Remember Me

A caster who is trying to hide their injury, but their familiar keeps trying to drag Medic over to look at them. ("That's a clever little critter you've got there." [*pained laugh*] "Traitor.")

An ill or injured spellcaster hiding out somewhere and sending their familiar to steal supplies from the local healer. The healer catches them and convinces the familiar to lead them or just follows them back to the hideout, only to find barely-conscious caster curled on the floor.

A familiar who takes things into their own hands, finding the nearest healer (a stranger) and trying to lead them back to their ill or injured master.

A familiar approaching someone who thinks the caster doesn't like or trust them. The caster waking up and seeing who's there and being annoyed and confused, only to have the mortifying realization that caretaker was the last person they thought of before falling unconscious, and thus the last thought/image the familiar received.

A caster and their familiar huddling together in the cold, the familiar trying to what little body heat they can (if any). The familiar fetching twigs and branches as the caster tries again and again to summon fire, their hands shaking too hard to make the motions.

A badly injured or hypothermic caster who's familiar is trying to keep them awake, keep them moving. Nipping at their skin or headbutting them in an effort to not let them rest. Trying to guide their master towards safety.

When they finally collapse, the familiar uncertain whether to stay and protect their master or go and try to find help.

The caster's familiar pecking/pawing at or otherwise trying to rouse their master, who is unresponsive.

The familiar trying to fend off anyone who gets close, until the party is able to convince them they don't mean their master harm.

The rest of the party is approached by their friend's familiar, with the caster nowhere in sight.

Frantic scratching/pecking/knocking at the door/window in the middle of the night. The party trying to cover their ears and go back to sleep until one of them finally gets up to scare off the critter only to see a familiar animal, eyes wide with terror. (Adds some fun guilt about what might have happened to the caster in the meantime.)

As a bonus, maybe they hear the caster's voice through the familiar's mouth. "Help..." Or maybe there's a hastily scribbled, heavily smudged bloodstained note tied to their leg.

The familiar being the only thing that is able to comfort the caster in their delirium, gently reaffirming that they're safe. (The familiar sending feelings of safe/home/sleep/rest/friends through their bond.)

Alternatively, the caster's distress causing the familiar to panic, or vice versa. (Feeling panic and fear through their bond, unable to understand why but just getting a feeling of DANGER/HURT/SCARED/WRONG.)

The familiar refusing to leave their master's side while they rest. Curling up on their chest or perching on the head of the bed. The caster half-waking to the comforting weight or familiar shadow and knowing everything will be fine before drifting back into sleep.

A joyful reunion when their master finally wakes up. The caster talking to their familiar and offering reassurances before they acknowledge the rest of the party. Otherwise, looking around frantically until they find the familiar.

Alternatively, what happens if their master dies? Is the familiar a magical creature that vanishes without the caster here to anchor them? Or is the party left to take care of an animal they can no longer communicate with.

A recently rescued caster stroking their familiar's fur/feathers/scales to stay grounded. This is real. You are not alone.

The familiar serving as an emotional support or even an aid. Bringing items (potions, medicine) for their master when they struggle to get up, guiding them via their telepathic connection. ("Turn left. Watch out for the stairs. The door is straight ahead but someone is blocking the way").

Familiars being able to sense the onset of seizures, worsening of magical diseases/curses, or other maladies before their master can.

tw for implied/referenced animal abuse and animal injury/death under the cut! (mostly implied threats. nothing is described in detail.)

^^fingers hit some buttons as I started typing and I rolled with it :) Thanks for the tag, @memento-morri-writes!! As usual, I interpreted the word line like a total idiot. Bon appetit!

A line about the sun:

Quintus closes his eyes. In the sunlight, everything behind his lids is buttery warm.

A line about tears/crying:

Perhaps because they are moving towards a clear goal, or because the breaking dawn casts a soothing light, Quintus speaks for the first time. “It’s not your fault.” [Miriam's] gaze latches on to his, and her large, dark eyes fill with tears. “Or Andromeda’s. Or Camille’s.” Quintus doesn’t know what to do with her tears, so he ignores them. “It’s not even Nikolaos’s fault.”

A line where someone learns a lesson:

“What do the others use?” “Honey, sometimes oil,” Quintus listed off, on one hand. “Quills to cover the tips. Tongs of some sort to grasp the arrowhead. Knives to carve away the skin around it.” Nikolaos turns away and retches. “Stop,” he says. “Stop. I’ll find you some quills then, shall I?”

A line that surprised you when you wrote it:

“Do you know most people have twelve ribs on each side?” [Quintus] blusters. “Yet, inexplicably, some don’t. I’ve come across bodies with less, and bodies with more.”

I was tagged by @writingamongther0ses! Thank you!

From Open Seas:

Thana was right. She didn’t know how to defend herself. She couldn’t fight. She wasn’t very strong, or fast, or have any type of training that would serve her in a battle. But she could help. She could do something. Something that wasn’t hiding and praying to gods who weren’t listening. Tess ducked under Thana’s arm and shot out the door of the surgery.

Tess is not suited for the hand-to-hand combat happening but she's not going to let that stop her.

Thanks for these, @willtheweaver and @writernopal! <3 Here are the last lines I wrote today...

"Take off your pants," Nikolaos says, just for fun. "I ought to kill you," Quintus replies.

James, first off, signs his letters with his full name, James H. Blakely or occasionally James Henry Blakely. Except! his letters to his mother (James) and his letters to Leo (James Henry). Every letter/book inscription (will become relevant shortly) he's ever written to Leo is farewelled as "yours,". speaking of book inscriptions! on the inside cover of a book Leo eventually loans to Ronald is this:

León, I saw this in the bookshop on 32nd street—you know the one—and it reminded me of what you said in October. I hope you like it. Yours, James H. Blakely, Christmas, 1942

At this point they have known each other for like 4 months. I love them ever so much.

Alex, by contrast, never signs anything except business letters with her full name.

[ID 1: Tags from @/akindofmagictoo. #!!!!!!!!!! #'yours' im so normal #others' writing #I eagerly await the chart ID 2: Tags from @/elizmanderson. #op i am awaiting this chart breathlessly #humanity #letters]

@akindofmagictoo @elizmanderson presenting! the chart!

Today I'm playing with PIANO -- thank you for the tag, @artdecosupernova-writing!!!

P. “Peachy,” Sutton fired back. “And you?”

I. “If you left now,” Jacob said, calculating, “You’d get home at close to four in the morning.”

A. “Aw,” Jacob said sadly, and pulled out a pair of chopsticks to help the poor thing on its journey to the afterlife. The afterlife, meaning the trashcan.

N. “Now I feel like a baby,” Sutton muttered. “Throwing a fit over this.”

O. “Oh, no,” Michael said. “I’ve just heard stories.”

thank you @willtheweaver <3 choosing violence this morning and posting this with no context :)

the raedoran cycle

Arthur hears the clang of steel and a surprised gasp, and then Jack is snatching him off the ground and they’re running, out the door and into the night. Jack pulls him through alleys and parts of the sewers and Arthur can barely process any of it because he’s pretty sure that Jack killed somebody and he can’t figure out how to handle that yet. He keeps his injured hand clutched to his chest and stumbles along numbly, trying to keep his mind focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

At some point he lifts his gaze and realizes that they’re at the inn, at the back door, and Jack is slamming his fist against it. It opens and Meja is standing there, brown hair falling loose to her waist, and Jack’s hold on Arthur tightens.

“Mama,” he sobs, and Meja pulls them inside. Reijka is just inside the door and gasps at the sight of them, firing off questions in Hassa. It takes a moment for Arthur to realize that Jack is answering her and his skin ripples with cold—of course Jack could always understand her. Another lie, another layer.

taglist: @k--havok @oh-no-another-idea @space-writes @lyssa-ink @savvyminnow @zmwrites @akindofmagictoo

I was tagged by the lovely @dragon-swords-prophecies to find the word fall, tired, lost and time. Thank you, Copper! These were very good words and there were far too many fun options to choose from. (Especially for Fall and Time.) It was hard to choose just one of each!

Fall (from "Rook's Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Day #2")

“Rook, you need to stay awake. Just a little bit longer, until a healer can have a look at you.” Sigmar’s voice was serious as he half-dragged, half-carried Rook down the hall of the Winters’ manor.  Rook groaned in response. He was exhausted, and every inch of his body ached. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall headlong into unconsciousness.

Tired (from "Liars Will Be Shot")

Rook’s eyes fluttered, then opened, blinking at the sunlight.  “Captain?” His voice was quiet and thick with sleep.  [Zara] quickly sank back into the chair. “Hi, Rook. I’m glad you’re awake. How do you feel?” “‘M tired.” As if to emphasize his point, the end of the word vanished into a yawn. He looked around the room, squinting slightly. “Where am I?”

Lost (from "Storm")

[Tyra] pictured Rook being tossed overboard, lost to the waves. That fucking idiot. She should have put her foot down. Being blown off course would be better than losing the captain. The crew idolized him. Besides, it would be a very anticlimactic end to the legend of Captain Rook, wouldn’t it?  She could see the text in bold print. “INFAMOUS PIRATE CAPTAIN DIES IN STORM, KILLED BY HIS OWN STUPIDITY.” Despite herself she chuckled slightly. 

Time (from "Reunion No. 2 (Burning Down)")

Hand trembling, Rook drew his rapier and pointed it in Sigmar’s direction. Sigmar stalked closer with the unhurried grace of a predator approaching a wounded animal. He tipped his blood-soaked blade in Rook’s direction. “I didn’t believe you were capable of hurting me.” Rook continued backing away. Hand and voice shaking, he replied, “The last time I pointed a blade at you, I did it because I was sure you would never hurt me.”

I was tagged by @the-chosen-half-of-one to post 10 songs by different artists. Thank you!!

Scheherazade don't leave me here, there must be some escape, I caught you spinning shadows, watched as you forswore your fate. The truest of all falsehoods and the oldest of all tales: a girl can weave a grave-shroud that will walk her out the grave.

Scheherazade you taught me well, sharp tongue and empty hands, how to lose a world each evening, how to twist a crimson strand, past jewel caves and warnings, and things that run in threes 'til the ceiling's painted brightly and my lungs still know to breathe.