Harbringer of Chaos

Nova l 24 l they/them l ace I occasional writer/artist and permanently exhausted cryptid | AO3: @LostCryptid | Twitter: @CryptidMusings | pfp by the lovely: @elisajgolden uvu

[niennandil-me-writes]

something new, something blue

cn: anxiety, abusive parents mention, cannibalism mention in an academic context, nsfw at the end

[my secret santa gift for @constantlytiredghost. November belongs to them.]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Wilhelmina sat bent over her studies, trying to take notes, trying to compare three different sources, trying to stay focused. She had always struggled with working while someone else was in the room, preferring the solitude and silence of her empty study. Not that she would have preferred to be alone right now. It had turned out she was even more distracted when the person with her was one she actually liked.

Last time Wilhelmina had looked behind her, which was about five minutes ago, November had been sitting on her bed, surrounded by the books she had brought from the library, most of them on funerary rites (“Wilhelmina, did you know about this clan of Yuan-Ti that eats their dead?” She had known about it, but still listened to November read her the passage and talk about similar accounts she had heard, wondering aloud whether the souls of the dead were watching over their cooks’ shoulder…).

Now she heard November stand up, walk around the room. She realized she’d been reading the same sentence for the tenth time, when she felt something graze her left horn. A bit puzzled, she looked up at November, or rather at her hat.

“Sorry,” the blue-clad cleric said. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“You aren’t – I mean – Don’t worry about it. I should just…”

“It’s just that you said you’d be ready in ten minutes, and that was half an hour ago.”

“Oh, right…” Wilhelmina bit her lip.

“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” November said gently. “But I’m getting hungry.” She tilted her head, winced, no doubt remembering their talk a few days back. “Or at least, I could do with a snack right now.”

“Uhm, sure, let’s go.” Wilhelmina stood up quickly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Let me just get my bag. I think the cafeteria has zucchini cream soup today. It’s my favorite, I’m sure you’ll love it as well! Is something wrong?”

November had stopped in her tracks suddenly, frowning. “Not really,” she said, hesitantly. “I just thought we might go eat somewhere else today?”

“Do you not like zucchini soup?” Wilhelmina asked, alarmed.

“No, it’s nice. Just… you already showed me the cafeteria when we cooked our chili there.” November smiled. “I thought maybe you want to show me some other place?”

Wilhelmina avoided her gaze, looking out the window instead. Despite studying in this city for 8 years and working here for another 2, she had never been to any of its restaurants, except for the rare occasions where someone explicitly invited her, and she hadn’t found an excuse in time. Even then, she remembered mainly how nervous she had been. Not the food, or the address or name of the establishment.

“You don’t think it’s still dangerous to go outside, do you?” November asked carefully. “I’m sure the whole thing has blown over.”

“I’m not worried about that. Anymore,” Wilhelmina added quickly. Then, finally, she had an idea: “There’s the food vendors! Uhm, there’s a place on campus with a bunch of food tents, I’ve heard. I’ve never been, but, you know, we could try it out…”

“Sounds great,” November beamed. “I love street food!”

Wilhelmina was glad it was around midday, so all she had to do was follow the groups of university students to find this place she had heard of and walked past sometimes, but never really visited. Too scary was the prospect of a colleague walking over while she ate her lunch, or a food vendor making small talk.

The tents were arranged in a semicircle around a cluster of wooden tables and benches, where students sat together chattering, discussing their studies, some with their notes scattered across the table next to their wooden plates. It wasn’t just students, though. Wilhelmina recognized some of her colleagues among them, and quickly turned away.

November, meanwhile, had been looking around the yard with big eyes and an even bigger smile. “I don’t even know what I should get, those all look so good! Do you have any recommendations, Wilhelmina?”

“Uhm, not really,” she murmured. “I’ve never eaten here.”

“Hmmm…” November looked around again. “Do you like curry?”

Wilhelmina nodded courtly, and November took her hand to guide her towards a red tent staffed by Tabaxi stirring in big pots and turning skewers and dumplings on a grill.

“Anything I can do for you, love?” one of the servers asked Wilhelmina.

She looked helplessly to November, whose gaze was fixed on the blackboard spelling out the different foods on display. Wilhelmina felt the shadows drape deeper over her face as the Tabaxi looked at her impatiently.

To her relief, November finally looked up: “I’ll have the vegan curry with samosas. And extra spicy, please.”

The Tabaxi nodded and then looked at Wilhelmina expectantly, who mumbled a “the same”, and then quickly fumbled for her money before November could pay or argue. They got their food quickly. Not being able to find an empty table, and despite Wilhelmina’s protests, November spread out her cloak on the grass, so they could sit there comfortably.

“Can I have some of your carrots?” November asked.

“Hm?” Wilhelmina was pushing around her food. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

November tilted her head and looked at her bow. “Didn’t you also order samosas?”

“Wh- Yes, I did, but…”

They both looked down at Wilhelmina’s very samosa-less bowl.

“They probably just forgot it,” November said. “Should I come with you to ask for them?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Wilhelmina said quickly.

“But you wanted samosas, right? And you paid for them? So you should get samosas.”

“Really, November, it’s okay.”

November quickly made a grab for Wilhelmina’s bowl and stood up to walk back to the food tent. Wilhelmina followed her, but then halted indecisively. In horror, he watched November tap the Tabaxi who had served them earlier on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, my friend ordered samosas with that?”

Wilhelmina wanted to call another “it’s fine” but could barely move her lips. Her entire body shrouded in shadows as the Tabaxi looked over to her with a furrowed brow. This was it. She would get yelled at. And she would yell back and maybe hurl a sliver of her psychic magic at the server and then run away and hide in the library, never to be seen again, never to see November agai–

“Sorry, love, I’ll take care of that right away.” The server took the bowl and went back inside the tent. November turned around and shot Wilhelmina a smile, soon rejoining her with the fixed order.

“Thanks,” Wilhelmina said meekly. “Uh, thanks for doing that for me.”

“No problem,” November beamed. “Just pay me back in carrots.”

The curry was delicious, the samosas even moreso. Spicy, but not too much to handle for Wilhelmina’s fire-resistant Tiefling body and November’s deadened nerves.

“Maybe we could go here more often,” Wilhelmina said hesitantly. “For as long as you’re staying, at least. This is much easier when I have you with me.” It wasn’t just the heat of the food that drove a blush to her cheeks.

November smiled. “It’s really nice here.” She had made herself comfortable in the grass, looking around. “What else have we planned for today?”

“Planned? What do you mean?”

“Well, you did say you’d show me around the city. And today seems a good day for that. Unless you are too busy?”

Wilhelmina had said that. Though she had mainly referred to the university, and had hoped she could put it off for a while.

“I… actually don’t know that many places here. I can show you around the university, though,” she suggested.

“That would be nice. But maybe, we could go some other place? I’ve already been around the university a bit.”

Wilhelmina contemplated what she could show November, while her partner sat patiently, cleaning out the last of her curry from the bowl.

“There’s a couple of parks,” Wilhelmina said hesitantly. “Oh! There’s the museum.” She lit up. “Numerous museums, actually. There’s the history museum, and the museum of arts, the museum of magic…” She looked at November, who was listening, smiling, most important of all: nodding.

“Sounds fun.”

“Erm, is there something specific you’d be interested in?” Wilhelmina asked.

“The museum of magic sounds interesting. But I’d let you choose.”

After returning their plates, Wilhelmina led the way through the streets of the city. November kept skipping ahead or falling behind to take in the sights, or even just a shop window. The second time she returned from such an exploit, November took Wilhelmina’s hand in hers, and the Tiefling was too flustered to launch into her lecture about the historical figure depicted by the statue November had just returned from.

It was strange. Wilhelmina had lived in this city for almost a decade – since she had started her studies. And yet right now, with November’s hand in hers, and her tail hesitantly laid around her partner’s hip, the ways seemed to stretch so much longer. The colors were brighter, the shop fronts more enticing and the attractions more exciting. There was a bittersweetness to it. Wilhelmina caught herself evading November’s eyes and quickening her step just a bit.

Walking into the well-known shadow of the old museum felt like a relief. She waived both November and herself through with her university sigil.

“Don’t we have to pay?” November asked.

“The university – the Librarian, that is – donated some artifacts to the museums in the past,” Wilhelmina explained. “University people and their companions have free entry.”

November looked around the room they had entered, which held ancient wands and staffs on the walls and in locked glass cabinets.

“Is any of the stuff here from you? I mean, did you bring something here back from an adventure? Like the Kryschos in the library?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Wilhelmina said. “I did help with the identification of a magical cloak, however.”

“Well, then lead the way.”

Wilhelmina needed a moment to understand before November took her hand again. She nodded and together they walked into a room displaying magical clothing. The cloak of interest was hanging spread-out at the wall among many others of a similar kind. All of them were frayed at the edges and had a few holes, which had made it hard to identify what magic exactly they held, especially since they couldn’t be used anymore without running danger of destroying them or oneself. With the artefact in question, it had taken weeks to even say for sure whether it was magic at all, or just had residue from a spell stuck to it in a very peculiar way, until they had figured out that the magic ran through one single strand of one single thread of the elaborate embroidery. After that discovery, the delicate process of analyzing the fibers one by one without damaging the fabric had been Wilhelmina’s job, which had taken the better part of two weeks.

“So what does it do?” November asked as Wilhelmina ended her description of the work.

“We, uh, still don’t really know,” Wilhelmina said a bit meekly. “The thread has way too many tears in it to say for certain. It’s almost like a text with words or whole paragraphs missing. We assume it’s a form of protective cloak. The magic is mostly Abjuration, with trace amounts of Evocation. There might be fire involved, though whether it protected from it or summoned fire in some way we cannot say for sure. The motives of the embroidery led us to believe it might be a part of a set of 5, or perhaps 6, though as far as we could find out, no others like it have ever been found. Further studies … what?”

November was grinning from ear to ear. Now she tilted her head. “What ‘what’?”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’re really good at this,” November said. “Explaining things I mean. You’re like a walking book.”

There was that familiar sting in her chest. A feeling that made her want to lash out, want to hide away in a dark room, a shadow within shadows. It was an instinct she still couldn’t fully let go off. Sharp words at the tip of her tongue. Words she held back. But when did speak, it still came out a bit harsher than she had wanted it to: “I must be boring you. We should just look at other stuff.”

November’s smile didn’t disappear, but turned softer. “But I like hearing you explain things.”

Wilhelmina didn’t look up. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Why else would I be here?”

Yes, why were they here? Right back in her comfort space, surrounded by silence and musty air and relics, like they had never left the library at all, when November had wanted to see the city’s sights. Wilhelmina bit back those words as well, and instead looked around the room. “What do you want to hear about next?”

That was how they moved through the museum, room by room, November pointing out artifacts, and Wilhelmina recounting what she could remember of their history, meaning and the magic they held. They looked at a variety of magic foci, enchanted cloaks (“this one looks a bit like Tony’s, don’t you think?”), studied spell scrolls and books locked behind special glass that prevented them from being used to cast, and spell-storing stones and jewels. They spent about half an hour looking at different magic hats as well as normal hats that used to belong to powerful magic users, including a fedora that allegedly used to belong to Melf himself. November stared at that one for quite a while.

“Who do you think has better style?” she finally asked.

“You, undoubtedly,” Wilhelmina said.

“Hm? Oh, I meant between that witch hat over there and Melf’s,” November clarified. “But thanks, much appreciated.”

“Oh, I just meant…,” Wilhelmina stuttered.

“I still think I need some more trinkets and thingamajigs,” November said, considering the brim of the witch hat bending under the weight of various pieces of decoration.

It was only after a while of walking and talking her way through the museum that Wilhelmina noticed they were being followed around by four people. She halted in her explanation of a specific magic broomstick. Helplessly, she looked over at November, who laughed: “I think you got an audience.”

“Am I talking too loudly?” Wilhelmina whispered.

One of the other visitors, an Elf holding a notebook, lifted their hand: “Sorry, does it cost extra to join the tour?”

Wilhelmina felt the shadows drape over her face. “I’m not – I mean…” She trailed off as November took her hand.

“Should I tell them to leave us some space?” she asked in a low voice.

Wilhelmina bit her lip. “No. I mean, if we’re here anyway…” She cleared her throat, then said louder: “I’m not a guide, but you can stay if you want.”

Wilhelmina had become quite good at holding presentations over the years at university, but she had never been comfortable during them. This was similar, now that she was aware of the eyes directed at her. At first, at least. But whenever she felt November close to her, touching her hand for just a moment or brushing shoulders, it didn’t put her on edge like any other proximity would have in that situation. She focused in on her and found the speaking just as easy as before. She wrapped her tail around November’s leg, not caring that everyone saw. She had given up on that at the ball. There were a lot of things she cared about less now, she realized.

By the time they left the museum, it was already getting dark, the sun having disappeared behind the skyline a while ago. They walked through the shadowed streets, Wilhelmina choosing a longer way back to the university.

“We can go window shopping until the stores close if you like,” Wilhelmina said. “And then pick up some food to take to my room.”

“What’s that commotion over there?” November asked.

Wilhelmina followed her gaze. It had indeed gotten louder, voices and distant music and joyful screams echoing through the streets. In that direction, the house walls and cobblestones were lit in various colors that replaced the waning light of the sun.

The closer they got, the more they could recognize: First, small stands on either side of the street, offering snacks and sweets. The farther away, the more people bustled about, until the street led to the entrance of a park, which seemed to be the center of the commotion. Between the trees, a wide array of tents, booths and big stalls had been erected, lit by the colorful light of lanterns hanging from the branches, both mundane and magical in nature.

“Win your prize at the ranger’s hut!” an Elf holding a toy-sized bow and arrow yelled from within a booth. “Just hit the target three times!”

“The best waffles in the city!” barked a Halfling from a stand laden with sweets.

“Get your fortune told at Madame Mertha’s!” a Gnome called over from a tent.

Wilhelmina and November had stopped at the park entrance.

“Looks like a fair,” Wilhelmina said. “I heard one comes to town sometimes.”

“Well, then we’re in luck,” November said. “I haven’t been to one in ages!”

Even though she was tired and usually avoided large crowds, Wilhelmina joined November without complaint as she walked inside the park to have a look around. As if she knew the place, November casually guided their way to a big hut that was shrouded in an intense sugary sweet smell.

“You want some candyfloss, Wilhelmina?”

Wilhelmina jumped as November’s question drew the attention of a Tortle who was selling the sweets. She mumbled something, and kept looking around the stand, noticing gingerbread hearts in the back, different kinds of candy sticks and chocolates…

November tapped her shoulder and she turned to see two giant blue-and-white clouds under the big hat of her partner. Wilhelmina smiled shyly as she took her candyfloss. As she turned the stick to tear off a small wisp with pointed fingers, she realized that the sugary threads were glowing from within.

“Nice, isn’t it?” November said, her eyes glowing almost as bright as the candy. “The vendor casts a Light cantrip on the inner part. It looks almost like a will-o’-wisp, don’t you think?” She smirked. “So it fits you.”

Wilhelmina stopped with the sugar halfway to her mouth, looking down herself, then at the glowing confection, then at November. “It also fits your colors,” she said sheepishly. “And, um, thanks.” She finally put the sugar in her mouth. It melted in a sticking sweet intense flavor, with just a hint of blueberry and vanilla.

November furrowed her brow. “Have you never had candyfloss before, Wilhelmina?”

“Um, not that often. Why?”

November grinned, and Wilhelmina realized that her eyes had widened as she took the bite, and that her tail stood up rather than subtly hanging down as usual. She quickly wrapped it around November’s leg, and then felt even more embarrassed.

November took her hand and smiled at her calmly. “I saw some interesting stalls over there, wanna see?”

Wilhelmina let November guide her on. “I, uh, never was allowed much candy by my parents,” she explained. “And I’ve only ever been to a funfair once. My sister, Ramona, snuck us out for it. We were grounded for a week after that. But she found a way to pass letters under my door, and some candy she got there for me.”

“At least you have one family member that allows fun,” November said. “We had a small fair coming by the town once a year. My family would even do their own stand sometimes. Basically a haunted house.” November smiled in reminiscence.

Wilhelmina turned the candyfloss around in contemplation. “Were any of the ghosts real?”

“That’s a family and company secret.”

They had arrived at a bigger stall with a particularly large crowd gathered around it. At closer inspection, it seemed to be selling trinkets and toys that had weak magical properties, which explained the amount of children pulling at their parents' sleeves and begging for what had caught their attention. But older customers were examining the wares as well.

There were music boxes with dancing figurines inside, endlessly spinning tops, hairbands that promised to increase the effects of studying (Wilhelmina looked at that for a moment longer), chalk that wrote in rainbow colors, sending stones (of particular interest to a group of teenagers), brushes that dyed your hair, and much more.

One particular object caught both Wilhelmina’s and November’s attention at almost the same time, as they called out to the other with fingers pointed.

“You know who that would be perfect for?” November said in excitement, looking at the metal orb the size of her head. The metal had some holes and etchings, such that Wilhelmina for a second had wondered if it was the making of magic or artifice, but at least the silver light streaming from within seemed to be magical. The corner it stood in wasn’t lit, except for the little dots the object produced, projecting star clusters and constellations at the wooden wall, exactly like the real ones in the sky above.

“Tony would love that,” Wilhelmina agreed.

The vendor, a Gnome standing on the elevated floor of the stall, had noticed their attention. “You can change the hemisphere and plane it shows,” they explained, turning a lever on the orb to switch to a sky Wilhelmina had never seen before.

“We have to get that for them,” Wilhelmina and November said at once.

“Costs a small fortune, though,” November added, glancing at the label.

Wilhelmina, who had already reached for her wallet, hesitated. “I mean, I can…”

“We will split it,” November said. “And then we have to find a way to send that to Tony’s ship.”

After making their purchase and carefully storing it in November’s bag, they walked on, Wilhelmina keeping her tail around November as if to steady herself. They arrived at an area where there seemed to be a lot of competitions and prizes to win.

“Those are always rigged,” Wilhelmina mumbled, an echo of her parents’ opinion, looking at a game where participants had to throw very small rings around very big cylinders.

“Wanna find out how rigged?” November asked.

“What?”

But November was already pulling her towards one of the games, and Wilhelmina didn’t really have a choice but to follow or get lost in the crowd. November looked around a bit at the games. “Which should we try?”

“Um…”

“Want to try out the Dwarf Strike?” a gruff voice called over to them, and they both turned to look at a Dwarf woman standing next to a wooden construction three times her size, with markings up its length labelled from “Halfling Baby” and “One-Armed Kobold” over “Strongest Elf” and “Weakest Bugbear” up to “Orc”, “Dwarf” and “Dwarf-Orc”.

“Ya just have to hit the base with this here hammer and if ya get to one of t’ upper ones, ya get a prize.”

“Bit stereotyping, don’t you think?” November remarked, pointing at the labels.

The Dwarf flinched. “Get that a lot. It’s an older model and I’m too lazy to think o’ something better. Now, does one of ya beauties want to try ya hands at it.” She pointed at a shelf laden with prizes behind her, mostly brightly colored plushies and little bundles filled with candy. “Maybe win one of them stuffies for yer lady friend?”

November looked at Wilhelmina, who shook her head.

“I’ll try it,” November said and walked up to the wooden tower to pay for one attempt. Wilhelmina stood to the side and watched her pick up the large hammer. She weighed it in her hands and tried to pull it up before stopping. “Oh, almost forgot, Wilhelmina, can you take my hat for me?”

She quickly walked over and put the hat on Wilhelmina’s head. As she leaned closer to pull it over her horns, she winked at her and whispered, “Try to distract her a bit for me, okay?” She was back at the tower before Wilhelmina could say anything. It seemed to take her some effort to lift the hammer into the air and over her shoulders. She winked at Wilhelmina again.

Wilhelmina bit her lips. She stepped a bit closer to the Dwarf. “Is, um… does this fair come here often?”

“’bout twice a year. Big cities are always happy to have us.”

Wilhelmina took a deep breath. Made a little gesture with her hand as if to draw attention. Then she started talking, weaving enthralling magic into her words, talking without interruption to capture and cage the Dwarf’s attention. She talked about this being her first time here, about Ramona taking her to the fair back home many years back, the pressure her parents put her under, and she was about to start talking about her growing discomfort at this place when there was a loud BANG as November struck the hammer to the base with full force, followed by a louder GONG sound as the puck was thrown upwards to hit the third highest mark. For the fraction of a second Wilhelmina saw the outline of a silvery shovel around the hammer, then it was gone.

“Did I do it right?” November asked innocently.

The Dwarf scratched her head, but apparently, she hadn’t seen what Wilhelmina had spotted, and so she just grinned and said. “Congrats, lass. Didn’t think you’d have that much power in ya.” She walked back to the row of prices, picking out a big blue stuffed owl with a large pink heart on its chest. “That one right for ya?” she asked and handed the prize not to November but rather to Wilhelmina, who nodded a bit befuddled. “Looks just like you,” the Dwarf winked. “You sweethearts have anything else planned?”

“Not really,” November said quickly. She took Wilhelmina’s hand and turned away, but the Dwarf was still talking.

“There’s a ferris wheel over yonder. My brother is manning it. Can see the whole city from the top, so it’s nice if you haven’t been to the city for long. Might be something for you lovebird- whoa!”

All the lights had gone out all of a sudden, the place cast in shadow. Yells and murmurs and complaints came from the crowd around them, getting more confused as it became clear that it wasn’t just the lights, but that a bubble of total darkness had taken over a small part of the park.

Having let go of November’s hand and drawn in her tail, Wilhelmina ignored her companion’s calls and left. She stepped outside the darkness, past the confused crowd. When she left the park, she consciously recalled the spell that she had unconsciously cast. The walk back to university was like a haze, her vision blurry from tears, hands cramped into fists, face draped in shadow, staring down anyone who dared come close to her.

Finally, she stepped inside her room, closed and locked the door behind her, and threw herself on her bed. It took only a few seconds for the anger bubbling up in her to simmer into a shallow guilt. She shut it out. It didn’t matter. She was more comfortable in her room anyway.

She jumped when there was a knock at her door.

She stayed silent. Didn’t move. Face pressed into her pillow.

Another knock. “Wilhelmina?” November’s voice, soft and concerned.

“Go away!” Wilhelmina called. “Don’t let me ruin the fun you were having!”

It was silent for a while. Wilhelmina sat up, only now noticing the hat that had fallen on the floor. She had forgotten she had been wearing it while fleeing. She picked it up and walked to the door, unlocking and opening it by an inch. She half expected November to be gone, but she still stood there. Her brow was furrowed with what might have been worry.

“Sorry for stealing your hat,” Wilhelmina said meekly. She tried to pass the hat through the gap and immediately close the door again, but November was already holding it in place.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Don’t you want to go to the ferris wheel?” Wilhelmina didn’t look at her.

“Not if it’s not with you.”

Wilhelmina chewed her lip, anger bubbling up inside her again. “Fine.” She let go off the door and sat down on her bed again. November followed her and let herself fall down beside her.

“You forgot your plush,” she said, sitting the owl on the mattress next to her.

Wilhelmina didn’t look at it or November. “I got you licorice.”

“What?”

“At the candy stall. I got you licorice.” Wilhelmina pointed at her bag on the floor, holding a paper package of licorice sticks. “I think you’ll like it. It has an intense flavor.”

“Ah,” November said.

A silence fell over the room that was neither save nor comfortable.

“Soooo,” November said after a while. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong, or do you just want to sit there and pout?” And when she didn’t get an answer: “I wouldn’t have a problem with that. You have a very cute pout.”

“It’s not – “ She stopped herself and pressed her lips together.

“Yes, it is. Your ears turn downwards when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” Wilhelmina pouted.

“Yes, you are. And it’s cute.” She reached out to Wilhelmina’s face, who flinched away, staring her down.

She could feel the shadows darken, was about to send a mind sliver in November’s direction to get the thoughts that were muddling her mind like ink blotches on the page of a book to leave, and November along with them. If she didn’t get it, she could feel it, and maybe then she’d understand it, and maybe then she would leave her alone, leave and never come back, and she’d be alone and in peace again.

But then something turned softer about November’s expression, and she turned and pulled her legs up to her chest, so she was facing Wilhelmina. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanna know what’s wrong.”

There was something about her that let the walls Wilhelmina had built around herself crumble. About her and Tony both. But where Tony was a wrecking ball, November seemed like a magical brew that dissolved the adhesive sticking the bricks together.

Wilhelmina looked away, draping her face in shadows in shame rather than anger this time. After everything, her first instinct was still to lash out. Hurt people before they could hurt her. Keep them at a distance so their words could never sting. The truth was that she liked those walls she had built, and that she felt exposed without them.

“Sorry,” Wilhelmina said meekly. “I was being an idiot.”

“Nobody said anything about that,” November said. “I just want to know what happened.” Wilhelmina felt November’s cold fingers gently brush her own hand, and this time, she didn’t pull away.

“It’s stupid,” Wilhelmina said again. “You will laugh at me, or get mad, and both would be justified.”

“Now you’re being unfair towards yourself,” November said.

Wilhelmina hesitated, as if trying to find the right words, as if they hadn’t been echoing through her mind all the way home. “It’s just… You wanted me to show you the city, but I had nothing to show. I don’t even know the city I’ve lived in for years.”

“You showed me the museum,” November interjected.

“Yes, and as soon as we left, you wanted to see something else, something more exciting,” Wilhelmina said, turning to her. “And I get it, I have nothing to offer. I’m… boring. You are amazing! You always tell me about your adventures, of guiding lost souls into the afterlife, of beating people up with a spiritual shovel, or forcing them to dig their own graves, of escaping death itself! You talked to that … experiment? creature? – when I didn’t even know what to do.

“And Tony as well! They’re traveling the world by ship. And what do I do? I sit here in my study and read old books! I’m a glorified scribe! I spent all my life trying to please my parents, or – or some Archfey I sold my soul to, without mattering to any of them at all, and now I’m 28 and I feel like I haven’t lived a single day of my life. I can’t even show you anything exciting in this city that’s worth doing. I must be so boring to you.”

November had listened with her head tilted. Now she reached out both hands to take Wilhelmina’s face between them, preventing her from looking away again. “You’re pretty amazing as well.”

Wilhelmina flushed. “You’re just saying that.”

November didn’t relent. “Wilhelmina, when I first met you, you killed a guy with your own negative thoughts. I’ve seen the stuff you brought to the Librarian, and the stuff you analyzed for the museum. That’s not boring, that’s great. Amazing even.”

Wilhelmina wanted to contradict her again, but she couldn’t even open her mouth before November had leaned forward and, still holding her head in place, pressed her lips on it. A silent squeal escaped Wilhelmina, and in response November’s lips curled upwards. Then, Wilhelmina relaxed, closing her eyes to sink into the kiss. November’s fingers brushed over her cheeks. Wilhelmina gently laid her tail on November’s back, then wrapped it around her midst as the kiss became something more intense. Her hands burrowed into November’s hair. On the edge of her mind, she noticed that November’s hat had fallen off, and she didn’t seem to have noticed at all. November’s skin and lips and mouth were cold, but never would she have called that cold lifeless. If anything, it was calming against the heat of Wilhelmina’s cheeks and embarrassment and –

“Wilhelmina,” November whispered as she pulled away. “There is something else you can show me that I haven’t tried yet.”

“What?” Wilhelmina, who, unlike November, needed to breathe, panted.

November reached down to the stacks of books that were piled up beside the bed, pulling up a thin booklet, which Wilhelmina recognized in horror.

“That’s not mine!” she said quickly. “I mean, I have never seen that before! I mean – “

November laughed. She started flipping through the pages, which were filled with drawings of featureless bodies of different races tied up in various compromising positions, with instructions written in between the sketches. “I just thought it might be fun to try out, and that maybe you have some more experience with that than with fairs?”

Wilhelmina called the shadows intentionally this time to hide her flushed cheeks and caught expression. She bit her lip. “Well… I mean – I – We could try something out. If you want. I assume.” She looked up at November and managed a smile. “Do you, uhm, does any specific variant strike your interest?”

November kept flipping through the pages. “The ones where you hang from the ceiling look wild.”

“Those… probably aren’t the best idea for a complete beginner,” Wilhelmina cautioned.

“Yeah, thought so,” November said. “I might be dead, but I don’t know how I feel about playing vampire right now. Maybe when Tony comes over, we can try that with them, I bet they’d have fun.” She chuckled and turned to a page at the beginning.

“These are pretty easy,” Wilhelmina said. “To tie and to experience, I mean.”

“This one seems good,” November said, pointing to one.

Wilhelmina considered the sketches and accompanying instructions. She nodded.

“Do you have rope here or should I get some from my pack?”

Wilhelmina, who had already bent down to retrieve the equipment from under her bed, stopped dead in her tracks. “Um. No. I don’t.”

November chuckled. She slipped her shirt over her head.

“Wait, what are you – “

“All the people in the pictures are nude,” November said innocently. “I thought it was the point?”

“I don’t – I mean – you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable…” She couldn’t keep her eyes from trailing back to November’s now exposed chest.

“Wilhelmina.” November stood up and put a hand to Wilhelmina’s chin again. Somehow, despite it meaning a closer proximity to breasts, it calmed her down. “How about I just tell you when I’m not comfortable with something? And the same goes for you.”

Wilhelmina nodded again. “Sit down and give me your leg.”

Following the instructions meticulously, Wilhelmina set to work. Starting with a knot at the ankle, she first tied November’s thigh to her shin. She then passed the black rope around her hip and chest, before continuing on the other leg. Although she had been nervous at first, not being used yet to being this … intimate with November, Wilhelmina found the process calming in a way. She soon forgot she had the naked body of her girlfriend in front of her, all her attention being taken up by the knots and ties and careful technique. Once or twice, she had to work backwards to untangle a mistake, apologizing for the holdup. But November remained patient, encouraging.

It took some time, but finally, it was done. Wilhelmina stepped away to consider the work. She discovered a few more mistakes she had made, but now the thrilling sight demanded back the attention Wilhelmina had put somewhere else for a while.

November’s arms were tied behind her back, legs bound calve to thigh and affixed to the arm in a way that forced her to keep them parted. In addition, there were some aesthetic ties around her upper body, the tightness of the rope pushing out her cute small breasts.

November was grinning. “Well, how do I look?”

There were a thousand words jumbling together in Wilhelmina’s mind: Beautiful. Cute. Sexy. Pretty. Hot. I want you. Adorable. So bad. Stunning. Right now.

What came out was an incoherent mumbling mess.

November chuckled again. “Well, watching you tie me up was fun, but I gotta admit, I don’t really see the appeal that much? I can’t even move.”

“That is… kind of the point,” Wilhelmina murmured.

“Yeah, I know, I just don’t really see how that would help in getting it on.”

“Well.” Wilhelmina had caught herself a bit again. She tried to sound mischievous: “Now I can do with you whatever I want?”

November’s smile turned into a smirk. “Like what?”

“Like this.” Wilhelmina knelt down on the bed in front of November and kissed her. November kissed back, tenderly sucking on her lips. She struggled, trying to touch Wilhelmina, but the binds kept her in her helpless position. Wilhelmina put one hand to the rope at her chest and pulled on it, gently for now, to get her closer. Her lips wandered down November’s neck, and the other couldn’t follow. She kissed along her collarbone. Her fingers brushed the scar over November’s heart.

Wilhelmina brought her lips to November’s ear, whispered: “Are you still comfortable?”

November nodded. “Like I said, I’ll tell you if I’m not.” She sounded almost out of breath.

Wilhelmina took the words as a full invitation. She put one hand on November’s right breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her tail wrapped around November, under the ropes, interweaving with them and holding her even closer. One hand wandered farther down. November gasped in anticipation.

Wilhelmina kissed the cold skin over November’s heart as she pushed two fingers inside her. There was so much more she wanted to show her.

[noxachi]

asked my friends to lend me their blorbos and these are the results!

Tau belongs to @constantlytiredghost

Hiram belongs to @ghoulcaro

Teo belongs to @elanorniennandil-me

And Marlowe belongs to @arocalyptic

[theradioghost]

in the words of the great Elizabethan wordsmith William Shakespeare, in Hamlet Act IV Scene V, “When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.” or, in the words of the great Twitter wordsmith @Horse_ebooks,

[ritavonbees]

this is 1947 Cincinnati Enquirer erasure

[marisatomay]

please do not forget your smash mouth

[kokiri-leaf]

[cryoverkiltmilk]

[ahopefulsun]

Wishing all of you a very merry "I suddenly have the motivation and time to write a minimum 10k fic"... please

[yaushie]

as much as i love the trope of a character falling fast and hard for someone, i also love the subtle descent where they don’t really think about it; where that person is just kind of there until one day they realize that person is so ingrained in their lives and they cannot do without them. where there is no conscious effort on either ends to become romantically involved but somehow the thought of them being with someone else is disconcerting. where “i enjoy being with you” unwittingly turns into “i want to be with you”

[pimby]

brought a kiss to the knife fight

[infectiouspiss]

i love him that’s why i need to see him tortured to within an inch of his life covered in his own blood and tears

[tendermiasma]

kind hand 🕊

[doyouknowwhatimeme]

[reh-hateshumans]

me flirting: my, what deadly claws you have…they’d be perfect for gripping my hips

[sunshine-sadist]

Mutuals I would...mutuals I'd......who I wanna......who....giv kith

[memewhore]

[niennandil-me-writes]

long rest among the wicked

CN: gore, (consensual) violence, self-harm, (mentioned) disregard of safewords

Another kiss request (prompt: kiss accompanying an injury), from @constantlytiredghost. Vincent is their OC, Keppler belongs to @ghoulcaro, Marlowe belongs to @arocalyptic who was also our amazing DM for this oneshot. This is basically a "what if?" for our long rest scene.

"You're my kind of guy cause I like your style and you sound as horrible as me, And I don't mind if you're unkind you're reminding me of me."

Kaiser Chiefs - My Kind of Guy

Teo hadn’t paid much attention to the smaller doctor so far. Or the other one. Or anyone of his unlikely companions, for that matter. There were simply more important matters at hand. Now he wished he could direct his attention literally anywhere else but Vincent.

Vincent didn’t even seem like he had noticed what he was doing, had simply rolled up his sleeves and started dragging his nails through his skin, like it was just a normal activity one did while bored during watchkeeping. Not that Teo was in the position to judge here. It just made things a lot more difficult for him. For a moment, he wanted to grip his weapon, then remembered that he didn’t have his weapon. He laid his hands on his knees, looking away, looking anywhere but the doctor’s blood-covered arms.

From the corner of his eye, Teo could see Vincent shift. “Sorry”, the doctor said, stopping the movement of his hands.

Teo cleared his throat, still looking away. “Is there a reason you’re doing this?”

“It… helps.”

Teo looked over at Vincent, brow furrowed.

“I don’t know what happened to you all in the diving bell, but for me, it just suddenly made everything disappear”, Vincent explained further. “It’s kinda nice being able to feel again.”

Teo couldn’t help but laugh dryly at that. “I can relate to that.” He paused. He knew he shouldn’t do it, knew that it was a bad idea. He knew where it would lead. If he wanted to have any chance in the nightmarish labyrinth that was the realm of Aberrant, he needed the group. He couldn’t risk any of them dying or distrusting him, not until he had Dex back. But he still couldn’t keep himself from asking: “Do you need help with that?”

Vincent’s eyes wandered to the longsword lying on the floor next to Teo, brow raised. “I’d, er, prefer to keep all my limbs. But thanks for offering.”

There was a moment of silence in the room.

“Unless you were thinking of using something else instead of the sword?”, Vincent said.

“I don’t have anything else.” Teo paused, thinking. “I can try holding back.” He knew that wouldn’t work. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he started. But he needed this. Especially after what had happened in the diving bell, he needed to distract himself, stop thinking about what he would have done, what he could have done (what he had wanted to do). The fight had been nice, but he needed an opponent who could feel pain on some level, someone who bled. He looked at Vincent, for the first time noticed the two beauty marks under his eyes, the upturned nose. A cute face, and if he could see it distorted in pain, that was sure to drive the other face he had seen in the water away. So he held back his remark about not being very good with self-restraint. Vincent didn’t need to know that, did he?

Vincent was mulling this over, looking down at his bloodstained, scar-covered arms. “Well, I have scalpels”, Vincent said. “Should be easier to hold back with that.”

“I don’t have any experience with those”, Teo said. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

Vincent considered this for a while, looking at Teo, like he was trying to figure out how smart it was to trust him (and maybe also how much he cared about the smartness of his choice). Then he sighed. “Sure. Let’s do this. Not like my own scratches are helping much.”

Teo couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Do you want to do it here, or should we get some more privacy?”

“Well, technically we are still holding watch”, Vincent said. “And I think I would prefer not being completely alone with you, at this point in time. Nothing personal.”

“You have magic, right? Shouldn’t be a problem to stop me if I go too far”, Teo said, still grinning. If the doctor started struggling, that would only make it more fun.

“I’d also prefer saving my spells for when I actually need them. I trust you won’t do anything too stupid while the others are nearby and could wake up from me yelling for them.”

“Fine. But if they wake up to see this, you tell them that all of this is consensual.”

“Sure”, Vincent said, taking off his leather armour and unbuttoning his shirt. “As long as you keep it consensual. Are you familiar with safewords?”

Teo nodded. “We – I just used “stop” so far, nothing complicated.” Not that he had ever been good at sticking to them.

“Should be enough.” He opened the medical kit sitting next to him, taking out a little leather case and from that a scalpel, which he held out to Teo. He took it, flipped it around in his hand to get a feel for it. It wasn’t much different from a small knife. He had used knifes to kill before, but only rarely.

“Any hard limits?”, Teo asked while testing the blade with his thumb. It was a bit sharper than he had anticipated, cutting the skin and drawing blood immediately. He smiled.

“No dismemberment. And keep it to my arms, maybe the legs if you have to.”

“What about chest and stomach?”, he asked, turning the bloodied weapon towards Vincent again.

“That could end quite – aaah!”

Teo had already swiped at Vincent’s chest while he had spoken, a thin cut trailing over his skin.

“Sorry”, Teo said, not meaning it. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Vincent’s blood mixing with his own on the blade.

“I guess that was alright”, Vincent said. “Not deep enough to be lethal.”

“See, I can hold back”, Teo grinned. Where would be the fun in just going for the lethal injuries right away?

“And I felt that, at least”, Vincent continued. “Just – keep it away from my face and hands, keep everything attached and me alive, and we should be fine.”

“You do have a pretty face”, Teo said, gripping into Vincent’s dark locks with his free hand. “I understand why you’d want to keep that.” He yanked the doctor’s head backwards, slamming him to the ground, then got on top of him to fix him in place.

Vincent sucked in the air as Teo plunged the scalpel into his right arm, then dragged it through the flesh. There was something exciting about using a weapon this small, the way he could control the trail of the wounds, how he could just go all in without having to worry about immediately hacking off a body part. It still didn’t compare to Dex. Teo missed him even more in that moment. He really didn’t want to kill Vincent now, not like this, he thought while running his fingers through the cut, not without Dex. But there might not be much of a choice here.

Teo licked his lips, then inflicted another cut on Vincent’s skin, feeling the flesh beneath part for the silver blade. He let go of Vincent’s hair to be able to grip into the wounds and cut new ones at the same time.

“Are you getting off on this?”, Vincent asked.

Teo looked at his face, even prettier now that it was filled with pain, and maybe something else. “Not exactly. Are you?”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

Teo laughed. “What you said before, about not feeling much… I have a similar problem.” He cut into Vincent’s chest again, between the ribs, getting dangerously close to the lungs, but making himself stop just short of them. “This… hurting people… it makes me feel things.”

“Like what?”

Judging by the way his voice was hitching, Vincent’s numbness was being driven away at about the same rate as Teo’s was, which he welcomed. He pulled the scalpel out, then stabbed it into Vincent’s shoulder, relishing the silent scream. “Alive, mostly.”

Vincent gritted his teeth, nodded. “I get that.” A lopsided smirk spread on his lips. “And you know what? You hurting me really does bring some sensations back. You’re pretty cold, you know?” His arm, mutilated as it was, shot up, grabbing for Teo’s left wrist. Teo looked down at him in confusion.

Vincent’s smirk widened. “No pulse”, he observed.

Teo yanked his hand free and gripped Vincent’s hair again, pulling his head back, and held the scalpel to his throat. “I could kill you right now.”

“You could”, Vincent mused. “Would be a pretty boring and fast death, though, and I think that’s not what you want. Plus, I do have a death ward on me, and I have some ways to deal with people like you.”

“You’re right”, Teo said. “It would be a boring death.”

Still holding on to Vincent’s hair, he moved a hand down to his arms again, stroking through the wounds. He could feel a lot more now, could feel both the cuts and Vincent’s older scars. The doctor’s skin was cold, though not as cold as his own. He could feel the sticky wet blood under his fingers. The pulsing of Vincent’s heartbeat, and, for just a moment, he imagined his own heart beating along with it, though of course he knew that couldn’t be true.

He looked down at Vincent’s face, so young-looking behind the sneering sarcasm and the tiredness. Of course, he fixated on the nose, so like someone else’s. The beauty marks, one too many, and in the wrong place, but still…

Teo leaned farther down, and, as he plunged the blade into Vincent’s arm again, he kissed him on the lips.

A sound of surprise came from Vincent, muffled by Teo’s lips. The doctor stared at him, perplexed but not necessarily objecting. Teo half-closed his eyes, kissing the man under him who he could so easily pretend was Dexter. The man started kissing back. Teo kept moving his fingers through the torn flesh, as the kiss turned more hungry, more violent. Teo imagined the half-elf under him looking up at him out of doe eyes that held fear and pain, all for him.  For just a moment, even though he had lost him, Teo could be with Dexter.

The bliss didn’t last long. Maybe it was the blood smeared all over him, painting the skin a dark red, maybe it was the teeth digging into the scar on Teo’s lips, bringing back the pain from before, but Dexter kept slipping from Teo’s mind, turning into another man, another person he had loved. No matter how much he tried to push the thought away, he kept going back to kissing Marlowe as well as Dexter.

He couldn’t do this. He broke the kiss.

“Do you kiss all your victims?”, Vincent asked, the smirk curling on his lips.

Teo needed a moment to regain the focus to answer. “Not all of them”, he said vaguely. “You do look very cute covered in bloo-“

Something hit Teo’s head full force from the side, pushing him off Vincent. His ears rang and vision went blurry for a second, as he was sent sprawling on the floor, the scalpel slipping from his grasp. He tried to get up immediately, but there was a pressure on his chest, keeping him down. Teo blinked until his vision returned to him. Standing over him, one foot in a black suit shoe (which was probably what had hit Teo’s head before) placed on his chest, was the other doctor, Keppler.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you stupid oaf?” He wasn’t exactly yelling, but there was a certain lack of composure to him. “I know you were fantasizing about this, but I never believed you would follow up on it!”

Teo just stared up at him, grinning. He could feel blood streaming from his nose. “He asked for this.”

Keppler moved his foot from Teo’s chest to his throat. He didn’t place his full weight on there yet, but the threat was there. Teo wondered how long it would take the doctor to realize he didn’t need to breathe.

“I don’t care”, Keppler said, leaning down a little. “If you ever lay your dirty hands on him again, our deal is over. I will make sure you will never get Dexter back. I'll make sure you live the rest of your sorry life without ever seeing him again.” He put more pressure on his foot, making it impossible for Teo to answer. He glared down at him. Teo recognized something in those eyes. Something he knew from himself.

“What exactly do you think you are doing here?”

The weight on Teo’s throat lifted for a second as Keppler turned his head in surprise. Teo tried to sit up, seeing Vincent’s blood-stained hand holding the scalpel up to Keppler’s neck. When he felt Teo move, Keppler immediately put his foot down on him again, but his attention was on Vincent now.

“I am simply teaching Herr Dagger some manners.” Keppler’s voice was almost a hiss in Teo’s direction.

“No need for that”, Vincent asserted calmly. “As he already pointed out, I consented to this.”

“I understand that. But I still think, Dr van Stein, that no matter how desperate you are, you really shouldn’t settle for someone like that, someone whose work is that messy and ugly and simply insufficient for you”, Keppler explained, confirming Teo’s suspicions from earlier.

“I think I can make those decisions for myself, Dr Keppler.”

For a moment it was silent in the room, safe for the occasional blood drop falling from Vincent’s arms.

“Do you want to take your foot of his throat?”, Vincent asked, looking down on Teo. “I don’t know how much air he has left.”

“Will you behave?”, Keppler asked, increasing the pressure for a moment.

Teo didn’t respond and didn’t stop grinning.

Keppler sighed heavily, then lifted his foot. He held out a hand to help Teo up. He ignored him and pushed himself off the floor with one hand, rubbing his broken nose (relishing the pain).

Keppler kept his attention on Teo for a few more seconds, then half-turned to Vincent. “Can I help you with your wounds, Dr van Stein?”

“I can take care of that myself, thank you”, Vincent said, putting the scalpel away. “I’d rather not have your hands on me right now.”

Keppler pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Of course.” Then he turned to Teo again. “Do you need help with your nose, Herr Dagger?”

Teo shook his head once, and Keppler seemed content with that, directing his attention back to Vincent. He kept rubbing his nose as the grin on his face spread wider. As soon as he got Dex back he would continue his work on Vincent. He would tear him limb from limb. He would rip him to little bloody pieces. And he would make sure that Keppler got to watch.

[niennandil-me-writes]

this day started with our crucifixion and went on with a zombie fight and a death game and the worst part is still that i'm sleeping in the same room as you

CN: violence, gore, implied cannibalism, self harm, not negotiated kissing of a sleeping person

[kiss request "a kiss that won't be remembered" for the Mörk Borg versions of Minas and Teo. I'll just tag the whole group here, since I love them all of them are relevant in this writing: Minas belongs to @ghoulcaro who also requested this, Israh belongs to @constantlytiredghost, Qin belongs to @noxachi, the amazing DM and enabler of this Oneshot was @arocalyptic]

“I will never give up on you I see the real you Even if you don't, I do, I do And it seems like I've known you forever I'll keep you sane for one more night Need you to know that it's alright I see the real you Even if you don't, I do”

Three Days Grace - The Real You

It was silent now, both outside and inside the church they had chosen as their place to spend the night. Everyone else was asleep already – as much as they could be, at least.

Minas couldn’t sleep. Restless as he was, he tried not to make any noise, not to disturb the other’s sleep at least. Or rather, not disturb Israh’s sleep (was it sleeping? Did angels sleep or was it more of a trance the tall graceful creature was submerged in while leaning on Minas?). He didn’t care that much for the other half of the group. At least he kept telling himself that. Alright, he cared about Qin, even though they had taken part in the mess of today.

Minas did not care about Teo, though. For all he cared, he could never enjoy a full night’s sleep again, that was the least he deserved. If they weren’t all already in hell, Minas would be glad to send him there himself. After everything he had done today, all the troubles he had caused, the danger he had put himself in-

Minas put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. Why, after all this time, after his own death, had he still not learned? He moved his hands from his eyes to his hair, ran his fingers and paw back through his human hair and over the bristles of wolf fur. He lifted his head and looked over to the church benches, where Teo and Qin were sleeping. Both of them were covered in mud and dirt, and Minas couldn’t help but notice that the amount of blood on their clothes had increased after they had gone out to look for whatever had caused the noises outside. Minas didn’t want to know what had happened. He really, really didn’t want to know that.

Yet despite the blood and the way both of them clutched their weapons, they did seem almost serene in their sleep… Teo had fallen asleep sitting up against the bench, but now he had toppled a bit to the side, leaning against Qin, who had one leg wrapped around him. Minas winced as he noticed the way in which Teo was holding Dex, only one hand holding the Zweihänder’s hilt, the other laid around blade, pressing the flat side against his cheek, almost – no, exactly like he was cuddling the weapon. Droplets of blood were spilling from little cuts on his hand and on his face.

For a moment, Minas considered adjusting Teo’s grip on Dex, so he wouldn’t hurt himself too bad, wouldn’t lose yet another finger, or poke his eye out or even kill himself. But that would probably wake him up. And he seemed comfortable. He was probably enjoying the pain. And what did Minas care? It was not as if he wanted Teo to be safe. In fact, everyone would be better off if he was dead. It was not as if he cared about Teo’s well-being, right? Right?

Minas looked up at Israh, and, carefully, lifted it off himself. It was easy enough, the angelic creature seeming light as a feather in Minas’ big mutated arms. He set it down gently on the ground, leaving his coat as a pillow for them. Minas watched it for a few more moments, making sure he hadn’t woken or discomforted it.

Then he looked over at Qin and Teo again, who were also still sound asleep. He stepped closer to the two, crouching down next to Teo, but still keeping a safe distance, so Teo couldn’t just jump at him and slit his throat if he woke up.

Minas sighed. He was tired, and confused, and he didn’t know what he was doing, what he was doing in this valley, or what he was doing here on the floor, kneeling next to the man who had murdered him.

“I’m…” He only realized what he was saying as the words left his mouth, and he knew how pathetic it sounded, how stupid it all was, and still it was the only thing he could say. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have been of better help to you.” He avoided looking at Teo’s face, staring at the blade in his hands instead, and that almost made him laugh. Now it looked like he was talking to Dex as well. Maybe he was…

He had never met Dexter. Not alive, at least. When Minas had paid Teo and him a visit that day, Dexter had already been almost dead, his body covered in gashes and stab wounds from the blade he himself had forged, torn to pieces by the man who once loved him, and… Minas’ stomach churned at the memory. He really didn’t want to think about it, but the image was burned into his brain, like the curse he had gotten that day was burned into his body. Teo turning around to him, his sword and hands and mouth covered in the blood of his husband, the deranged but loving grin on his lips turning almost into a sneer at the interruption, as he walked towards Minas and plunged the blade into his chest.

The worst part was that deep down, Minas felt he had deserved that. Not because he had interrupted them, like Teo had complained. But if he had been able to help Teo, like he had promised… Or if, at least, he hadn’t told him that he was doing well enough to return home. Maybe Dexter would still be alive then. He’d deluded himself. Maybe because he had been so desperate to help someone. Maybe because he didn’t want to accept that Teo was too far gone. Maybe…

He looked at Teo now, almost peaceful in his sleep, seeking closeness both with Dex and Qin. He seemed calm. Minas wondered if he was dreaming, if he could still dream, if whatever sickness it was that attacked his brain left him at least that. Maybe he was dreaming of what he had lost. Maybe he was dreaming of murder.

“I know you’re still in there”, Minas muttered, more to himself than to the sleeping man. “I know there’s still something…” He didn’t let himself finish the sentence. Stupid. It was exactly this kind of wishful thinking that had gotten him into this mess. 

He hadn’t even known the man Teo once was. When he had met him, he was already struggling with his condition, to the point where he couldn’t even tell Minas what exactly had happened to him. Still, from the long talks they had had together, about things that had once mattered to Teo and now couldn’t bring him any more joy, he almost felt like he knew him. Loving husband and father who spent his free time tending their garden. Whose favourite game was chess, even though he rarely won. Who loved the stews his husband cooked, especially when he put a bit of mint in it.

And now this was all that was left of him, just a shell of the man he once was, a monster who only took joy from other people’s pain, a sadistic murderer, a shambling zombie who sometimes behaved more like a rabid dog than a human.

Minas pitied him. And wasn’t that messed up? Pitying the man who had murdered him in cold blood and then told him with a grin on his face that he was proud of it as well?

But the truth was, Minas couldn’t bring himself to hate him. Just like there was still a tiny piece of the old Teo left (at least that was what Minas kept telling himself), there was still a part of Minas that cared about Teo. That loved Teo. That was in love with Teo.

Minas chuckled, and then the chuckle turned into a sob, and he was crying again, and he couldn’t tell whether he was crying for himself or for Teo or for Dexter or for all of them, for everyone involved in this goddamn mess.

It had always been selfish. It had always been stupid. Falling in love with a married man he had promised to help through his struggles. Still being in love with him now, after everything he had done. If he was being honest, he hadn’t just sent Teo home out of a conviction that he was well enough to return to his family. A part of him had feared that he would do something stupid, something selfish, if he spent more time with Teo alone. And that had doomed Dexter.

Now Dexter was dead, gone forever, whatever Teo might tell himself in his delusions. And Minas was about to do something incredibly stupid and selfish.

Leaning forward, he reached for Teo, brushing sweaty blood-matted hair out of his face. He was aware of the Zweihänder in Teo’s hands, both the fact that if Teo woke up, he would have the perfect opportunity to kill Minas a second time like he had promised (and Minas doubted that he would be able to resist that opportunity, no matter what Dex told him), but also how easy it would be for Minas to guide the weapon in Teo’s hands to pierce his throat. Nobody would ever be the wiser. Just an accident, something that was bound to happen someday, as the missing fingers and self-inflicted scars attested. That little part of the old Teo, which Minas kept telling himself still existed somewhere inside the monster, might even be grateful for that. Then again, Teo might just wake up as soon as Minas laid a hand to the weapon, especially after everything he had done to retrieve it that day.

Still, Minas’ clawed hand halted for a moment in the air, hesitant and, he noticed with some shame, trembling. Then he laid it to Teo’s face, carefully, so as not to wake him. Minas cupped Teo’s face in his hands, his human hand and his wolf’s claw, and then he leaned over him and kissed him on the hair.

“I hate you”, he sobbed. “You bastard, I hate you so much. I wish I could save you.”

And then, because he was selfish and stupid, almost as selfish and stupid as the man he was kissing, he turned his head and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It tasted of blood and bad breath and death and tears, but that last one probably came from Minas.

Teo started moving in his sleep and Minas drew away at once. Teo was mumbling something, and Minas needed a second to comprehend the word.

“Dexter…”

Minas let out a dry laugh between sobs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, you fucking asshole.” He got up. It was probably better this way, if Teo never knew. “Just… just keep dreaming about murdering him or me or whatever sick things you dream of. Cut yourself open with that sword and bleed to death, for all I care.”

He went back to the angel’s sleeping place, laying down beside it and tried to catch some sleep before the sunless morning came.

[mias-back-from-the-dead]

reblog to stick a fruit sticker on a mutuals’ shirt where they can’t see

[ironychan]

I submit to you that the most iconic feature of any animal is either unlikely or impossible to fossilize.

If all we had of wolves were their bones we would never guess that they howl.

If all we had of elephants were fossils with no living related species, we might infer some kind of proboscis but we'd never come up with those ears.

If all we had of chickens were bones, we wouldn't know about their combs and wattles, or that roosters crow.

We wouldn't know that lions have manes, or that zebras have stripes, or that peacocks have trains, that howler monkeys yell, that cats purr, that deer shed the velvet from their antlers, that caterpillars become butterflies, that spiders make webs, that chickadees say their name, that Canada geese are assholes, that orangutans are ginger, that dolphins echolocate, or that squid even existed.

My point here is that we don't know anything about dinosaurs. If we saw one we would not recognize it. As my evidence I submit the above, along with the fact that it took us two centuries to realize they'd been all around us the whole time.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

XKCD

[heyyitsjayy]

So that people don’t need to go through the notes:

- We have fossils of spider webs

- Paleontologists have reconstructed the larynx (voice box) of extinct animals and we have a pretty good idea what vocalizations they were capable of

- Fossilized pigments have been found in a variety of taxa

- Soft tissues fossilize more often than you think; we have skin impressions for like 90% of Tyrannosaurus rex’s full body (shoulder blades and neck are the only bits missing)

[wemblingfool]

If pop culture is your only window into extinct animals, then you do not remotely understand how much we know.

We know the entire lifecycle of a tyrannosaurus. We know from the sheer amount of remains we have, from every stange.

We know roughly how they sounded (as the person above me said).

We know they had remarkable vision.

We know they had the second. strongest sense of smell in history.

We know from their bones that they grew to a certain size and stayed there until about 14 or so, then absolutely ballooned up to their adult size in about three or four years.

We know they likely lived in family groups, because we have bones with certainly fatal injuries for a solitary animal (broken legs and such) that are completely healed.

We know exactly how other dinosaurs look, down to colors and patterns, because bones are not the only information that is preserved.

The Sinosauropteryx is one such dinosaur. Because pigmentation molecules were preserved in the feather impressions, we know it's colors, and it's tail rings (which one would argue would be it's "iconic feature."

(Art credit Julio Lacerda)

Microraptor is another! We know from feather impressions that it had four wings. We know from pigmentation that it was an iredecent black, like a raven.

(Art credit Vitor Silva)

This is not limited to dinosaurs, or feathers. We've found pigmentation in scales and skin. We've completely reconstructed two extinct penguins, colors and all. We've figured out the colors of some non-avian and non-feathered dinosaurs. We can identify evidence of feathers existing on animals without feather impressions.

We have feathered dinosaurs preserved in amber.

We can defer likely behavioral patterns through adaptations we see in bones, and from the environments they were found in. We can see how certain movements evolved through musculature attachments (yes, how muscles attached is often preserved). We know avian flight likely evolved by "accident" by the way early raptorforms moved their arms to strike at their prey.

We also understand behavior in extant animals and can easily speculate likely behaviors in extinct animals. (A predator running for it's life is not going to exhibit hunting behaviors)

We learn and understand way more from "rocks" than paleontologists are given credit for. And if you watch a movie like Jurassic World, which has no interest in portraying anything with any sort of accuracy, and your take away is "We can't possibly know anything about these animals," then you don't understand science.

As for shrinkwrapped reconstructions, we understand how muscles attach, and how fat works. Artists who lean into shrinkwrapping are are not generally concerned with scientific accuracy, or biology. They're only concerned with Awesombro.

If true paleoartists tried to reconstruct a hippo, while they naturally would not get every bit correct, it would certainly look like a real animal, and not that alien monster that tumblr is so fond of using as "proof" that paleontologists don't know anything (an art piece that itself was extreme and satirical, and a condemnation of the particular subset of paleoartists I mentioned earlier)

Every time paleoblr tries to show you how extinct animals actually looked, all we get is a chorus of "thanks i hate it" and "stop ruining dinosaurs!"

[cameoamalthea]

Sinosauropteryx lived in the same place as Red Pandas live now

Millions of years apart - same color scheme

[theprideful-deactivated20251201]

here, have some bi-ace solidarity

[1stsana]

[theprideful-deactivated20251201]

my favorite part about this is everyone tagging their ace/bi mutuals like "look!! it's us! it's you!!" target audience

[theprideful-deactivated20251201]

stop being funnier than me on my own post

[localcryptid420]

@noxachi !!!!