runescape #oc tag #osrs

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

Text

☄ ----- MOONRISE RADIO.

summary: you’re hawkins high’s new science teacher, faculty advisor for the newly reinstated hawkins av club, and crazy townie who overhears a russian comminucae on a broken ham radio. chief jim hopper is into it. joyce is a good wing-woman and the kids just want to listen the the buggles. pairing: jim hopper x reader, murphy as a placeholder surname. rating: t, some swears. word count: 3.8k a/n: this is a season three au! here’s the set up for all the drabbles i am going to end up writing for hopper bc he literally owns my whole ass, thanks, enjoy ;)

Hawkins, Indiana is a small town.

For this exact reason, Chief of Police Jim Hopper knows everyone.

... Seriously.

Everyone.

Hawkins is kind of like Saturn: try to leave its orbit and you’ll get caught in the rings -- literally. Y’know, high school sweethearts marry one another, settling down, and boom! Hopper winds up at their end-of-the-cul-de-sacs on domestic dispute calls and reunites with that shithead co-captain of Hawkins basketball team who keyed his car Sophomore year.

Life in Hawkins is a never-ending cycle of existence that renders everyone in the small town a familiar face. Everyone knows everyone’s business. Everyone knows everyone.

And everyone certainly knows Jim Hopper.

So, imagine his surprise when after her first day of high school, over a ravoli dinner, El nudges a crumbled pink piece of paper his way with an excited look on her face. The paper is well-loved paper and home to her new class schedule, a point of interest -- she’s marked what classes she has with the boys and Max.

“I like science,” she says with a full mouth, “Fun.”

El points to her sixth period.

Imagine Chief of Police Jim Hopper’s surprise when he sees an unfamiliar name. Someone he doesn’t know.

And she teaches science.

Summer fades with a wave of heat and full moons.

The last week of August creeps up on you and before you even realize it, you’re moving into the cleared out room of a retired Mrs. Gomez and hanging your own name up on the door along with three planetary mobiles, a periodic table and a big exo terra tank for the freshmen class pet on the back windowsill.

One period turns into six, and a week turns into three.

Your life begins again, Hawkins style.

“Miss Murphy!”

You’re wiping down the chalkboard, smearing drawings of ionic bonds into dust when the stampede begins.

Typical Friday.

You like Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin and El and Maxine. The little squadron of hellions had managed to win you over easily within the first three weeks of school -- between the abundant D&D references and constant “curiosity voyages”, you’d seemingly become their go-to with questions, gossip, and over-all mentor-ship.

The whole bunch of them sat together in your sixth period class, and the whole bunch of them were really the only ones excited about Dash, that aforementioned freshmen class pet that you’d scooped up behind the school and saved from being roadkill.

El immediately wanders to the tank and makes sure the heat lamp is on.

You can’t help but smile. These are good students. You like them. They like you.

Maybe it’s because when you were younger, you were just like them.

It’s like a sixth sense. They just... know.

“We have a question.”

“Is it about reptiles again?” you chirp, wiping your hands, “I don’t know, like, anything about komodo dragons, Dustin, I told you --”

“No!” Dustin waves his hands, hopping up onto the edge of your desk, “No, this is about the AV Club.”

“AV Club?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “The AV Club!”

You blink. All six of them are looking at you expectantly. You deadpan.

“You lost me.”

“She’s new here, guys,” Will sighs, gently nudging Lucas who makes an O with his mouth, “Remember?”

“Right, right, right,” Dustin sighs, waving his hands with a charismatic no-front-teeth smile, “Sorry, Murph, my excitement precedes me --”

You shoot Dustin a look. No nicknames. He knows the rule.

“Make it quick,” you groan, waving an apologetic Dustin off your desk as you begin to collect papers from the previous period, “I have the open house tonight and I gotta get some grading done before -- you’ve got fifteen to catch me up on this AV Club thing.”

Lucas claps his hands. They all settle into the desks in-front of you.

You narrow your eyes.

Mike begins.

“So, there’s all this old radio station equipment in the top of the gym...”

You wring your hands.

You fiddle with the hem of your dress.

This is nerve-wracking.

For the first time in a while, you curse the fact you’ve got mostly freshmen in your classes -- with every new round of bright blue visitors stickers, parents are eager to pick your bones when you begin talking about your curriculum, expectations and the like. I mean, it’s good, you guess, that there’s parents who are engaged but... as a new teach at Hawkins, you can’t help but feel like you’re missing a part of the bit.

It’s nearing the end of the night now and you’ve noticed the parents don’t greet you like they do the other teachers. Like... like friends.

Maybe it’s because you’re new.

New to the town, too. Not just teaching high school science, you mean.

You wonder if all the news stories pouring out of that Hawkins Lab have anything to do with how cheap rent is in the area. The multi-family unit you’ve settled into is in a nicer suburb in town -- green lawns, a playground, neighborhood BBQs... You’d moved on the pretense of your hiring, excited at the chance to get out of the city for a while and live a quieter life.

You jump six feet in the air when someone knocks on the door-frame of your classroom.

“Oh my god --”

Your hand flies to your chest.

“Uh, sorry -- Sorry, is this... is this Miss Murphy’s room?”

The first thing you notice is the badge. It glints in the florescence.

The next thing you notice is... him. I mean, he’s tall -- tall and broad and intimidating but... soft. His eyes are tired and his voice is quiet and you’re staring, Jesus Christ, you’re staring --

Chief of Police Jim Hopper has never felt smaller.

You’re new -- definitely new. Hopper knows, in that moment, that you must be, He would remember someone like you. I mean, how could he not?

(Everyone knows he’s got a soft spot for beautiful women, but he’s damn near mush right now. Pudding. His knees are pudding. He is an idiot and his knees are pudding.)

He makes the doorway look tiny.

You sputter. “Y-yes! Yes, it is. Hi, I’m, uh, Miss Murphy.”

“I figured,” he chirps, lips quirking under his mustache. He waves the piece of paper in his hands, “Kinda... kinda said so on the schedule, y’know?”

“Jim!”

Immediately, someone shoulders his backside.

Right in the damn kidney.

“Christ, Joyce, ow --”

“Be nice!” she cries with a laugh, stepping around him.

The woman is comically smaller than the police officer before you. Joyce has a kind smile and sweet doe eyes and she excitedly rushes to shake both your hands in her own.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she gushes, “Will has said so many great things about you --”

Your eyes widen. “You’re Will’s mother? Will Byers?”

“Yes!” she nods, “Yes, and, uh, this is Hopper --”

Joyce nearly snorts when Jim just blinks. She elbows him. He jumps.

He was staring.

“Jim Hopper,” he clears his throat, trying to regain any semblance of composure. This really knocked him off his game -- you really knocked him off his game. He was fully expecting some nasty old widow to be teaching, not a young, brightly dressed woman who’s smiling at him, Christ almighty, smiling, “Chief of Police.”

He offers his hand. You shake it and your lips quirk. “Are you... here to investigate me, or...?”

“Oh!” his eyes widen, “No, no, uh -- El is my daughter. Adopted.”

“Ah, right. Miss El. Got it,” you laugh a little, nodding, “Groovy.”

“Groovy.”

(Joyce narrows her eyes, grinning between yourself and Hopper. Groovy indeed.)

“She was nice.”

Jim’s cigarette glows red in the evening September air. Joyce, beside him, has this horrible, conniving look on her face -- the same look she gave him when she convinced him to ask Jenny Gonzalez out Junior year -- and Jim immediately goes on the defense.

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Miss Murphy,” Joyce grins, “I saw you staring.”

“I was not.”

“C’mon, Jim,” she chirps, “She’s pretty --”

“Yeah, a pretty bad idea.”

Joyce rolls her eyes so hard Hopper can feel it.

“Listen,” Jim says, flicking his cigarette into the pavement, “With everything goin’ on, I don’t have time for something like that.”

“Jim, stuff like that doesn’t care if you’ve got time.”

Joyce watches him climb into his truck. He slams the door shut,

“If it’s meant to be, it happens anyways!”

He narrows his eyes.

Then, cranks the window down and raises one finger.

“Not on my watch.”

Famous last words, Jim Hopper. Famous last words.

Happy Monday.

“I’m joining AV Club.”

“...What?”

“AV Club. Science. Fun.”

Hopper just takes a looooooong sip from his morning coffee. Eleven stabs her eggos. She forks a hunk into her mouth and chews.

Hopper takes another sip.

“AV Club.”

“Yes. Radios.”

“Radios.”

“Yes.”

You’re sweating.

The storage space of Hawkins High’s gym is ninety degrees at least -- and here you are, brandishing a flashlight in the dark as the Mighty Hellions dig through the space and pull box after box from the makeshift sauna.

“Think this stuff still works, Murph?” Maxine asks.

You ignore the informal nickname and pull open a box to eye a bundle of cables. They’re in good shape. The mic, at the bottom, is too if not a little grimy.

“I don’t see why not.”

After a grueling hour and a half, they finally set up shop in the closet across the hall from your classroom. It’s usually where they keep glassware and Bunsen burners but... with a little begging and a dejected look from Dustin, you grant them their plea and help them set up the impromptu radio station with relative ease.

The desk in the center of the room -- Mrs. Gomez’s old one -- is a little wobbly, but it works.

“And now,” says Mike, “The moment of truth.”

El flicks the switch.

And nothing happens.

Not so Happy Monday.

"How was AV Club?”

“Sad.”

Hopper’s mouth is full.

“Sad...?”

“Radio is broken.”

“Oh,” Hop hums, “M’ sorry, kid.”

“It’s okay,” El says slowly, looking out the window on the ride home, “Miss Murphy buying us new wires.”

Hopper blinks. “Miss Murphy?”

“Yes. Nice.”

Very.

Joyce rings you out the next evening at Melvald’s.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try Starcourt.”

You laugh a little. “What, that super mall?”

“I heard they’ve got everything,” Joyce chirps, “Will and the kids go there nearly every weekend. Ice cream, movies... you name it. A great place for a date, I bet.”

You laugh and pull out your wallet. “Oh to be young and in love.”

“No kidding,” she grins, taking the cash, “Speaking of... are you...?”

“Young?” you laugh, propping your elbows up on the counter, “Or in love?”

“Either.”

You like Joyce. She’s funny.

“No,” you sigh, “Nope. No, not right now. Neither. I spend my Tuesday nights with wine and a TV dinner.”

“Y’know,” Joyce hums, a knowing look in her eye as she bags the radio supplies, “I know someone who does the same exact thing.”

It’s Miller High Life, actually. And Tostitos.

That’s besides the point, though, because while Joyce is still very much on his case about the new science teacher, Jim is very much focused on the fact none of the stations god damn radios are working.

He could really go for a beer right now.

Something is jamming the signal.

Actually, to clarify -- the same fucking song on repeat is jamming the signal.

For the last two hours, it’s just been Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles over and over and over and over again. And then again, just for good measure. On the fourth round of the song, Jim had unceremoniously lobbed his walkie across the station. On the tenth, he’d yanked the chord for the radio out of the wall.

If Hopper hears that fuckin’ oh oh sound one more time, he’s going to lose it.

Callahan just shrugs when, finally, the music stops and the booming voice of Dustin Henderson comes over every walkie in the room.

“GOOOOOOOOOOD EVENING, HAWKINS INDIANA!”

Hopper peels into the high school parking lot.

Long strides carry him through halls that he knows way too damn well -- halls that wind and turn and lead him right to room 305. Your name is scrawled across the door alongside a picture of a constellation and a beaker.

But, the classroom is empty.

And then he hears it.

“-- OH OH! VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR! --”

“I am so sorry, Chief Hopper -- I had no idea that was the PD’s frequency.”

You’re wringing your hands but you’re also two beats from laughing and Hopper is really trying to keep it together because... I mean, it’s funny.

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels bad. He... well, he probably shouldn’t have slapped the broadcasting mic out of Dustin’s hands. He’s got a short wire now-a-days, blame the whole Hawkins Lab incident and the fact he’s essentially harboring a fugitive and allowing aforementioned fugitive to go to high school and jam radio channels with Today’s Top 40 in her free time.

“No, no -- I... It’s fine. It’s fine, really, just...”

Hopper drops his hand. You’re trying your best to hide a smile that’s threatening to sweep across your whole face.

“Do not let Dustin play any more of The Buggles, okay?”

You chew your lip and lean closer, whispering. “... Did it really play for two hours straight?”

Hopper’s nostrils flare. He nods weakly. You note the missing walkie from his belt.

And then you burst into laughter.

You buy more cassettes at Melvald’s the next week.

“Oh,” Joyce grins, holding up a Madonna album before scanning it across check-out with a beep, “Nice stuff -- is this for AV Club?”

You laugh. “Let me guess, Chief Hopper told you about ‘The Incident’?”

Joyce's lips quirk and she tilts her head, eyeing you carefully as you bite back a smile and muscle out your wallet from your bag. “... No, he did not.”

“The kids were on the wrong frequency,” you gesture, a bit sheepish, “And, I mean, I had no idea until Chief Hopper had to come to the high school and let us know that he’d been listening to Video Killed the Radio Star for two hours straight.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah,” you raise your brows, pull a face and mimic the catchy hook, “Oh oh god.”

Joyce snorts.

“It’s not working!”

“Boys,” you sigh heavily, “Just... Just let me look at it.”

There’s a scramble and the sea of bodies part. Max and El are posted by the door, watching with a dejected sort of disappointment. Your knees hit the floor and you ignore the fact your jeans are going to be covered in nasty dust from the underside of Mrs. Gomez desk. Your necklace jingles and you sigh, settling on your back and waving for Dustin to pass you the flashlight.

“Did Hopper break it?” it’s Mike, “If Hopper broke it, I swear to shit --”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

You squint, pushing apart the mess of wires and sighing loudly when you find the problem.

It’s... weird. Like... Like some of the wires have been chewed clean through.

“Looks like one of the wires is frayed.”

“Frayed?!”

You take the main component home with you.

It’s sitting on your passenger side seat when you pull into Melvald’s.

In the spot in-front of the store sits a Hawkins Police Dept. truck with a CHIEF decal on the side.

“She’s funny and smart and came in here and talked about you --”

“Talked about me?” Jim’s leaned against the counter, coke in his hands, “Hold on, what? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah,” Joyce’s voice lilts, “She, uh, was telling me about The Buggles incident.”

Jim groans.

“Oh, yeah, when I nearly drove my fist through the kids’ new hobby?”

“-- Funny, she left that part out --”

“I made an ass of myself, Joyce.”

“Hey,” Joyce coos, throwing her hands, “Maybe she likes that about you... y’know... your uncanny ability to be a... uh, an ass?”

“Nice.”

“I’m kidding.”

The shop door dings and Chief of Police Jim Hopper chokes on his diet coke.

You stop short in the doorway.

The store is mostly empty -- it’s almost closing time, anyways -- and you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on Hopper and Joyce’s conversation, especially when Hopper is cursing and wiping at the soda spilled down the front of him.

Overhead, Movin’ Out by Billy Joel plays.

“-- Workin’ too hard can give you a heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack --”

“Miss Murphy!” Joyce grins, “Hi there!”

“Hi Joyce,” you smile, nearing the counter. You can’t help but hide a smirk as Hopper sighs and stands. He drops his hands to his side and you get a full view of the coke down the front of his uniform, “Chief.”

(A little part of him dies inside then.)

(Joyce sees it.)

“Evening, Miss Murphy.”

“Rough night?”

“Little bit,” he heaves, downing the rest of his soda and crushing the can. He lobs it into the trash can beside the register with ease, “Well, duty calls, ladies.”

“Duty calls?” Joyce asks, crossing her arms. Suspicion paints her features.

She’s trying to get him to stay -- trying to goad him into a conversation with you, just like she always does, but the problem is that Joyce is a great wing-woman and honestly?

That kind of terrifies him.

It’s been a minute and a half since he’s considered anything more than a one-night stand with someone. He’s been busy, y’know, saving this dimension and keeping a top-secret government facility secret.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, not feeding into it, “Duty.”

“Duty.”

You blink between them both.

Jim’s out the door with the tinker of the overhead bell.

Ouch. You turn to Joyce.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Famous last words.

“Testing, one, two, three --”

You groan, switch frequencies one more time, and throw your hands.

Maybe the whole Hawkins High Radio Station idea was never meant to come to fruition. It hurts to admit it and you know the kids are going to be so damn upset, but no amount of soldering and wire replacements seems to be getting this hunk of junk to give out any sort of signal.

You take a long drink from your glass of wine and collapse back onto the couch.

Then, you hear it.

"I’ll be sure to let Chief Hopper know, Miss Murphy.”

“Listen, I... Is he here? I’m kinda in a rush and this is sort of important --”

You’re pushing past Florence, the nice secretary, before you even realize it.

You’d known Hawkins was a weird town. That much was pretty clear from the odd disappearances, government labs and toxic leaks. But this... this is more than just weird. This is borderline panic inducing.

Hopper has a cigarette between his lips and his hat on his desk when you barge in.

He jumps six feet in the air and spills his coffee.

“Jesus --”

“Listen, Chief, I know you’re a real busy guy, but --”

“I am so sorry, Jim,” it’s Florence, moving to put herself between you and the Chief, “Miss Murphy, please, if you can take a seat, Chief Hopper would love to hear all about your top secret Russian communicae when he’s done his coffee --”

When Jim’s eyes widen a mile, you realize he knows something you don’t.

Jim feels small in your living room.

It’s a nice place -- furnished with plants and art and your TV has a stack of sci-fi movies atop of it. In the middle of your rug, though, sits the ham radio surrounded by a winding mess of wires. It’s off, and when you near it, you wring your hands. You’re nervous, he can tell. You can hardly stand still.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

Hopper blinks. He clears his throat. “What?”

“This... Hopper, I swear, I heard Russian --”

“No, I... I believe you,” he says slowly, narrowing his eyes, “Hawkins is a...”

“Weird town?”

“Weird town.”

You nod slowly then, crank the on switch, and the radio hums alive in a language neither of you know.

Hopper just sighs.

“... What do you know about radios?”

“It’s close,” you say finally, blinking up from the manual, “It has to be -- I mean, this specefic model only broadcasts and receives up to fifteen miles. That’s... what? Like, all of Hawkins?”

“Just about,” Jim hums, hands on his chin, “and what about the channels?”

“I mean, it’s messy -- I hijacked your frequency. On accident.”

Hopper smothers a smirk with a drag of his cigarette. You grin. His office back at Hawkins PD falls quiet for a moment and you catch yourself staring again. Across from him, you squirm a bit in your seat and turn your attention back to the Olympia Radio booklet.

“There’s no way of tracking the channels,” you sigh, “I... I dunno. I’m kinda out of my element here.”

“What is your element?”

“Chemistry,” you chirp, “And biology. And some physics.”

“Chemistry, huh?”

“Speaking of which, I know you don’t like me much but,” you rush, blinking up at him, “Thanks for believing me.”

The moment would have been sweet if Hopper hadn’t reeled backwards, like he’s been punched. His face screws up in confusion and he waves, cigarette smoke halo-ing around his head as his mustache twitches.

“Wait... hold on --”

“It’s okay,” you console, “Seriously, I... I’m new around here, I... I get it a lot. Folks don’t really trust the new girl next door. Especially with everything that’s been going on.”

“I... I never said --”

You serve him a look.

“Duty?”

“... I panicked.”

“Panicked?”

Hopper sighs. “You’re just as bad as Joyce.”

Your brows raise. “Are you and her...?”

“No!” he cries, “No, no, I... I am single, I am very single, and I am very busy, but despite that, I still would like to ask you out to dinner, and that is terrifying, okay --”

You blink. “You... what?”

Jim’s about to try and dig himself out of his metaphorical grave when the radio flares up again.

You scramble to grab the recorder and Jim turns the volume up -- quickly, you record the repetitive sentence and when the line finally goes silent again, you spare Hopper a look.

“How about dinner and Russian For Dummies?”

#stranger things imagine #jim hopper x reader #chief hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #moonrise radio #stranger things headcanon #stranger things reader insert #jim hopper headcanon

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ascalonianpicnic · 4 years

Note

HI I want all the emojis for my fave Io (my phone kept correcting it to zoom and I just alakdkalshc)

“OK I ALSO REALIZE that’s a lot Of writing LMAO so u don’t have to do all, just whatever u feel fits io!!!” NO you get all of them! Because I said so! I love you jen lol

mobile users I’m so sorry in advance if the read more doesn’t work

💙 What would your OCs last words be (or if they’ve died what were their last words)? What were their final moments like? How did they die?

Well, if we count the battle against Balthazar in PoF, which I’m gonna because I have that power, then her last words were “I’ll make you fucking REGRET THAT!” shouted at old Balth after he hit Lace and hurt them badly. Her final moments there were pretty frantic as she tried to keep Lace safe and not die herself, but she was new being being a holosmith and her forge got overheated in the fight so she was down that and left with just her very old vigil pistol. She was fighting until Balthazar landed a hard kick to her chest, and then she was just dead.

Not counting that fight, her last words will be “I’m heading out for a walk! I’ll be back soon!” called out either to a partner or a dog, whatever she ends up with. She goes out jogging like always, starting to get up there in years and very much retired. She’s had issues breathing since Balthazar, and on her jog, her lungs will just give out on her. She panics until she loses consciousness and dies there, unable to breathe. Aaaand I made myself sad ;n;

💧 What’s the worst pain your OC has ever been in? Mental or physical? What was the cause of this?

Io is lucky that she doesn’t remember the actual worst pain she’s ever been in, which is when, in an emergency, Imekaari had to try and pull as much bloodstone out of her system as possible following the battle with Cadecus. She had a shard embedded next to her heart as a teen, the other contender for worst pain that she also doesn’t remember, and it had spread fully up her right arm by this point, so that was excruciating. The worst pain she does remember happened in the Maguuma Jungle, at the end of HoT for her, when she used the bloodstone in her body to pull and manipulate the dragon corruption in Trahearne. She never shared how badly that hurt, physically or emotionally, but it was bad on both parts. It was worth it, though, since it saved his life and allowed her to destroy the corruption.

🔷 Has your OC ever had to leave something behind or abandon something they didn’t want to? Have they ever had this happen to them? How has this effected them over the years?

At the age of 17, Io was kidnapped from her home in her sleep. At the age of 18, she woke up in the streets with a year of missing memories, and realized she could never go home again. If her father wasn’t the one to do this to her, then it was because of the people who knew, and home wasn’t safe. She had to abandon her entire life prior to that point, and her younger brother, for her own safety. It hit her pretty hard at first, but she met Lace around that time, and they stepped in and helped her adjust and come to terms with it. She’s slow to trust still after that whole situation, but has since learned the exact cause of that whole situation (her kidnapping was a punishment for her father from his employers, she still doesn’t know how she escaped) and fully come to terms with it. She’s even reconnecting with her brother now, though slowly.

🔵 Has your OC lived through any particularly traumatic events? Does this event (or events) still effect them or have they tried to bury it? Is there a reason why this event is so traumatic for them?

As the commander, Io has lived through a lot of traumatic events. Like, so many. Someone help the commander. The worst ones were definitely: being kidnapped on her 17th birthday and all the events of the missing year, losing Forgal at Claw Island on her 20th birthday, and the trials for joining the Shining Blade. The only one she hasn’t tried to bury at all was the first. She hasn’t confronted the affects of Forgal’s death yet, though she will admit there are some, and she refuses to admit there was any issue left behind by joining the Shining Blade. She’s clearly strong enough and mature enough to deal with what happened there. She isn’t a child. She doesn’t tense up at her reflection or start panicking when having to face her own doppelganger. Not at all, she’s fine.

❄️ What is (one of) their biggest regrets or biggest mistake they’ve made? Is there anything they can do to fix this or is it so far gone there’s no point anymore? Is this something they dwell on a lot?

Between the end of PoF and the start of lws4, Io’s best friend and partner in this whole commander thing, Lace, went missing. They were gone for over a year before an almost complete stranger brought them back, alive but badly injured. She spared as much time as she could around the issues Joko was raising to look for them, but she wishes she had done more and found them sooner. There were ways she could have gained access to vital information and found them if she had just taken more time to.

And she still, to this day, has not forgiven herself for letting the Pact fly off to face Mordremoth without doing way more research first. Time should have been taken to learn more, even if she would have had to make that time herself.

💦 Does your OC have any self destructive habits? Addictions? Urges? What is the cause of these or the reason for them?

She picks at her lips, as well as at scabs. And when her hair is long enough, she chews on it. She also tends to chew on pens and occasionally her tools. That’s the worst of it, and the reason is easy stimming honestly. She takes pretty good care of herself despite everything.

🌊 What is your OC like at their most depressive? In the middle of a breakdown? Having a panic attack? What are they like with dealing with anxiety and stress?

For both severe depressive episodes and panic attacks, Io gets really angry and defensive. During breakdowns, or when extremely stressed or anxious, she acts incredibly childish and insists she isn’t mature enough for her role and no one should have trusted her in the first place, but maybe now they’ll all realize that and replace her with someone more fitting.

☄️ Does your OC struggle with their emotions and trauma? Do they find it easier to open up to strangers or those close to them if at all? Do they tend to hide their pain from everyone?

Io struggles a bit with her trauma, but she’s got a fairly good handle on it most of the time, honestly. She knows when to take a step back and take care of herself. She knows when to ask for help or just leave something that she can’t fix alone. She’s great at taking time off to do things she loves with people she loves. She finds it easier to open up to her friends, even if some parts are hard to open up about in general. The only pain she hides is pain from the situations she isn’t willing to admit hurt her. And she can only hide so much from Trahearne by now.

📘 Write a sad journal entry, an unsent letter or short sad drabble. + bonus, give a theme!

“The will was read today. I was... surprised I was even mentioned in it. Considering Dad thought I was dead for years. But I was. And he didn’t leave me much, but he left me something. A dog, a key, and access to a storage unit. The dog is massive. Like, genuinely massive. Dad trained him already, got him set up for a ranger. Which I was, last he saw me. Can’t believe he remembered. The dog’s name is Brouhaha, Bruce for short, but I’ve also been calling him Buster Brown just for fun. Like Dad used to call me when I was in trouble but not really in trouble. I’ll check the unit tomorrow. I didn’t have the energy for it left after today. The key probably unlocks something there. Guess we’ll see...” The journal entry is dated at the bottom, almost as an afterthought.

🔹 Does your OC have any scars? What are the stories behind them? Do they have any mental scars? Talk about the effects of their trauma in general on their day to day life.

Io’s right arm is pretty badly fucked, with long, red scars that trace mostly over her veins but then branch out some more. These go from her palm all the way up to her heart. Her left leg is gone from just below the knee, with burn scars above the cut off point. There are several small burn and shrapnel scars up both of her arms, though it’s more visible on the left. There’s also a clear bite mark from a dog on her left arm, and there’s a long, thin scar along her hairline curving back behind her left ear from a bad fall as a kid.

#aaaaa jen i love you thank youuuuu #here's the zoom deets~#the sad deets #long post #commander io #miragecounseling

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moonlightreal · 4 years

Text

Winx Club season 8/16

In which we get a large terminology retcon and some Trix of a different color.

16 The Sparx Festival

Sparx like the starlight or have we timeslided back to 4kids when Domino was named Sparx?

We open in what must be the Winx common room. The festival hasn’t been mentioned except in the title, we jump right in to the girls’ planning. Aisha wants to do a gymnastic dance competition. Musa’s ready to provide the music and Tecna the special effects. Of course Stella thinks it should be a fashion show, and Flora’s more keen on a rare plant show. Stella transforms her look into a lil blue dress with flowers and a very questionable hairstyle and conjures a red carpet… which is pulled out from under her by the chompy carnivorous plant Flora brought in. Girls, you’re perfect, never change.

Bloom, though, is moping and everyone shortly realizes it and does the “you can tell us about it.” thing. It’s Sky, of course, he’s not answering the phone and nobody knows where he is.

Where he is, is climbing a cliff with Diaspro. Even though they can both fly, and have a spaceship. They’re looking for the lost medallion of Eraklyon, which changed its name between episodes.

Sky’s phone rings and he says it must be Bloom, and Diaspro does an evil grin and… throws herself backwards off the cliff, falling to her doom! O_o

Sky catches her of course, even though he was above her on the cliff and there’s a definite animation fail as Diaspro sort of kneels in midair with Sky supporting her on one arm. Props to Rainbow that this is the first glaring mannequins-in-weird-poses I’ve seen this season!

Diaspro: oh, you saved me! <3

Sky: Be more careful next time!

Sky, she has wings. She would’a been fine. Unless Diaspro’s no longer a fairy because Season 8 timeslide, that is a possibility but it’d be a damn dark one because that would mean Diaspro is willing to risk her life to get Sky’s attention. I foresee a lot of this episode will probably be me microanalyzing all of Diaspro’s actions trying to put together a coherent picture of what she’s really like as a real character rather than the caricature that Rainbow is meaning to give us. I think the final picture will be of someone who should maybe be in some kind of inpatient mental health place getting counseling instead of out alone with the object of her obsession.

They get to the top and there’s this great Indiana Jones temple with arches and waterfalls. Sky’s phone rings again and Diaspro pops up with, “Look over there!” and when he’s still keen to check his phone, “Our mission can’t wait!” Sky grumbles but follows her without contacting Bloom.

Back to Alfea, I swear the approach shots of the school just get better and better. We may have just had a weird mannequin moment but the settings are really quality cg.

And here’s Miss Griffin! Still looking like herself, I think her hair is more lavender but I think the artist made her one-horn hairdo make a little more sense. Griffin and the witch students came to perform in the festival that still hasn’;t been named, and some of the witches have conjured a friendly green slime.

Stella’s here too, she bangs into an adorable witch with Stormy’s exact hair but in pale pink. In fact here are three witches who look just like niceified versions of the Trix! The not-Icy has pink and blue hair and a kitty purse. The Winx do not notice these lookalikes, but Stella does notice not-Icy’s purse.

Not-Darcy’s hair is brighter green than actual Darcy’s, it looks really good, and she and not-stormy both have kitty t-shirts. Why kitties? Anyway once the Winx have gone on their oblivious way Stormy says, ‘i’m gonna crush her!” revealing that these are the actual Trix. I think it would’ve been more fun if they just randomly looked like them. I hadn’t been spoiled with images of these undercover Trix and I love their looks.

The two groups of students gather in I guess a big classroom, it has tiered seating even though average class size at Alfea is twelve girls. A fairy student is showing off her talent, she conjures a bubble around herself and can float in it. The Trix can’t resist having a little fun. First icy pops her bubble, and when she conjures it again stormy blows magic wind sending her bouncing around the hall. Undetered, bubble-fairy goes up again. Darcy is about to prank her wen the students are summoned to the courtyard to begin their performances.

Faragonda and Griffin do this great setup, “Everything in the universe has its opposite. Light… and shadow. Fairies… and witches. But the same magic spark unites us all. The sparx! Sparx is the energy that created the magic universe! The sparx granted powers both to us, the fairies, and to our guests for this very special day, the witches.”

Ok, FG and Griffin, that was so awesome… except, retcon much? Great Dragon? Backstory of your whole universe? Ringin’ any bells? I mean, it would be an interesting change to have Bloom be less like maybe-an-avatar-of-the-source-of-all-magic but… I dunno. The Great Dragon legend is so… legendy. Solid. I like the idea that witch magic and fairy magic are from the same source and I always assumed it was, that source being the Great Dragon. This whole change, just to explain why Valtor needs the Trix to get the wishing star for him?

Stella: “I wouldn’t mind if the Sparx had skipped the witches.”

That wasn’t very nice, Stel.

Now it’s time for everyone to perform… but the Winx haven’t settled on what to do! Panic! Bloom says they should pick something they like doing together and Musa suggests they like playing music together. Bloom glows like this wasn’t a totally obvious thing. Of course it was gonna be a concert, what else could it have possibly been?

Sorry, I snark, I’m loving this episode but I kinda want to see Aisha go off and join a gymnastics group and Stella join a fashion group and Tecna join maybe a hologram 3d art making group and Flora join a gardening group and Bloom and Musa stand there looking confused. It’d be funny. And I still wonder if the other girls feel pressured by Bloom and Musa into all this performing.

But then the star box appears! The compass spins! It has decided it’s time to chase a prime star! The girls run off, assuming the star is in running distance I guess. The disguised Trix follow them.

To another part of the courtyard! The compass is pointing to the well. didn’t they find the Sirenix book down there or something, a few seasons ago? I kinda remember, there’s some cool stuff down a well.

The box speaks! The star is here, but there will be “tests and traps” and also, ‘You can reach your goal all alone or reach the stars joined as one.”

The Winx look down the well and there’s pillars and vaulting and all sorts of architecture down there, I guess there’s a big cave under the courtyard. They walk down spiral steps, following the floating box, until at the bottom there is a round pool of water with light shining up from it. A “door of light” apparently.

Cosmix up to go through the door! Did the song get a new stanza? Maybe I just didn’t notice it before.

They fly through the door.

Into a similar looking underground room hung with overgrown bushes and things. A ruiny sort of place. Flora asks a flower what they should do in this room, but the plant doesn’t want to talk to her. The girls do some magic and the plants recede, revealing each wall of the room has a giant lock and key in it. Six locks, six Winx, obviously. But the flowers are snappy and won’t let them turn the keys. The flowers have quite long stalks and Aisha gets the idea to fly around so the flowers will tangle up trying to catch them.

The Trix have reached the door of light. They switch to their Trix selves with no transformation sequence, too bad, then Icy and Darcy start fighting over who should go through the door first. Stormy beats them to it.

Stormy appears in a room with nine circles on the floor. One lights up, then another, and Stormy seems to automatically know she’s playing Twister. She has success, when a cloud slurps her up and dumps her back with her sisters. You can’t do it alone!

The Winx turn their six keys. Nothing happens. Stella realizes the keys and locks don’t match in color. The girls carry the keys to the matching locks and another door of light appears.

Which leaves them in another cube room with round medallions on the walls and a floating cube with mystical symbols on it in the middle. Tecna recognizes it as a die, and stella gives it a shove. The die bangs against some walls and the symbols on the die and the walls light up, but it’s clearly not the right sequence. Tec says all games have rules, they just have to figure them out. Time to experiment!

Trix stand on three twister circles and another door appears. they’re not exactly working together, Icy and Darcy keep shoving each other and stormy keeps rolling her eyes at them.

Tec figures it out, they have to match the symbols on the die to the ones on the wall. So they all together push the die to the matching wall and another door opens.

Now they’re in a room with shelves of what look like potion bottles. A round skylight and shelves of magical implements. This room looks like a place people might use instead of just another trick room.

Flora is delight.

Bloom seems to think the prime star is one of the objects, but there are so many.

Aisha finds an aqua ball that looks like the sphere protecting the star compass, but of course it isn’t that easy. The ball splits into two and then into many balls that go bouncing away. The Winx keep catching them and they keep multiplying.

The Trix find the die but can’t push it the same direction and it rolls around the room and squishes them.

Darcy figures out what to do, they have to move it together. Her sisters are having none of this ‘together’ stuff. Darcy uses magic and a mirror to reflect the symbol from one side of the die to the correct wall, opening the door. Darcy is the smartest Trix.

Now our villains are also in the magic item storage room. They go straight to finding the prime star-- wouldn’t they want to grab a bunch of magic items?? Here comes the aqua ball! They also recognize it as the prime star and all garb it at once… and here come lots more balls!

The Winx are trying to figure out which of their balls is the real one, I guess. They know they have to work as a team.

They do a very cool Elements of Harmony thing, each grabbing a ball and speaking words of teamwork.

Bloom: friendship

Musa: unity

Aisha: loyalty

Stella: sincerity

Tecna: collaboration

Flora: mutual understanding

They fly into the air and all the balls come back together into one ball which has a lil green star charm inside. Bloom puts it in the star box and the girls poof away.

Meanwhile the Trix are still drowning in balls.

The girls appear back at Alfea to Miss F announcing it’s time for them to perform. Wait, what about the other performances? I’ve seen a million Winx concerts, I wanted to see something else!

Concert! Minor fairies dance1 the boys except for Sky are there. Faragonda and Griffin clap along. Even witch students seem to be enjoying themselves.

Back with sky and Diaspro, they’ve found a big door. Diaspro says this mission is thrilling, but Sky can’t wait for it to be over and what does the map say so we can get on with it already?

Diaspro unrolls her map and it’s just emojis of her and Sky in a heart. Pffffhahahahaha! Oh that is so weird and dumb! Diaspro, yer off your nut, why do you even want a dude who can’t wait to be out of your company?

Ok, we didn’t get as much Diaspro analysis in this episode, but it was still a good one! Maybe next time!

#winx season 8 #winx club season 8 #winx club

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sylvieusedhyperbeam · 5 years

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pokemon thoughts idk

DISCLAIMER: this is just an opinion, holy hell those are a thing on the internet steve

so this is just me having collected my thoughts, because uh, i took my own advice and waited for more information - or a response from GF - in regards to decisions made with Pokemon Sword and Shield.

and quick disclaimer numero dos, i don’t doubt that there may very well be a select few people who are taking their outrage way, way, way too far by being toxic/bullying others/sending personal insults or death threats to GF employees on twitter. i’ve watched fandoms from the sidelines long enough to see how crazy they can get, soooo yeah. i. do not. condone. this. nope nope nope if you’re doing that shit please stop because that crosses a ton of lines that should not be crossed, and it’s not how you voice an opinion like a civilized human being. be civil, be reasonable, don’t be a dick. the end.

with that out of the way, on the flip side of that coin? just... getting a bit sick of seeing people with calm and valid criticisms of game freak’s decisions being talked down to/talked over/shot down with screams of “TOXIC/CRYBABY/SO ENTITLED!!!!” because guys, a lot of the criticisms i’ve seen are actually perfectly valid. like, seriously, stop.

and no, i’m not speaking from perfect neutrality here. because no, i don’t agree with the national dex decision. i don’t. because i personally think the reasons we’ve been given - as well as the generic/corporate PR non-response from masuda on the matter - are overall... they leave much to be desired, let’s put it that way.

now, i’m not an expert on technical specs and limitations, admittedly. but i just find it difficult to believe that a console like the Switch, that can run huge games such as Skyrim, Monster Hunter World, and Breath of the Wild (all games that are infinitely more complex when it comes to animation and storage), would have a hard time accommodating every pokemon.

that’s a lot of pokemon, yes, i am aware, but given the simplicity of the overworld as well as the rather limited range of animations for each pokemon? yeah, between a Pokemon game with every pokemon and Skyrim, my money says that Skyrim will still be the much bigger game. by leagues. that’s just my take on it for the ‘technical’ reasons we were given, idk.

and as for ‘balancing the meta’, lmfao. no, i’m not saying Game Freak can’t suddenly care about balance, that’s not what i’m saying at all, game developers can change their approach to certain aspects of their games, no problem. but uh, if balancing meta/competitive was their sole reasoning here, there’s a... very simple solution.

just... make and enforce... rules?

make a rule for VGC that only pokes in the galar pokedex can be used in competitive.

there. i balanced the gen 8 meta and i did it without cutting any pokemon. that was easy, lmao.

with my personal skepticism out of the way, i guess i’ll say that i’m a sentimental dumb with personal reasons for my disappointment, too.

because i have pokes that have been with me for years (lmao it legit makes me laugh to think that some of my treasured pokes are actually older than some children in today’s age), and i’m a bit disappointed that i might not be able to bring them with me to the Galar region. a really good friend of mine that i got back into contact with a while back? after getting him Ultra Moon for a late birthday present, i decided to surprise him with a shiny Treecko i bred to be on his team, because i knew Sceptile was one of his all-time favorite pokemon. he’s in the process of trying to ‘surprise’ me with a shiny (he won’t tell me which one so i can’t say for sure if it’s galar-dex, but still :IIII ) and just... these pokemon that we exchange as gifts to one another mean a lot to both of us, cheesy as that sounds.

so i guess we’re mutually disappointed that we might not be able to bring these little gifts we’ve given each other into the Galar region, where our friendly rivalry would continue.

and yeah, there’s a bit of salt to be had on my end that the kanto starters will likely be in the galar dex, while all the other past-gen starters have a decent chance of just getting shafted. it DOES burn my biscuits, just a little, because if that turns out to be the case, then just... wow. more pandering to gen 1 after they literally just got a pair of Yellow remakes especially for them. okay Game Freak, we get it, you hate everyone else. lmfao. guess i can sit back and just pray that my serperior will be transferable, but ‘eeeey not like anyone actually likes gen 5 mons, amirite. n_n

...my salt kinda derailed my thoughts a little, sorry.

anyway! guys, some pokemon mean a lot to certain people, and that’s just the bottom line. people are allowed to be upset that they can’t bring over pokemon with sentimental value to them, lmao for fuck’s sake. maybe some of those pokemon were on their team while they were playing the game to get through a really difficult time, and that’s why those pokemon mean so much to them. pokemon mean different things to people, and in fact that’s a huge part of what makes pokemon appealing!! there are different pokemon to suit different tastes!! you like big badass dragons, you got it, you like fluffy pink puffballs that use sparkles in battle, you got it, you like living flowers/keychains/machines, you got it, you like lizard or snake children, you got it, you like big fluffy doggos, you got it, you like cats, you got it, you like spoopy ghosts, you got it, the list goes on!

when you cut into that variety that’s been such a big selling point of the series? yeah, just... i don’t know, i don’t see how this isn’t going to hurt Game Freak and, in turn, hurt a franchise that i’ve come to love for a very long time.

i’m not voicing my opinions or disappointment here because i HATE Game Freak or because i’m determined to see nothing but the BAD things about Pokemon. it’s just the opposite! i really love these games and the vibrant, wonderful world they’ve created and how far they’ve come! i love the memories and friends i’ve made with these games! i want the games to be the best they can be, and sometimes... that means tough honesty over blind devotion. and i just can’t pretend that i’m 100% behind Game Freak in everything they do.

tl;dr, screaming “ENTITLED CRYBABY LOL Y’ALL GROWN ASS ADULTS THROWING A TANTRUM OVER A GAAAAAAME LULZ!!!” doesn’t make people who are upset or frustrated “””see the light”””. it just makes you look like an asshole. people are allowed to criticize these games and the decisions that have been made with them, especially if they voice their opinion in a reasonable, civil way that doesn’t harm or invoke harassment on anyone.

and i’m.... pretty disappointed that there are big name pokemon content creators who have apparently been mocking their own audiences for being upset about this. lmao wow, man. yeah, how about no and let people speak their goddamn minds without fear of being ripped apart.

in b4 “but we’re allowed to be supportive of Game Freak and we’re allowed to enjoy these games despite all the naysayers!!!”

being respectful should go

for

both

sides.

so yeah, just speaking my mind for a bit, here. it’s okay to disagree with each other, mang. and hell it’s perfectly 100% okay to disagree with me!! you don’t have to share my disappointment with these decisions, it’s all good, man. you do you and whatever makes you happy, i still wish you the best and hope you have a great day!!

but jesus, lmao just... some folks on BOTH SIDES need to have a little respect.

peace y’all, sylvie out

#pokemon #thoughts

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whispersafterdusk · 5 years

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The Master’s Apprentice - ch 12

As they climbed back up to Saarthal Onmund marveled at how much easier it was to make very minor changes to the environment (as he carved out stairs and created walkways from earth and stone ripped from the walls or dug into steep inclines, all so they could climb a roughshod but solid staircase all the way back up to the dragon wall room) versus trying to push outward against seemingly infinite tons of dirt and rock - he'd only practiced this sort of thing in the storage room and had been limited in what he was able and allowed to do, but with so much empty space here he felt only limited by what he could imagine and not by his personal skill level with the magic. ((continued below cut))

Brelyna had looked surprised and impressed at the skill as Onmund dug and shaped, and expressed an interest in learning it herself; he was able to show her a few things on the way up (and it was a very...VERY long climb) but found the bulk of his attention was needed to actually shift and shape the path, and as he worked he began to send his senses outward and started to piece together how things had opened up enough to allow him to fall through a year ago. Here and there he could sense very tiny openings zig-zagging around them - none of them were wider than two or three of his fingers - and they stretched roughly from the direction of Kestrel's buried home up toward the surface. It occurred to him that they couldn't have been underground without any means of getting air down there -- Kestrel might not need to eat or drink but surely she still needed to breathe, and so did he. As he pressed outward, tediously following along the crazy, winding, random paths of these little...air holes, he supposed, he began to match up their shapes and paths with the haphazard parts he'd tumbled down; at some point in the past someone must have found one of the tiny openings (he'd ask how they found it and why they wouldn't assume it was some kind of animal or insect burrowing, but they WERE dealing with the Prince of Schemes here) and had started digging their way down...and as they dug and shifted dirt (and removed a lot of it) the ground started to become unstable and collapse, which only made the openings wider, steeper, and more dangerous to navigate. Whoever had started the digging probably had no clear idea of where they were actually going and kept following the air hole tunnels, creating bigger holes and a steadily growing mess of open areas that eventually crossed paths with part of a glacier that let the ice invade the tunnels and add erosion into the jumbled chaos, and once he had a mental map of the jagged, dug out path from top to bottom he realized that yes...it really HAD been pure chance that he'd not only survived the fall but had managed to fall through the areas that were connected all the way down to crash through into the large cavern-like room where Kestrel kept her pet spider-construct (which, in his mind's eye, felt partially like a "blank" area in the earth -- he assumed Kestrel had warded the place to avoid detection and that PROBABLY prior to Varea's invasion he wouldn't have been able to see any of the compound at all). Not for the first time Onmund wished he'd had parchment and something to write with, to see if he could accurately sketch out everything he was sensing -- he tried a few times to describe the paths to Brelyna but it was difficult to describe something like this in a lot of detail without any visual aids. Not being able to "see" the shape of the compound and its rooms also made description rather difficult -- what he could sense stopped at the top half of the web-filled room where the spider was and couldn't go further, though he remembered quite well what the inside of that webbed room had looked like (and he still shuddered at the memory). He did wonder why the spider had taken him to Kestrel... Maybe it, as a magical construct, could sense magic in turn and that's how it knew to take him somewhere...Kestrel did say he wouldn't have been left alive if he'd not had magical talent, but that didn't explain WHY the creature would know to do that if no one had ever fallen before Onmund had come along; maybe the thing had once been used as another defense when she'd lived among mortals above ground and it was trained to bring anything it found to her whether it was magical or not. ...not that it really mattered how or why or anything like that now, and though he put the spider out of his mind to focus on his current task he did find himself curious if he could create a construct of his own sometime. Assuming he lived through whatever was coming. When they finally shoved their way through the dead roots and vines that crisscrossed the floor at the base of the dragon wall Onmund was mentally and physically exhausted, and laid there on his back for a moment to catch his breath after he'd hauled himself up onto the ring of solid ground around the vines. "Are you all right? I can go find the supplies on my own if-" He shook his head, flashing Brelyna a tired smile. "I'll be all right, I just need a second." She nodded and dropped down to sit beside him; he closed his eyes to try and gather himself and when he opened them he found Brelyna staring at him. "...what?" "It's just hard for me to believe everything you've told me...everything you've been through. And to think, I was mad at you for not letting us know you were alive." Onmund chuckled a bit and she joined in after a brief pause. "Believe me, those first few weeks all I could think about was escaping, and I still thought about it even after she almost killed me. It wasn't so bad after awhile but when I finally saw the crown and understood how serious it all was, THAT was when I finally stopped thinking of escape in any form. I mean, sure, I missed everyone, and it was difficult to wrap my head around being immortal, and-" he stopped and let out a noisy huff of breath. "-actually, I'm still not sure I've come to peace with that yet. It was one thing to imagine that I'd grow old and die down there and no one would ever know what happened to me, but it's something COMPLETELY different to know that I'm not going to grow old and feeble, that I'm going to outlive everyone I've ever known. If I never return to the surface I guess it'd be the same thing as dying - the same thing to everyone up here, anyway - because I'd still reach a point where no one knows or remembers me. To the world I'm just...gone. The world is going to change and I'll be the same." "Physically, maybe," Brelyna said after a moment. "That doesn't mean your mind, your emotions, or even your spirit are incapable of changing." "I guess. Still. The thought of outliving everything I know NOW is...weird, and uncomfortable. It might be different if I'm up on the surface as a part of the world and changing with it but until the crown is dealt with there's no returning here. I may as well be dead." He went quiet after that and so did she -- laying there in the silence letting his mind and body rest helped a great deal and soon enough he was rolling over to push himself to his feet. "All right, let's grab what we're after and get back - I feel safer down there than here." Saarthal felt even eerier now -- knowing that those most familiar with the place were under the control of...whatever Varea was, and could potentially have trapped or sabotaged this place on their way in, wasn't a pleasant thought; if Varea had never intended for anyone but herself to leave it seemed reasonable to be wary of any nasty surprises left behind but thankfully they encountered nothing but normal, dusty, crumbling halls. And about halfway back to one of the front rooms that they'd used as a sort of home base Onmund sighed loudly enough for Brelyna to hear. "What?" "It just occurred to me that... All right, thinking back to the very beginning, one of the things I'd held out hope for was if anything happened to Kestrel then I'd go back to normal. No more immortality or anything like that." Brelyna partly turned around to look at him curiously, then nodded as understanding crossed her face. "And that didn't happen." "That didn't happen," Onmund repeated, sighing again. "I should just stop thinking about it...there's no telling if I'll even survive a fight with Varea, or with whatever that crown actually does." "Well if you're going to think like that maybe you should focus on the immortality," Brelyna snorted, turning back around. "You can't go into a battle already expecting to lose." "YOU haven't seen what we're up against...and you also don't have the training that I do," he added quietly. They fell silent again and remained that way as they located the abandoned supplies and began to pack food and waterskins into a pair of burlap sacks; Onmund wished they had actual backpacks so he'd have both hands free on the way back down but he consoled himself with the fact that there'd been food left here at all -- he didn't want to venture anywhere near Winterhold or the College at the moment (and for good reason). By Brelyna's estimation of her own needs they packed about twelve days (if rationed carefully) of supplies into the now-hefty sacks, then let their footsteps turn back toward the far end of Saarthal; on the trek back down Onmund was careful to rip up and tear apart the stairs he'd created - easy enough even with one hand - and he even closed up the hole in the webbed room for good measure. They left the food and water in Onmund's room and then found themselves staring awkwardly at one another, both with the unspoken question of "now what?" on their minds. "-I have no idea how long Kestrel needs to recover," he started. "And, um...honestly, no idea what to do while we wait for her. I can always practice my spells and maybe show you what she's shown me? -- oh, wait. Let me show you the library." He hurried out of his room and out into the hall, pausing to let Brelyna catch up with him, and then led her over to the doorway of the library; there he paused and managed a sort of mischievous grin. "Prepare to be amazed. I know I was." The latch lifted under his hand and he pushed the door open then muttered and started the chain reaction of the lanterns lighting; he stepped out of her way to let her inside in time to watch as the library steadily brightened, and he grinned again at her look of surprise. "...it's huge." "Yes it is. With books Kestrel's only rules are don't damage them, don't write directly in them, and don't take a book out of the room its stored in. Other than that, read whatever you want." Brelyna stared around, then roughly elbowed Onmund in the side hard enough that he grunted. "You were alive down here all this time AND you had this many books. I can't believe you." Onmund rubbed the sore spot on his ribs with a grimace and a smile. "I'll leave you to it - I want to get some sleep. I'm...not sure if Kestrel's rules about exploring are going to apply to you so try to stay in here, in the sitting room, or in my room." Her left her to wander among the shelves and retreated back to his room, falling into bed without even kicking his boots off. There wasn't a way to tell how long he was asleep but it felt like he'd awakened too soon; groggily he rolled out of bed and straightened his clothing...then went to his wardrobe and changed into clean clothes (he really wanted a bath, but also didn't want to be caught unawares by anything or anyone while naked). When he went looking for Brelyna he found her curled up in the pile of cushions in the sitting room with a few books stacked nearby -- for a brief moment he felt like an ass for not offering her the bed and taking the floor himself but she looked comfortable ensconced among the pillows and with her books so he let her be. Of course that left him still wondering what else he should be doing; after pacing the hall a bit (and listening carefully at Kestrel's door for any sign of movement) he went into the Hall of Mirrors and began to go through his usual exercises. He didn't quite have enough energy or desire to get through all of them (it was going to take more than one nap to recover from all the torment Varea had put him through) but right as he was dropping down to sit against the wall he heard what he thought was Kestrel's door open. Or, what he HOPED was her door. What he knew for certain was A door had opened in the hall. Clambering back to his feet Onmund quickly moved back to the doorway and stuck his head through; his spirits rose a bit to see that yes, it WAS Kestrel's door that was standing open but he couldn't see Kestrel herself, and as he took a step into the hallway he heard a yelp from Brelyna. He broke into a run and skidded into the door frame of the sitting room where he could see Kestrel's hunched back and Brelyna's legs kicking out at the cadaverously thin mage. "Hey! Stop! Kestrel, wait-!" An invisible force blasted him out of the room; he hit the ground and rolled, landing almost upside down against the wall across from the door. He quickly righted himself and hurried back into the room in time to see Kestrel rising from the floor; she looked awful - worse than she'd looked when he'd first met her - and as he watched she spun and in one motion lit the fireplace and tossed something into it that audibly splattered and then sizzled in the growing flames. Brelyna lay on the cushion pile where Onmund had found her before, and was silently crying and tightly gripping a bloodied area on her shoulder. --in the same place Tolfdir and the others had had an injury. Onmund hurried over and fell beside her. "Let me see, let me-" "Heal her up, apprentice," came Kestrel's gravely order. "We've a lot of things to discuss." He managed to pry Brelyna's hands off her shoulder -- her robes were ripped open at the shoulder seam and he grimaced when he saw the palm-sized area of raw meat there. It looked like Kestrel had just cut out a wide circle of flesh but as Onmund began to heal the wound and the skin pulled together he could barely make out a whitish scar forming in its center that was...some kind of ugly, angular rune. "What did you do?" "Removed the mark," came Kestrel's answer. She staggered over to a chair (not her usual chair) before the fire and collapsed into it. "Taking no chances. She's clean and free now." Onmund nodded absently at that - there wasn't a reason to argue against freeing Brelyna from any sort of magic of Varea's - and used the sleeve of his shirt to mop up some of the blood; once she was healed and had a moment to calm down Brelyna shot Kestrel an angry look. "You could have just explained what you were doing instead of grabbing me like that." Kestrel didn't move from where she sat with her head leaned back and mouth slightly open, and for a few breaths didn't even respond. "...difficult to talk. Not important enough to waste strength on." Onmund conjured a little globe of water and thrust his hands in, swishing around to clean the blood off before tossing the orb out toward the hall and drying his hands on his shirt; he then cautiously approached Kestrel, eying her up and down. That softer, more alive look he'd seen on her corpse earlier was gone and she was even more gaunt than before, and her skin was a pasty white save for where it was tinged blue around her lips, eyes, and under her fingernails. "...can I do anything to help you?" he asked quietly. Again she didn't move, and he settled on the floor at her feet. "Would healing magic help?" Kestrel very, very slowly shook her head. "What helps I won't ask for. Tell me everything." He winced a bit at her voice - the more she talked the more hoarse it grew. "All right, just - I'll talk, you listen." "Start." He was faintly aware of Brelyna righting herself in the cushion pile, listening to him as he recounted how he'd awakened in the College, how Varea had initially introduced herself and then how everything had steadily gone downhill; he tried to gloss over the torture but didn't miss how Kestrel's jaw clenched when he'd mentioned it, and he was starting to go a little hoarse himself by the time he'd told the whole tale. For a time the only sound in the room was Kestrel's raspy breathing and the pop of the fire (the chunk of flesh had long since burned to ash), and Onmund remained at her feet waiting for an order, or...or something. She looked ready to keel over even if her body seemed intact; whatever that coffin had done had restored her but she seemed so weak and fragile...he prayed it was only brief, only temporary, because if Kestrel was in no shape to handle Varea then he had no idea what they could hope to do. Finally, with some effort, she raised her head and then let it drop to her chest, fixing her gaze on Onmund. "Did well. Proud of you." He managed a small smile at the praise, but it quickly disappeared. "You don't need to waste words on that. Are you sure I can't help you? Is there a spell I just don't know yet that could-" She managed to hold up a hand and he went quiet again at the gesture. "Blood, apprentice. Quickest. But I refuse to take it. Another few days, will recover." Blood...he should have thought of that. She WAS a vampire after all. "You just need blood? That'll help you heal? How much blood?" She was already shaking her head. "No." Suddenly Brelyna was standing behind him. "Why not? You're a vampire, don't you need blood to survive?" "Not technically," Onmund answered, before Kestrel did. "They won't die without it. ...but if you'll heal faster then why won't you take it? I'm offering it - we have to get that crown back and a few days might be all she'd need to create a disaster," he went on, turning his attention back to Kestrel. "I'm immortal, right? It won't kill me." Kestrel fixed him with a glare. "NOT immune to harm," she hissed, jabbing a bony finger into the middle of his forehead. "Think, apprentice." "Then use us both?" Brelyna asked hesitantly. "Take half of what you need from him, and half from me...unless, that'll somehow make us vampires too?" "No." "-does it have to be human or Mer blood?" he growled. Her pointy, bony finger poking at him had hurt more than he'd expected. "Can I go catch a deer or a goat and let you drain that?" Kestrel went quiet - he assumed she was thinking - but then shook her head again. "Too risky. Can't rely on 'what ifs.' Can't rush into unknown situation." "But if we don't stop her-" She held up a hand again to silence him. "Aware of risks. Calculating best course for success. I will not take your blood...too risky. Accidentally turning you is a danger." He let out a frustrated sigh but didn't push it further; it wasn't like she'd suddenly decided against taking his blood and he definitely didn't want to wake up as a vampire one day...and yet for this one situation he thought the risk of turning was laughably lesser than the danger the crown posed. "Can I...can I bleed into something?" he asked -- this would be his last attempt to- "No. Leave it. Help me back." -that was about what he was expecting. He stood and offered Kestrel a hand up out of the chair; her hands felt as dry as parchment and like a handful of twigs, but he lifted her up with little effort and let her lean on his as he led her back to the white coffin and helped her step inside. The door swung shut on its own and when it had closed he breathed a sigh of relief that was shortlived as he wondered what sort of chaos and destruction Varea would sow while they waited for Kestrel to regain her strength.

#The Master's Apprentice #tma #The Master's Apprentice - ch 12 #Onmund #Brelyna #AU #Skyrim

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