This was once a Writeblr. Maybe it will be one, once again. Amalgamations of Creations | Runes of Pen & Page Profile Photo by David Kennedy Background Photo by Jez Timms on Unsplash
Welcome to the Writing Blog! We are the Not Yet Dead Authors, the Storyverse Amalgamations System! You may refer to us as Natsume as a whole, or say hi to any of the specifics who are also running around within the blog / do the writes!
Our pronouns are we/they, and we are an aromantic / asexual genderfluid cluster of whispers drowning in the Void for more than two decades. So just another set of Wanderers who wish to reach out and touch the Worlds in a more pronounced way!
Full Introduction Under the Cut
A Proper Introduction
We write mostly fantasy but also dabble in horror, science fiction, dystopian and other works and writing styles. It's mostly just whatever it is that catches us in a choke hold and demands words for our continued Existence.
We do hold our own universe, the Storyverse, that we will hint, note, and talk about, depending on things, as well as a multitude of Worlds that will be given over to the Stories happening within them.
Our writing formats include: fanfiction, short stories, drabbles, flash fiction, novels, poems, and prompt responses! We enjoy rolling through forms and trying out different ways of telling and sharing stories, so please note that there will be a lot of everything on here.
We follow from the System's Blog, @365runesofthesystem, and will try to be really active in the community, so if you see us around, then feel free to indulge us! We love to be tagged in games and sent asks and the like and will try to get to all of them in due time.
The Amalgamations of our Creations
We actually have so many Works that we kind of jump around with, but we will present to you a few of them! Hopefully as we grow and get better with things, we will be able to actually display them in a good way!
Links To Be Updated
⊱ ─── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ─── ⊰
Grayland's Shadow
⚜ Original Work | Standalone Novel
⚜ Supernatural Horror | Low Fantasy, Horror Elements
⚜ First, Second, Third Person Present Tense
⚜ Mature Content: Death, Death Mentions, Murder, Blood, Implied Gore, Violence
⚜ First Draft | Revising and Editing
⚜ Second Draft | Scene Writing and Draft Rewriting
Intro Post | Page | Writing Tag
⊱ ─── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ─── ⊰
The Vagabond Child
⚜ Original Work | Series of Short Stories
⚜ Dystopian | Apocalyptic Aftermath, Survival
⚜ Third Person Present Tense
⚜ No Major Mature Content Warnings
⚜ First Draft | Revising and Editing
⚜ Second Draft | Worldbuilding, Outlining, Scene Drafting
Intro Post | Blog Page | Writing Tag
⊱ ─── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ─── ⊰
The Cityscapes of the Dragoons
⚜ Original Work | Standalone Novel
⚜ Fantasy | Action and Adventure
⚜ Dual Perspectives | Third Person Present Tense
⚜ No Mature Content Warnings
⚜ First Draft | Worldbuilding, Outlining, Scene Drafting
Intro Post | Blog Page | Writing Tag
⊱ ─── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ─── ⊰
A Magician & A Curse
⚜ Original Work | Standalone Novel
⚜ Fantasy | High Fantasy, Horror Elements
⚜ Dual Perspectives | Third Person Present Tense
⚜ Mature Content: Murder, Body Mutilation, Violence
⚜ First Draft | Worldbuilding, Outlining, Scene Drafting
Intro Post | Blog Page | Writing Tag
⊱ ─── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ─── ⊰
A System of Corruption
⚜ Original Work | Standalone Novel
⚜ High Fantasy | Action & Adventure, Superhero Elements
⚜ Third Person Present Tense
⚜ Mature Content: Violence, Blood / Blood Mentions, Death
⚜ First Draft | Worldbuilding, Outlining, Scene Drafting
Intro Post | Blog Page | Writing Tag
⊱ ─── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ─── ⊰
If you want some more information about these Works or any of the others, you can check out our Original Works Masterlist or Fanworks Masterlist, to see what we write and how we do things!
it is my absolute pleasure to announce that my debut book, Ruin's Reprisal, is now out in the world - that's right, it's release day! (im writing this at 23:55 uk time, im remarkably late but im finding that to be a special skill i have for writeblr these days)
if you're interested in reading it - you can find the link to Ruin's Reprisal here!
first and foremost, i want to say the most heartfelt thank you possible to everyone that has stood by me and my work on this journey - and today, years worth of hard work is finally done, it's finally something out there that i can share with you all, it's real, it's a completed, self-published book, and now others can experience the story, the characters and the world that have been keeping me going for so long!
and i'm tagging everybody i can possibly think of because it's such a momentous day for me and i can't not share it with you all!
WOW. Another rotation around the sun, and what a magnificent journey across the high seas it has been! 🏴☠️💛
It’s already been a year since I published Peter Hart on AO3, approaching a month since it went live on Amazon, and the amount of love and support for my stories and characters has been….absolutely outstanding. Unreal. I’m still in awe and beyond grateful for everyone who read, purchased, left reviews, comments, kudos, fanart, and fanfiction of Peter and Benjamin. The support has been overwhelmingly positive, and I can’t thank you all enough (though, that won’t stop me from thanking you all here)! 💖
Thank you all so, so much for such a wonderful reception on my stories, your continued support on all my projects, and your magnificent interactions with my posts. It’s been a hell of a lot of fun! ✨
As my writing and art continue to evolve, I hope you stick around to see what all is in store! 💫
Y’all are amazing. Thank you. 🙏✨
👇 Links to book below 👇
✨🏴☠️Peter Hart: Available for free on Archive Of Our Own or optional support at Amazon Kindle eBooks ✨
(Loosely combining with the ockissweek prompt "reunion")
It’s spring. Winter’s chill still clings to the ground, nudging me back to my den, but I’m hungry and Alioth is missing and I need to find him.
It’s quiet. I’m still not used to the quiet. The breeze rustles the leaves overhead, the trees groan in their language that’s almost inaudible to me, but it’s not—
“Good morning sleepyhead.”
Zinnia.
I turn around and there she is, hanging upside down from a tree branch, Amaranth’s claws buried in her shoulder to hang with her.
“Hi.” I stumble over to nuzzle my cheek to hers. “Seen Alioth?”
“I have a present for you,” she answers, twisting away and upright to jump down from her branch. “Here.” She holds something up to my lips, small, blue, sweet—
I snap it up the instant the realization hits, nipping Zinnia’s fingers in my haste. “Sorry.” I press my lips to the bite marks I’ve left because Otter says that’s how you make little things like that feel better, and lap up the little beads of blood welling up on her skin. The taste of blood is sharp and metallic in my mouth, overwhelming the tart sweetness of the berry.
“You’re worse than Amaranth.”
The squirrel in question chitters on Zinnia’s shoulder as Zinnia reclaims her hand.
“Sorry.” I lick my lips, my hunger rearing its head now that I’ve gotten a taste of blueberries again. “More?”
Zinnia laughs. “Come on.” She whirls around and takes off through the trees. I chase after her without hesitation, tripping over invisible roots in my haste to keep up.
It’s summer. The sun is bright and hot overhead, but I’m still cold. I miss Alioth’s presence at my shoulder, furry and warm and the perfect place to take a nap when it’s too hot to think of doing anything else.
The sunlight sparkles off the water. I’ve never seen so much in my life. On a far shore, I can see figures, one that’s small and maybe Otter frolicking in the water, maybe Penguin splashing a ways away. It’s hard to see, with the sun so bright and the reflections in my eyes and I just—
A warm hand slips into mine, still dyed red and sticky from the berries. Zinnia’s lips and teeth are similarly red and purple as she grins at me. I know my own mouth must be stained purple-blue from the blueberries.
“Where’s Alioth?” I ask, because it’s not like him to be so far out of sight.
“Ready?” Zinnia asks. Amaranth scurries from her shoulder to settle on a wooden post of the platform we’re on and sets to work cleaning the berry remains from her own fur.
I look out at the water, then back at Zinnia. “Yeah.”
“Three.”
Zinnia is sun-warmed and sweet by my side.
“Two.”
But Alioth’s absence continues to nag at me.
“One.”
We take off running, Zinnia keeping pace with me even as I stumble over the uneven surface of the platform, and when we reach the edge we jump. Zinnia soars through the air, bright and laughing and I—
I hit the water, and the cold shocks the breath from my lungs. It sinks its claws into my bones and it screams and howls, and the darkness presses in on me like the walls of my room—
It’s fall. The leaves crunch beneath my feet, the cold nipping at my heels, but Alioth isn’t in our den and I refuse to go to sleep without him beside me. It’s too empty. It’s too cold. I need to find him.
“You’re up late.”
Zinnia is perched on a tree branch, Amaranth settled in her lap and slowly cracking away at a nut.
“Can’t find Alioth,” I explain.
“You know where he is.”
“If I knew where he was then we’d already be asleep!” I snap. I’m tired and I’m cold and I miss Alioth and I need to find him—
Zinnia carefully lifts Amaranth onto her own branch, then leaps down from the tree to land lightly in front of me. She steps close and reaches up on her tip toes to nuzzle into my neck, her hands going to my pockets the way she does when she’s trying to nab something or leave me a treat.
“You know.”
The wind whistles through the trees, dislodging the dying leaves that sting us as they whip past. My chest feels hollow, cold. Zinnia is warm, but she’s not Alioth and she can’t fill, fix whatever’s broken inside of me because of his absence.
“I can’t—I don’t want—”
The sky grows dark overhead. Zinnia steps back, her dark eyes deep and serious and unreadable as ever.
“I need to find him.” My voice is barely audible over the rising wind.
Zinnia points. In the distance, I hear a roar. It sounds like Alioth, but something’s off about it. He’s scared, or in pain, and I need to help him.
I take off running, but before I can stumble more than a few steps, the ground opens up beneath my feet.
“Alioth!”
But he’s too strong, and the earth won’t respond to me like it usually does, and I fall down into the dark and the cold.
~
I wake to the crash of thunder reverberating through the building, shaking my bones and echoing in the hollow space in my chest.
My den is empty. It’s been empty for years.
I’m cold. I can hardly remember the last time I wasn’t cold.
I can’t remember. They’ve all been buried in the space he should be and drowned by the emptiness.
The sky howls, and I scream along with it. The earth shifts under my hands, writhing and lashing out in response.
It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything.
He’s gone. All that’s left is a pit of despair and rage in the places where he used to be.
I’m alone.
Something bumps into my hand, disturbed by my waking. Something small, and round, and soft, and sweet—
(Ignore any and all missing worldbuilding you see lol. Combining with the ockissweek prompt "first")
Silence fell in the courtyard the moment Oseri appeared, rippling outwards as more and more and more people noticed aer presence. Oseri had long since grown used to the attention ae got, so it was easy for aer to ignore the questioning stares to focus in on dark iridescent feathers on the far end of the courtyard.
Khima looked up as ae approached and made to stand. Oseri spoke before te could do more than gather ter feet under ter.
“Give me the chick.”
Khima’s beak fell open for a split second, then te snapped it shut with an audible clack. “I’m fine,” te said lowly, looking down at the bundle held against ter chest. “Ae isn’t a distraction.”
“Give me the chick,” Oseri repeated, making it clear that this wasn’t up for debate.
For a moment, Khima looked like te would like to argue, but to ter credit, the expression quickly vanished with a soft ruffle of feathers. Gently, with obvious reluctance, te unwrapped the chick held against ter chest and held aer up to Oseri.
Oseri took aer, long-forgotten instincts kicking in to support the chick’s head as ae settled in Oseri’s arms.
Khima offered the wrappings to Oseri. “If ae needs anything,” te started hesitantly.
“I can handle a chick,” Oseri said firmly. “You are to focus on your training.”
Khima’s feathers ruffled almost unnoticeably, but all te said was, “Of course.”
Satisfied with ter acquiescence, Oseri turned and headed back for the door. The number of stares had increased in both quantity and curiosity, both due to aer interaction with Khima and the fact that ae was now holding Khima’s chick. And aer own chick, though Oseri was confident that most didn’t know that particular fact.
The door closed behind Oseri with a solid thud, and only then did ae relax slightly and look down at the chick in aer arms.
Kizali had taken the entire transition surprisingly well, not uttering a single peep throughout the entire exchange. Even now, ae blinked up at Oseri with startlingly orange eyes that Oseri hadn’t seen on another in centuries.
“Well then,” Oseri said lowly. “While I appreciate Khima’s desire to begin your training early, there will be enough time for you to learn to fight when you’re older.”
Kizali chirped, sounding almost offended.
Oseri couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped aer. “Walking and flying first, little one,” ae said. “Then we’ll discuss the matter further.”
Oseri made aer way back up to aer room, but before ae settled down, ae stepped out on the balcony overlooking the courtyard.
The courtyard’s normal activity had resumed in aer absence, the space filling with noise and the flurry of a rainbow of feathers. Oseri quickly picked out Khima’s dark iridescence among them all, and as if sensing aer scrutiny, Khima glanced up to meet Oseri’s eye. Ter gaze briefly shifted to the chick still nestled in Oseri’s arms, then te looked away to focus on ter training.
Satisfied, Oseri turned back to aer room and settled in a chair just out of sight of the courtyard, but still well within earshot of its commotion.
Kizali chirruped to get Oseri’s attention, reaching up with short little arms.
“Yes little one?” Oseri asked, inclining aer head towards the chick.
Kizali grabbed at Oseri’s beak, causing an unfamiliar feeling to flash through aer chest. The feeling, ae realized a few moments too late, was panic.
Kizali yelped and jerked away, and Oseri caught sight of blood welling up between the tiny feathers coating aer hand.
“Shh,” ae soothed the chick, even as Kizali began to cry. “It’s alright.” Oseri took aer little hand in aer own and ran a thumb over the downy feathers, healing the thankfully shallow cut beneath.
“You couldn’t have known,” ae continued softly. “Mine was never constructed for love and comfort like you must be used to.”
Kizali whimpered, aer tantrum forestalled by the healing even though tears still shone like stars in those sunset eyes. Oseri hesitated, but those big teary eyes soon won aer over.
Ae sighed and shifted the chick in aer lap to support aer with one arm. With aer free hand, ae reached up and undid the clasps hiding amongst the feathers at the back of aer head. Once undone, ae carefully removed aer mask and set it aside, wiping away the tiny beads of blood Kizali had left on the beak.
“There,” ae said softly. “All safe for you now.”
Kizali blinked up at aer, looking utterly baffled. Oseri couldn’t blame the chick though. After all, aer entire short life so far had been spent amongst the [birbs], and Oseri knew that even compared to the other races of this world, ae was unique.
“All safe,” Oseri repeated, leaning down to press aer nose (too short, too soft, too close) to the tip of Kizali’s beak. Ae felt exposed without aer mask, but the look on Kizali’s face as the chick reached up to grab aer nose was almost worth it.
Kizali giggled, aer previous distress already forgotten as ae poked at Oseri’s bare face.
Oseri huffed, lifting aer head slightly. “That’s enough little one, that tickles.”
Kizali was undeterred and continued reaching for aer, chirping nonsense all the while.
Despite aer best attempts, Oseri found it difficult to resist Kizali for long. “Very well.” Ae reluctantly acquiesced to the chick’s wordless demands and leaned down to press a kiss to Kizali’s head. The feeling of feathers against aer lips was strange, something long forgotten but familiar, reeking of a past that ae had left behind in another world and locked beneath metal feathers and a sharp beaked mask.
“Just for now,” ae murmured against the tiny feathers. “While you’re still young.”
Even as the compulsion magic settled over her, sticky and rancid and worming its way beneath her skin, Melody still fought. The beacon still shone brightly out of the corner of her eye, silver blue and full of hope, moving erratically as the person at the other end made his way to her. Melody just had to buy enough time for him to make it there.
“Alright.” Melody’s captor smirked as he crouched down in front of her. “Let’s try this again. Give me your name.”
Melody stared him down, biting the inside of her lip as the compulsion dug into her like hooks. Name magic was dangerous under the best conditions and downright precarious in situations like her current one, but with the secrets she and her name held, Melody knew that in this case it would be deadly.
The beacon moved, wavering frantically as it swung in and out of Melody’s field of vision.
Please hurry.
The smirk slipped from her captor’s face, replaced with a dark look of anger. “I said, give me your name.”
Melody bit down so hard she tasted blood, determined and stubborn and oh so terrified as her body did its best to betray her.
Her captor stood, but before he could say anything, he flinched, a choked noise escaping his throat. A moment later, he collapsed as Finn pulled his dagger out of his chest.
“Are you okay?” Finn asked, falling to his knees in front of Melody and dropping his dagger in favor of flittering his hands over her to check for injuries, the beacon between them vanishing at his touch.
Melody finally let herself relax, but compulsion magic was an ugly thing that took a while to fade even after the death of its caster.
“Melody Cassiopeia Rose Vernize di Valencia.” Unwilling as it was, Melody kept her voice as quiet as she could just in case, though she doubted Finn would be so focused on her if there was any immediate threat. “Ugh.”
She turned her head and spat, trying to get rid of the foul taste in the back of her throat. “I’m… okay. Mostly,” she continued, both for Finn’s sake and because the compulsion made her. “Better now that you’re here. Stupid compulsion magic.”
“Oh.” Finn brushed her hair back to look her in the eye. “Physically, how are you?”
“Sore,” Melody answered. “Bruised. Think I nearly bit a hole through my lip. But that’s the worst of it.”
“Good.” Finn began to cut the ropes tying her arms and legs. “They’d have me to answer to if they hurt you any worse.”
“I thought they were already answering to you?” Melody weakly joked.
“More than they already are,” Finn said with a grim smile. He cut through the last of the ropes, then ran his hands over Melody once again as if to reassure himself that she was truly physically unharmed. “Jared and Will are clearing the rest of this place, but we should still get out of here quickly. We can talk more when we get somewhere safe, okay?” He gave her a searching look, so hesitant and caring and worried.
“Okay,” Melody agreed.
Finn was apparently appeased by that, as he stood and helped Melody to her feet. He paused for just a moment, holding her close and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmured.
“Because you came and rescued me,” Melody answered. She knew they needed to get going, but she still nestled into him, so grateful for his constant, steadfast presence in her life.
“I—” Finn cleared his throat. “Yeah. We can talk more later.” He kissed her again, then reluctantly untangled himself from her. “Come on.”
(Ignore the fact that I'm posting these out of order, Day 11 is being a butt about actually being written but I wanted to get the ones I have done out by the end of ockissweek. Anyhoot, combining with the ockissweek prompt "forbidden")
Felix came to with a pounding headache and the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He gingerly blinked his eyes open and found himself staring directly down somebody’s fingers.
He blinked again once, twice, then let his eyes wander up singed skin till he met pale green eyes. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice blurry and almost unintelligible.
As if his voice had broken a spell, Lyra dropped her hand and took a step back. “I should ask you the same thing,” she said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“This is my room.”
Lyra laughed, apparently overcoming her startled response and slipping back to her carefree self. “You know full well what I mean Feli,” she said lightly, closing the space between them and plopping herself down next to Felix on his bed. “You are not supposed to be here, in this world. And you’re especially not supposed to be playing with the powers of gods.” She reached out and ran a finger down Felix’s throat, and he felt when her fingers hit bandages instead of skin.
He reached up and grabbed her hand before beginning the arduous process of sitting up while being half trapped by Lyra on his sheets and still suffering from a terrible headache. “You’re one to talk about playing with the powers of gods,” he muttered, pressing his thumb against the palm of her hand where her warlock mark was hidden.
“Feli,” Lyra said in a sing-song voice, her smile turning more sardonic, “you’re avoiding my question.”
“So are you,” Felix pointed out.
“Hmph.” Lyra stuck her tongue out at him, and for a moment it was like they were still children, like they’d never been forced to grow up too fast and in opposite directions.
Felix resisted the urge to return the gesture. Instead, he pulled one of his legs close so he could rest his aching head against his knee as he ran through what he remembered of the last few days. Had it really been less than a week ago that they had been heading home, less than a week since they parted ways from Ivy and Jakob and Calix, less than a week since it seemed the world started coming apart at the seams? And already people were looking to Felix for answers to this mess that he did not have but—
“I miss you.”
Felix blinked, turning to look at Lyra. She was pointedly looking at a point just over his shoulder, purposefully not looking him in the eye even as she spoke.
“I’ve missed you for a long time,” she continued. “That’s why—you can tell that I’ve been here sometimes, while you’re gone?”
“Yeah,” Felix said quietly.
“So, yeah.” Lyra shrugged. “And then I heard rumors that you were back earlier than you should be, and getting into trouble, and I just had to see you for myself.”
“I’m fine.” Felix sighed and closed his eyes, squeezing Lyra’s hand.
Lyra brushed the fingers of her free hand over the bandages around Felix’s throat again.
“I’m fine,” Felix repeated. As he opened his eyes, he caught sight of a burn on her arm, disappearing into her sleeve. “You’re hurt.”
“Ah, it’s nothing,” Lyra said, waving her hand dismissively, but Felix was already untangling himself from his sheets to stand.
“Stay there,” he said, even as Lyra made to stand as well. Lyra had always been wild and rebellious even before she decided to become a warlock, but Felix had always been able to tame her just a little bit. And apparently he still held that power over her now, as she fell back onto his bed without any argument. Either that, or the burn hurt far worse than she was willing to admit out loud, but Felix hoped for both of their sakes that it was the former.
Thankfully, he had long since started keeping medical supplies close at hand, due to a combination of the tendency of several of his friends to rush headlong into a fight, Ivy and her interest in potions, and his own suspicions when he first noticed Lyra breaking into his room, so it didn’t take him long to pull them out of their drawer and return to his bed. Without asking, Lyra obligingly rolled up her sleeve, giving Felix a good look at the burn that covered most of her forearm.
He must have made some sort of face, because she said, “It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.”
Felix gave her an unimpressed look even as he set to work covering the burn with healing cream. “Do I even want to know what happened?” he asked.
“Things just got a little out of hand,” Lyra said with a careless wave of her free hand. “Nothing to worry about.”
Felix sighed. “And that’s one of the main reasons why warlock magic is forbidden,” he said pointedly, grabbing a roll of bandages to begin winding them around her arm.
Lyra flicked his nose. “Don’t you lecture me about warlock magic,” she said. “Fire is just hard to control sometimes, that’s all.”
“Then why did you choose…” Felix trailed off, unsure of how to finish the question.
Lyra picked up where he left off and answered him. “Because out of my options, fae was the only one who could give me what I needed at the time.”
“A way to save your mother.”
“Mhm,” Lyra hummed.
Felix sighed and tied off the bandage at her wrist. As much as he disagreed with her choices, he couldn’t fault her for why she’d done it.
Lyra’s head snapped around. “Somebody’s coming,” she said, standing up. “Which means I should take my leave.”
She leaned down and kissed Felix on the forehead, but Felix grabbed her wrist as she made to straighten up again. Without stopping to think, he half rose, half pulled her down into a proper kiss.
Lyra made a startled little noise, but melted against him.
“I—” Felix muttered when they broke apart, then cleared his throat. “Stay safe.”
“I always try,” Lyra laughed. She hesitated, but Felix could now hear the footsteps as well, and she reluctantly pulled away.
“I mean it.” Felix let her move, but he didn’t let go of her wrist. “Be careful. Please.”
Lyra softened. “I always try,” she repeated. She leaned in, paused, then pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’ll be around,” she murmured. “If you… need… anything.”
Felix nodded and reluctantly let her go. Lyra gave him one last smile, then she whirled around and, before he could protest, opened the window and leapt out.
Felix yelped and darted after her, but before he could even make it to the window he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
⛈️ Hopefully, we will be able to figure out how to catch up with everything at some point in the coming days, but for now... I am sure it is fine if we simply do as we can. ⛈️
In which Beau finds out he has a name.
There is something special about the Being who takes possession of them.
They are well aware of his Existence. They are nothing more than a tool for the Beings of Humanity around them, nothing but a wellspring of Knowledge that they do not know how to access. That is until they are given over to another - the soft words shared between the Beings, the currency changing hands, the small whisper of Knowledge that escapes them - and the Observer realizes that this one is different. There are different expectations, different thoughts that drive this Being. He does not see them as a tool; he finds their Existence closer to himself, a Being to define and develop.
It starts small, with commands and orders that hold only one expectation; the Observer is to follow, the Being is to lead. It is an easy role to fall into, one that comes so naturally that the Observer barely thinks before following through with whatever it was that was demanded. It is simple work, more than easily completed with the Knowledge and Magicks that are at their disposal. The Being is more than satisfied, more than acceptable to both the Observer and their actions. There is little else from the commands and orders, and the Observer notes that the Being is different in his intentions, but similar in his actions. He wanted something that the Observer had and he used it easily.
Humanity is nothing if not predictable.
Until the Being before them isn't.
A word, a designation, a simple and single sound comes from the Being. The Observer does not take notice of it as first, Knowledge supplying that it is neither a command nor an order. It is nothing more than the noises of the Being, words marked useless to the Observer since they hold no weight to the reason of their Existence. They ignore the word, allow the soft whisper of Knowledge to take focus as they wait for whatever purpose the Being gives them next.
The word comes again, this time louder, clearer, a little less background noise and more firm in tone. But it is still nothing else but a word, and the Observer leaves the Being to whatever it is that he does when he is not asking something of them. Knowledge comes to crowd against his thoughts, drowning out most things save the voice of the Being that commands them.
And then the word comes again, this time followed closely by a command far too clear to be anything else.
"… Look at me."
The Observer blinks, attention snapping to the Being as their entire focus bends to him. He is staring, soft curiosity and mild exasperation more than obvious in both his voice and body. It is as if there is something the Observer is missing, and they tilt their head at the Being. There is something in his eyes, a small debate within himself before he gestures the Observer forward, closer to him and with all the intention of focus not leaving. They comply easily, stepping closer to the Being and allowing their attention to be undivided. The Being points at them when they come, keeping his finger between them as they speak.
"Beau. That is what you respond to now. When I call for you, you need to focus on me."
The Observer blinks, takes in the words and the command before they tilt their head to the other side. There is small confusion with the command, if only because there was never a single thing that denoted them against the Beings of Humanity. They were given nothing but commands and inquires, known as nothing more than a tool and wellspring.
The name is an anomaly, and the Being that gives it to them is more than that.
The Being stares them down, and the Observer waits for something else, a more obvious command or an explanation for whatever it is he is asking. Neither comes, the Being instead trying something else to make his intentions and words clearer. He points to himself, a hand going to touch against his chest as he does.
"I am Warren."
He waits a beat, the Observer blinking before realizing that he is waiting for acknowledgement from them. They give a single nod, wait as the Being nods with them before he continues. He points at the Observer, watching them as he states the designation again.
"You are Beau."
He waits again, the expectation for acknowledgement obvious. The Observer stutters through the Knowledge given. They were never given a name, never given anything to denote them from anything else.
You do not normally denote a tool as something more.
Something sits in that thought and the Observer frowns for a second before it is gone, everything shifting through the Knowledge before it becomes more than obvious that the subject is something that will not be dropped. Warren waits with all the patience of expectation; he is simply awaiting acknowledgement. The Observer stares the Being down, tries to find anything within them that would go against the man before them.
There is nothing, and the Observer blinks again before they give another nod, sharp and uncertain but obvious. Warren smiles with the acknowledgement, nodding with the Observer before he gives a wave of dismissal. The Observer watches him turn away, the Being giving him a small look as he walks away.
(Combining with the ockissweek prompt "caught". Also for context, Julian is the one playing Revenant here, and this is so damn long cuz I got talked into making them dance lol)
Stepping through the archway was like stepping into another world. The courtyard beyond was like something out of the romance books Despereaux occasionally indulged in on his free time. Fairy lights twined up the walls and banisters and across the open sky of the courtyard, interspersed with little floating orbs that twinkled and drifted in the breeze like fireflies. The lights illuminated pathways across the courtyard, lined with ivy and flowers in every color Desperaux could think of that turned the space into a little labyrinth of plants. Soft music played from speakers out of sight, just barely loud enough to be heard over the murmur of conversation from the courtyard’s inhabitants.
Inhabitants that, at as far as Despereaux could see, appeared to all be villains. Some were dressed casually for a party, while others were suited up for a fight like Despereaux, but all of them had their faces partially to fully covered, hiding their identities more than any hero would.
Desperaux’s blood went cold, but other than a few curious glances at his entrance, nobody seemed to give him a second glance. Sometimes, being a rookie had its perks, like being virtually unknown by most villains.
It also had its drawbacks, as Despereaux found himself frozen with indecision over his next steps. Did he slip out and alert somebody? Sneak around and listen in, in case any of them were plotting something? Try and take them all down himself, although with his powers and the number of villains he could see, that would probably be the worst idea?
Despereaux took a step back, trying to fade into the shadows to give him some more time to think, but to his dismay he hit an object that hadn’t been there a few moments prior, followed by the sound of breaking glass. He slowly turned around to face the villain he’d run into.
The villain towered over him, expression stormy as he looked between Despereaux and his fallen drink. “The fuck you think you’re doing?” he growled.
“I—” Despereaux squeaked. Polite manners were screaming at him to apologize, but he was a hero and this was a villain and oh lord the guy was looking more and more like he wanted to deck Despereaux straight into next week and—
An arm slipped around Despereaux’s shoulders, shocking him out of the daze he’d fallen into. “Honest mistake,” a terribly familiar, horribly welcome voice said from their position at Despereaux’s back. “Right, little mouse?”
Despereaux held onto his stubborn pride for a few moments longer, but Revenant subtly squeezed his shoulder in silent admonishment, and Despereaux reluctantly gave in.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
The villain still glared down at him.
“I’d like to remind you,” Revenant said quietly, “that you did agree to our little peace treaty here.”
After what felt like forever to Despereaux, the villain turned away. “Fine,” he said lowly. “But if you decide to give him to that cat of yours, I want to watch.”
Despereaux bristled, but Revenant just laughed lightly. “Unfortunately, Ombre can’t have him. I don’t like sharing.” With that, they pulled Despereaux away, deeper into the den of vipers.
Once they were hopefully out of sight of the villain, Despereaux felt comfortable shoving Revenant’s arm off his shoulders. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.
“Saving your ass from a fight that wouldn’t do your pretty face any favors, little mouse,” Revenant replied, unfazed as ever by Despereaux’s blustering.
“I—You—That’s—” Despereaux spluttered for a few moments, trying to find the words he wanted to say.
Revenant apparently thought it meant they could keep talking, because they grabbed a glass off a nearby serving tray and pushed it into Despereaux’s hands. “Have a drink darling.”
“I—what?”
“Don’t worry, it’s nonalcoholic.” Revenant looked over their shoulder at him and winked. “After all, I know you’re underage.”
“Excuse you!”
Revenant laughed, manhandling Despereaux into a corner and leaning against the wall next to him. “Now,” they said, loosely hooking their leg over Despereaux’s, “I believe you owe me an explanation of what you’re doing here.”
“I don’t owe you shit!” Despereaux snapped, shoving at them.
Revenant just grabbed his wrist and easily checked him back into the corner. “I did save your ass,” they said, their voice lowering. They weren’t threatening, not yet at least, but Despereaux still felt a shiver run down his spine. He kept forgetting just how easily Revenant could overpower him.
“Let me go.” Despereaux hated how his voice went too quiet, wavering slightly on the last word.
Revenant backed off, but still blatantly stood between Despereaux and the exit. “Little mouse,” they said, and Despereaux hated even more how their voice had softened even through their vocoder. “Have a drink. It’s not spiked.”
Despereaux put the glass down on a nearby ledge before crossing his arms, trying to regain some semblance of defiance after cracking so badly.
“As for letting you leave, well…” Revenant sighed. “I’m afraid you’d run straight to your little supervisor about our little soirée here, and I’ve put far too much time and effort into putting this together to let some so-called heroes ruin it.”
“They are heroes,” Despereaux muttered, still not able to put as much heat into his voice as he’d like to.
“Agree to disagree, little mouse,” Revenant said lightly. “Point is, you’d bring plenty of unwanted guests here, and I really don’t want to deal with the fight that would cause tonight.”
“Oh I’m so sorry I’m ruining your little party,” Despereaux said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
To his annoyance, Revenant laughed. “Oh, you by yourself aren’t ruining anything little mouse,” they said. “Only if you tell somebody, which I know you will if I let you leave.”
“And if I promise not to?” Despereaux asked, willing to lie through his teeth to get out of here even though they had the uncanny ability to call him on his bullshit more often than not.
Revenant’s eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile, though something about it seemed more sardonic than affectionate for once. “Oh little mouse,” they purred. “You shouldn’t mistake affection for trust, you know.”
“I—” Despereaux broke eye contact with them, unsure why that was flustering him out of everything. “Whatever,” he muttered, then in an attempt to change the subject, “Why are you even having this… party or whatever?”
“Many, many reasons,” Revenant responded, letting Despereaux have his retreat. “We’d be here all night if I were to go into it, and I have better ideas on how to spend that time.”
Despereaux’s cheeks heated with a blush as Revenant winked. “Fuck off.”
As expected, the words did nothing to dull the amusement in Revenant’s silver eyes. “Sometimes, people just want a bit of lighthearted fun,” they said, and it took Despereaux a moment to realize they were answering his question. “And I just so happen to have the connections and the willingness to put this together. That’s the short of it.”
“And I’m sure the fact they’re all villains hiding their identities is just a coincidence.”
“Do you want to go back to discussing how your view of “heroism” is so very naïve?” Revenant asked.
“Like yours is any less biased,” Despereaux shot back.
Revenant laughed. “Oh little mouse, if only you knew.”
“Knew what?”
In a flash, Revenant had Despereaux pushed up against the wall, so close he swore he could feel their breath even through the mask that always covered the lower half of their face. Despereaux managed to stifle the startled noise he made, but he still reflexively went to push them away before remembering how futile it would be.
“If you want to know,” they purred in his ear, “then you’ll have to gain my trust first.”
“And how do I do that?” Despereaux asked, turning his head slightly to try and keep them in his line of sight. “Without straight up dropping out of college and heroism and everything.”
Revenant hummed, their fingertips warm even through the fabric of Despereaux’s suit as they traced little patterns against his waist. “You know, that would be a wonderful way to jumpstart my trust in you,” they murmured. “But since that’s apparently out of the question…” They trailed off into a thoughtful silence, nestling into Despereaux.
Despereaux knew he shouldn’t be encouraging this, knew that he should be fighting and trying to get away, but they were warm, and something about their weight pressing against his shoulders and hips felt… almost comforting. Not that he would ever admit that out loud, and especially not when they could hear him.
Before he could think of something to say though, he was startled by a sudden sing-song voice. “Ooooooh.”
Revenant sighed and pushed themself away from Despereaux, allowing him an opportunity to finally collect himself and try and rebuild the walls he was supposed to keep up against them.
“Marelle,” they said. “I thought you were out with Sera tonight.”
“Sera’s home now,” Marelle chirped, eyes glinting and crinkled from the undoubtedly shit-eating grin hidden behind her mask. “So I thought I’d come say hi to Luciole, and he told me he hadn’t seen you in a while, and now I know why.”
“Mhm.” Revenant ruffled Marelle’s hood. “Does he need anything or is he just being clingy?”
“Just curious,” Marelle corrected. “Should I go tell him you caught yourself a mouse?”
Despereaux bristled, but Revenant just laughed. “If he’s that worried about not seeing me, then sure,” they said. “And tell him I have it handled.”
“Excuse you,” Despereaux said indignantly.
“Like you had him handled that one time?” Marelle asked, her tone too innocent to be believed.
Revenant rolled their eyes. “Kids these days,” they grumbled.
Marelle giggled. “Bye Rev,” she chirped, “and bye Despereaux.” She added a little flourish to his name, making Despereaux flush because what the fuck did she think she was implying, but before he could call her out on it, she disappeared into a portal as it flickered in and out of existence.
“You didn’t catch me,” Despereaux muttered, breaking the silence that had fallen in her wake.
Revenant raised an eyebrow and grabbed Despereaux’s hand. “Didn’t I?” they asked.
“I—You—”
Goddamn walls and goddamn maybe-necromancers with their goddamn wrecking balls.
Revenant laughed and tugged Despereaux out of the corner they had been keeping him in. “And since I have you caught,” they said, “come on.”
“Where are you taking me?” Despereaux asked, digging in his heels.
“I am taking you nowhere,” Revenant said airily. “We are going somewhere a little more spacious, and a little more private.”
Despereaux glanced around, only to immediately regret it when he noticed how many people weren’t even bothering to hide their interest in him and Revenant. He debated arguing for a few moments, but he hated feeling so many eyes on him, so he reluctantly conceded.
“Fine.”
Revenant led him back into the maze of flowery paths, still away from where Despereaux had entered, but at least now also away from the prying stares.
“So,” Revenant said after a few moments, “I did mention better ways of spending the night than talking about the reasons why I do things, and since I know you are just dying to know what those ways are—”
Despereaux really wasn’t, but he knew they wouldn’t care if he protested anyways.
“—here we are.” The path widened and Revenant let go of Despereaux as they turned to face him. They held out their hand, head tilting and eyes creasing with a saccharine smile. “Dance with me?”
Despereaux blinked, his brain shorting out for a few moments at the request. “I—You—You can’t be serious.”
“I always am with you,” Revenant said with aching sincerity.
Despereaux couldn’t contain his scoff, but the sound only seemed to make their smile bigger.
“Just because I may not tell you the full truth doesn’t mean I’m not serious about anything I say.”
“Aren’t you contradicting yourself?” Despereaux shot back.
“Will you dance with me or not?” Revenant replied, completely sidestepping Despereaux’s question.
Despereaux looked at their outstretched hand. A little voice in the back of his head was continually reminding him that they were a villain, and as a hero (even in training as he was) he shouldn’t even be entertaining any overtures of friendship from them, much less the flirting they were often prone to. But Revenant was magnetic, a mystery that Despereaux was itching to solve, and maybe some naïve part of him was hoping he could eventually change their mind and convince them to at least quit being a villain.
With a sigh, he slid his hand into Revenant’s. Or maybe he was just weak for enigmas with pretty eyes when they weren’t actively being a menace to society. Didn’t mean he was going to let them take whatever they wanted without a fight.
Revenant made a pleased little noise as they drew Despereaux close and wrapped their free arm around his waist. “Thank you little mouse,” they purred, pressing their mask to the side of his head in the semblance of a kiss.
Despereaux gave a token grumble, even as he tangled his fingers in the fabric of Revenant’s suit. Revenant just laughed and pulled Despereaux with them as they began to sway in time with the music.
(Izzy's hero name is Despereaux, and as for who's playing Revenant here.... you'll see ;) )
“It’s already that time of year again, huh.”
Despereaux startled at the unexpected voice and whirled around, only to find the street behind him empty.
A laugh echoed off the walls, and a figure jumped off a nearby rooftop to land in front of him. They wore what appeared to be a typical combat hero suit with reinforcements around the joints and high-impact areas, but unlike every hero Despereaux had met so far, they wore a hood that covered their hair, and instead of the typical domino mask, they wore one that covered the lower half of their face, leaving only the skin around their dark eyes visible.
“Then again, with how often new heroes are being recruited, I should really stop being surprised when you all start showing up.”
Despereaux couldn’t help but skitter a few steps back, though he immediately regretted it and tried to cover it up with bravado. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The stranger’s eyes crinkled in what Despereaux thought was a smile. “Easy now,” they said. “The name’s Revenant. And you are?”
“Despereaux,” Despereaux answered, still wary. “I’ve never heard of you before.”
“Are you saying you know every super in the city already, rookie?” Revenant asked.
Despereaux reluctantly conceded their point. “So what are you doing out here?” he asked. “I thought…”
“That getting thrown in the deep end of patrolling was par for the course?” Revenant finished. “Technically, yeah, but I don’t like seeing rookies wandering around with no clue on what to do if they actually run into trouble.”
“We’re told to call for backup,” Despereaux said, confused why they didn’t seem to know that.
Revenant laughed, a bitter note to their voice. “And I’ve seen that go badly too many times.”
“Oh.” Despereaux had to admit that, despite the fact that they had startled him so badly, the idea of having a more experienced hero around made him feel slightly better about the whole being thrown in the deep end thing.
“So, Despereaux,” Revenant said. “Do you mind having some company?”
Despereaux shook his head. “No—I mean, yes—I mean—ugh.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Sure, I don’t mind. I appreciate the offer. Thanks.”
Revenant laughed. “Oh you’re a polite little thing,” they said.
“I—” Despereaux felt his cheeks heat up with a blush.
“It’s a good thing, trust me,” Revenant said. “Especially considering how many of those older heroes seem to have forgotten everything they were taught about manners. They need some good role models.”
Despereaux huffed and looked away. “I don’t—I’m not… oh, whatever.” He shook his head and changed the subject. “So, are you a solo hero then? It doesn’t sound like you’re very fond of…” He gestured vaguely in the direction of headquarters.
Revenant took the change easily. “I have a few friends I work with, but yeah for the most part I’m solo. I’m not touching that team bullshit with a ten-foot pole.”
“What have you got against them?” Despereaux asked, unable to stop his natural curiosity.
“Most of the time, they’re just concentrated versions of all of the bad parts of [super corp],” Revenant explained. “And before you ask, we’d be here all night if I went into my grievances with [super corp], so let’s just use the “throwing rookies in deep their first night” as our main point there.”
Despereaux frowned. “But you’re a hero,” he said. “Why’d you become a hero if you hate them so much?”
Revenant’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Because being a hero is a very different occupation than being an employee of [super corp],” they said. “And I like helping people.”
Despereaux couldn’t argue with that. After all, that was the main reason why he wanted to become a hero, even though everybody, from his parents to his brother to his new classmates, thought he would never make it.
Revenant’s head suddenly snapped around, their expression going serious.
“Revenant?” Despereaux started, but before he could finish the question, Revenant shoved him to the ground and darted away.
Despereaux yelped as he fell, but did his best to recover as quick as possible. The ground where Revenant had been standing two seconds ago was torn up by some unseen force, and Despereaux realized with a start that by pushing him, they had saved him from getting hit as well.
He turned to see who it was attacking them, but stopped short as he recognized the figure.
“Raven?”
“Despereaux,” Raven said, not taking her eyes off of Revenant. “Come here.”
“I—But—”
“Come here,” she repeated.
Despereaux scrambled to his feet, looking between Raven and Revenant. “I…”
“I suppose the charade is up,” Revenant sighed, and Despereaux felt his blood run cold. “Think about what we talked about, okay little hero?”
“What?” Despereaux hissed, his mind still reeling from the sudden turnabout.
Raven attacked again, shadows condensing into a solid beam aimed right at Revenant.
Revenant dodged, rolled, and when they came up, their arm was surrounded in an off-white light. “There’s being an employee, like her,” they said, “and then there’s being a hero. Figure out which one you wanna be, ‘kay?”
Raven readied another attack, but she was interrupted by a sudden yowling sound. Something barreled around the corner and lunged for Raven, drawing her attention away from Revenant.
Revenant stood and shot Despereaux a little salute and a wink. “Au revoir, little hero,” they said, then they spun around and took off running.
Raven shot at the creature attacking her, breaking it into little pieces. As Despereaux watched though, they shook, then began reforming, glowing slightly with the same light Revenant had been covered with.
As the creature reformed, Despereaux realized with a start that the little pieces were bones, quickly followed by a flash of understanding.
Necromancy. Revenant was a necromancer.
The creature, now reformed, yowled at Raven again, but didn’t attack. Instead, it turned and bounded off after its master, looking uncomfortably like a cat chasing its prey as it tried to run.
In the silence that followed, Raven turned to look at Despereaux, disappointment radiating from her.
“I didn’t know they were a villain!” he blurted out.
Raven closed the space between them and grabbed his right hand, twisting it so the back was facing the sky. “And this is one of the reasons why we have our hero markers,” she said.
Despereaux stared down at the tattoo on the back of his hand marking him as a student, feeling shame and embarrassment flooding through him. He’d completely forgotten to check. He hadn’t even looked.
Raven let go of his hand. “Come on,” she said. “You’re done for the night.”
Part of Despereaux wanted to argue, but he knew Raven wouldn’t be swayed at all, and a bigger part of him just wanted to go back to his apartment and hide under his blankets until this whole night was forgotten.
(Also known as Wait for Me, or if we're being specific and pedantic, Wait for Me (Reprise))
The station was loud and busy, train whistles echoing over the constant chatter and bustle of people focused only on making it to their destination. Despite how busy it was though, the corner that Harmony and Jayy were in was quiet enough, a point of calm among all the chaos.
Jayy kept their eyes on the passersby, fiddling with the ring on their pinkie finger and pointedly ignoring how every passing second seemed to grow colder, how Harmony’s movements grew sharper every time she tapped at her phone. They weren’t going to be the first one to break the silence, no matter how uncomfortable it got. Harmony would break long before then.
True to their prediction, Harmony finally huffed and put her phone away. “Alright,” she said. “Out with it. Why are you here?”
Jayy blinked slowly as they turned to look at her. “Do you not want company?” they asked.
Harmony gave them a humorless smile. “Don’t bullshit me. I half expected you to be long gone by the time I even woke up.”
Jayy wasn’t sure what they hated more: the assumptions about them, or the fact that she was right and they had been considering that.
“So?” Harmony asked, her green eyes burning into Jayy with such intensity that they briefly wondered if she was trying to make them spontaneously combust.
Jayy broke the eye contact, turning away to survey the crowd once again. “I wanted to see you off,” they said.
“Why?”
“I wanted to,” Jayy repeated, their voice lowering. “Don’t make me regret that decision.”
Harmony huffed, and an uneasy silence fell over their corner again. Overhead, a voice blared over the speakers, announcing the arrival of Harmony’s train in a few minutes.
Harmony broke the silence again. “Jayy.”
“Mm?” Jayy still refused to look at her, but they tilted their head in acknowledgement.
“I’m done.”
“With?”
“This.”
That made Jayy turn, frowning at Harmony. She met their gaze with her usual determination and something like resignation.
“I’m done with this,” she repeated. “With us. It’s making us both miserable, and I think by now we both know neither of us will change.”
Jayy looked away, unable to meet her eye for a second longer. “So what, you’re saying you just wanna be friends?” they asked.
Harmony laughed, a bitter note in her voice. “Do you think you could handle being friends?”
Jayy didn’t answer. Harmony’s former engagement ring burned on their pinkie, a bittersweet reminder of when they had been young and the world seemed so much simpler, back before they’d been burned one too many times by people who claimed to love them, Harmony included.
“Exactly,” Harmony said, interpreting their silence. “I love you Jayy, but I can’t deal with you pushing me away anymore.”
“Oh, like you’ve always been the saint here,” Jayy shot back before they could stop themself.
“Do not try and start a fight now,” Harmony snapped.
Jayy closed their jaw with an audible click.
“Do you understand where I’m coming from?” Harmony asked, her voice softening.
Jayy nodded sharply.
“Do you have anything you want to say?”
“Not much of a point arguing,” Jayy muttered.
“I’m willing to hear you out.”
Jayy let out a long breath, twisting the ring around their pinkie. “You’re the only one who knows me,” they finally admitted.
“I thought you hated that.”
A strangled noise escaped their throat at how accurately she called them out. “I—” They stopped, took a breath, and tried again. “Both. Yes and no. It’s complicated.”
Harmony just watched them, with too much knowledge and understanding and fuck Jayy hated every second of this. At least now it made sense why that little voice in the back of their head had been whispering to stay this morning.
Jayy took a deep, steadying breath, then another. They had too many walls built up to easily circumnavigate them, much less break them down, even if Harmony had managed to slip between many of them over the centuries against their will.
“I’m—I… don’t want to lose you forever,” they finally managed to admit.
“Even though you’re miserable half the time we’re together?” Harmony asked.
Jayy nodded sharply. “Good outweighs the bad,” they said. “Having… constants makes up for it.”
Harmony let out a long sigh. “I don’t particularly want to lose you forever either,” she said.
“Then why?”
“Because I thought you were just as tired of this stupid cycle we keep falling into!” Harmony snapped.
Jayy gritted their teeth, but waved their hand in a so-so gesture. “Varies.”
Harmony let out a breath. “Jayy.”
Jayy stayed silent, unsure what she was looking for them to say, unsure of what they wanted to say anyways.
Another announcement echoed through the station. Next to them, Jayy felt Harmony straighten up, the way she always did when she was determined.
“You have three minutes before my train gets here,” she said, “to decide if you want to give this—give us one last try.”
“What?” Jayy asked. “Why—why is this my decision?”
“Because you’re the one still on the fence about going our separate ways forever,” Harmony said.
“Why are you giving me the option if you’ve already made up your mind to leave?” Jayy shot back.
“Because I’m willing to give this one last honest shot if you are,” Harmony retorted. “I’m willing to try and change, if you are too.”
That got Jayy to shut their mouth, staring unseeingly out over the crowd.
“You have until my train leaves,” Harmony said softly.
Jayy nodded in acknowledgement and let the silence settle.
Three or so minutes later, the speakers announced that Harmony’s train had arrived, and Jayy was still no closer to making a decision.
“Well,” Harmony said, her voice deceptively light as she straightened up. “I suppose this is it then.”
She looked at Jayy, and they found they couldn’t quite meet her eye.
Harmony didn’t seem surprised though. She just stepped close and reached up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to their cheek. “Goodbye Jayy,” she murmured. “I hope you’ll find somebody who can make you happy.”
Jayy turned their head and caught her lips in a kiss. “Bye,” they muttered, unable to raise their voice more even if they wanted to. “Stay safe.”
“I always try,” Harmony laughed as she stepped back with a smile that looked suspiciously fake. She hesitated for a moment longer, then turned. “Bye.” With that, she headed off across the platform, heading for her train.
Jayy didn’t move, watching her weave through the crowd as they twisted her ring around their finger. The indecision still plagued them, but the closer she got to that train, the more they felt that this was just too final.
Harmony stepped up into the train carriage, and something in Jayy crumbled.
“Hey!”
Harmony paused in the doorway, turning to face them.
Jayy made their way through the crowd and across the platform in what felt like three steps, her ring sliding from their pinkie to rest safely hidden in their palm. “Give me your hand.”
“Huh? What?”
“Harp.” Jayy stressed her nickname.
Harmony gave them her hand without any further argument, though she still looked puzzled by this turn of events. Jayy ignored her questioning looks as they took her ring and slid it onto her ring finger. They also tried to ignore how their hands trembled as they did so.
The train whistle blew, and with a hiss of steam and groan of metal the train slowly began to move.
Jayy let go of Harmony’s hand and stepped clear of the train. They winked at Harmony and gave her a two-fingered salute, then turned on their heel and walked off before they could stop and really question what the fuck they’d just done.
It took a few moments for Harmony to realize what they’d done and the significance of it, but they knew when she did because their own ring finger burned in response. Harmony’s voice rose over the train’s cacophony. “I’ll be waiting!”
Jayy raised a hand in acknowledgement and didn’t look back.
“Hey Gray,” Owl said, crossing his arms over Gray’s toolbox as he leaned on it. “Have you seen Heron around?”
Gray looked up, brushing a stray curl out of her eyes. “No, I’ve been in here all afternoon,” she answered, gesturing vaguely at her workshop. “And we both know he never comes in here unless he absolutely has to.”
“Hm.” Owl hummed, a thoughtful look on his face. “It’s been too quiet around here,” he said. “And I haven’t seen Catnip either.”
“Doesn’t she usually hang out with Quinn and Oliver?” Gray asked.
“Yes, but last I saw Quinn was hanging off of Jay and Oliver was following Molly around like a lost puppy again.”
Gray tsked and made a face. Oliver was far too fond of Molly considering she never willingly gave him the time of day and often went too far and hurt him when training. But that was a problem Gray had been trying and failing to resolve for far too long now, and at the current moment there was a more pressing issue.
“So both Heron and Catnip are unaccounted for,” she confirmed.
Owl nodded.
“Duck Incident 2.0 incoming?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Owl agreed.
Before Gray could say anything in response, the door to her workshop flew open, revealing the very two that they had just been discussing. “Come on!” Catnip said as the door opened, looking back and up at Heron so she didn’t immediately notice her audience. “Oliver’s with Molly so I bet Gray’s gonna be supervising them, so we can sneak through her workshop and—”
She dragged Heron over the threshold and finally turned around, and stopped dead when she saw Owl and Gray looking back at her.
“Oh. Oops.”
The door swung shut behind them, closing with a thud. Gray just barely managed to hold back a laugh, but it was a close thing, and it must’ve shown on her face if the dirty look Heron was shooting her was anything to go by. Heron’s hair had been pulled into two tiny pigtails, there was glitter sprinkled through his hair and smeared across most of the skin Gray could see, and it looked like Catnip had gotten her hands on some makeup and been given free reign of Heron’s face.
“We weren’t doing anything!” Catnip chirped, like anybody in the room would believe her at this point.
“Having fun there Heron?” Owl asked lightly, looking for all the world unbothered by this turn of events, except Gray knew him far too well by this point and could tell he was fighting hard to keep from laughing his ass off.
Heron narrowed his eyes and pointed first at Owl, then at Gray. “You,” he said, continuing to alternate who he pointed to, “are never gonna be able to prove this happened. Nobody will believe you.”
Some of Owl’s laughter escaped then, in the form of his lips curving into a small smirk. “Hey Gray,” he said lightly. “Didn’t you install cameras in here after the last time the kids broke in and tried to dismantle an automaton?”
Heron’s eyes widened. “No way,” he spluttered. “Absolutely not—You didn’t!”
Gray couldn’t contain her own grin as she leaned against her worktable. “Oh yes I did,” she said sweetly. “Aimed right at the door too. And of course I have access to all the footage.”
Heron lunged for her. Catnip yelped and darted for the door, though her laughter echoed in her wake. Gray just stood and took a step back, letting Heron effectively clothesline himself over the table.
“Gray,” he whined, sprawling pathetically.
Gray burst out laughing, and Owl chuckled and leaned over to ruffle Heron’s hair. “Blackmail sure is sweet.”
☕ Yes, we are late for FebruarOC. No, we are not catching up all at once today or tomorrow. Yes, this is probably going to be a wild ride for everyone. No, we are not going to apologize.
Anyways, get ready for a month of Observers, bc that's what we decided to focus on! Let us know if you love any of them, we might do more of the same at some point, maybe. (≧∇≦)ﾉ ☕
In which Atlas finds a misadventure.
There is something within the World.
Atlas does not know exactly what is, but the pull is strong enough for the Observer to give itself over to its curiosity. The World is a quieter one, more known simply due to the expansion of the Worldfarers than any one thing within the Lands themselves. But there is something within the World, the Existence more than enough to drag Atlas' focus away from the Knowledge of the World itself for favor of trying to find the Existence that is calling to it. The Observer wanders, soft leaps dragging it closer and closer to whatever it is that is bleeding into its blood and bones before it finds the source of curiosity.
Atlas leaps, its feet barely touching the ground before it is slammed into. The Observer allows the tackle, forcing limpness as someone throws themself on top of it. A Child of Magicks scrambles for a second, sitting right on its hips and holding its hands down as air is dragged through their lungs. They glare, Magicks bleeding in soft threat as Atlas stares down stormy eyes.
Earth comes to force Atlas into the ground, and the Observer does nothing but allow the child to do whatever it is they were aiming for. It sinks into the ground a little, soft cuffs of earth forming over wrists and ankles before the Child of Magicks seems to note its lack of resistance. Confusion blooms under the aggression, easily replaced with wary suspicion as the child hisses.
"Do not move."
Atlas complies with the soft demand, simply allowing the child to calm on top of it as it takes in the soft whispers of Knowledge sitting around it like dewdrops in the morning sunlight. It is easy to note that the child is not alone, even easier to note that instincts outweigh any intention brought forward in the moment. Atlas is aware that the Child of Magicks is far more scared than confident, some other factor keeping the child from flight. But that does not keep Atlas down, even against the soft pulse of pain that comes from Magicks not fully controlled.
The Child of Magicks is the Existence pulling on Atlas' focus, the curiosity burning through its veins from the hands still aiming to hold it down.
The Observer settles underneath the Child of Magicks, waiting their judgement before something catches both of their attention. Another child, this one far less vibrant, breathes into Existence, Atlas keeping itself from breaking eye contact with the Child of Magicks as the other child speaks before taking in the current situation.
"Benny, you gotta cal- what in the name of the Ancients are you doing!?"
Atlas can hear the scramble as the child comes closer, blinks as the other child drags the first off of it and away. The earth holding it crumbles with the removal and the Observer waits a second before it slowly sits up. The Child of Magicks moves to it, Atlas noting when the Child of Curiosity yanks their counterpart back and away from it. The Observer ignores both of the childs for a moment, sitting up and crossing its legs before giving them both a small tilt of its head.
The Child of Curiosity stands between them now, but their focus is bent on the other child. The Observer can tell their concern is more with keeping the other safe, than anything else. It smiles, relaxing again as it tries to give reassurance.
"I did not come to harm either of you. I will not move if you do not wish for me to."
The Child of Curiosity holds zero trust in the words, but the Observer can see the soft consideration from the Child of Magicks. They touch their counterpart, a soft whisper of a name coming before the Child of Curiosity frowns but backs down enough for the Child of Magicks to stand next to them instead of behind. There is a silent conversation shifting between them, looks and thoughts shared as the Observer waits. Something is decided; the Observer blinks as both of them focus back on it with more curiosity from both. It tilts its head, waits for whatever is on their minds. It comes uot immediately, the Child of Magicks taking a step closer as they gesture at the Observer.
"You don't seem like a Hunter."
The question is more than obvious, even if it is not asked. Atlas tilts its head to the other side, the debate barely sitting in its head before it decides. It locks eyes with the Child of Curiosity, keeps its voice calm as it gives them Knowledge.
the most humbling experience of being a writer is when you spend hours writing and think you wrote 10k words but it was actually more like 400. and then you do it again
Writers: are you more of an architect or a gardener?*
More architect
More gardener
Equal in both tendencies
Depends entirely on the specific piece I’m working on
See results / not a writer / bald
Voting ended onFeb 16, 2025
*In writing terms, an architect is someone who plots out, plans, and outlines things before drafting. A gardener is someone who takes an initial idea and then just writes, seeing how the idea grows without specific plans.
Some people use the terms “plotter” and “pantser” (as in, going by the seat of their pants) for these writing styles, but I prefer architect and gardener.
