#` ━ ✦ ⁞ (verse. MAIN.) // WHAT KEEPS IT ALL FROM BLENDING INTO GREY? ◞ :

[deadlyfantasia]

“Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, which is why i will end up an old maid.” -yuyuko

PRIDE & PREJUDICE PROMPTS | ACCEPTING

      A coy smile spread across the youkai's lips, "Oh? Shall we become old maids together then should no one come along to steal our hearts? We could buy matching rocking chairs and place them next to one another on a shaded porch somewhere. And we will sip tea together while watching the passing clouds. Side by side for eternity.... o poor us."

      A playful giggle followed as Yukari reached into a gap pulling retrieving a cup of green tea shamelessly stolen from some restaurant who knows where.

      "Shall we get a head start on our tragic fate~?"

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest

Summary: Everyone in D.A.M.N simp for the power couple at least a little bit - the Vampire Prince of Dahlia and the Electro Energetic. Gavin and the Freelancer would be lying if they said they haven't been watching them... respectfully. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Explicit implications courtesy of Gavin, of course] & [Oblivious narrators]

Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors because I wrote this the whole night and only edited it once. I’ll do the editing process again tomorrow morning.

-

Life as a student in D.A.M.N is nothing like regular colleges or universities. While the environment is hectic with exams, assignments and teachers with sticks up their asses - there's also a hint of craziness thrown into the mix. You can never really predict how your day would go here in the academy, and to most of the students, it's the typical college experience you'll get everywhere. Just... taken to the next level. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

An Air Elemental would accidentally shatter the windows in a classroom with a powerful gust of wind on a random ass Tuesday because she was laughing too hard. A Graviton Energetic would sneeze, and suddenly, the gravity in the music room would stick the instruments on the ceilings. The entire soccer team would fall flat on the grassy field, snoozing because the Serenity Daemon playing as the Goalkeeper uses too much magic to calm their anxious Sweeper during his first play with the team. 

With so many Empowered creatures of all kinds attending D.A.M.N, there's never a dull moment. You learned that the moment a loud growl came from the Debate Club on your second week as a student. A Wolf Shifter had gotten into a heated argument with a Vampire about the toppings that should and shouldn't be on a pizza. 

So yeah, typical college life with magic thrown into your daily shenanigans. 

Today, you can't help but wonder what sort of excitement would occur as the large clock above the lecture hall ticks by, counting down the second before the class is over. 

You check the clock and sigh. Just ten more minutes to go, but it feels like time is creeping forward at such a snail-like pace. Tapping your pen on the open notebook laid before you rather irritability, you just want the lecturer to stop yammering already so you can grab lunch at the food truck parked outside of campus. 

Something gently knocks against your knuckle. You tilt your head to the side and meet with Damien's unamused stare; it looks like this is the third time he caught you losing focus in class. 

"I told you to grab a snack before class started." Damien whispers, mindful to keep his voice even so the lecturer won't catch them chatting. Sadism Daemons are scary when you piss them off, and the way the lecturer's eyes sweep through the students is more than enough to have them all shut the hell up the moment he begins their topic of the day. 

"I was meeting up with Lasko and we lost track of time." You hiss back. Yesterday you made a promise to catch up with the Air Elemental before your first class started to organise the date and invitations for the next game night. Once Lasko starts talking about the things he's comfortable with, he loses his stutter and launches into an animated one-sided conversation. You didn't have the heart to stop him, not when he looks so happy and cute. 

Buying that Arkham Horror board game was the right purchase to surprise him with. 

While your mind replays the morning you spend with Lasko, Damien rolls his eyes. "Of course you did. Here." He pushes his coffee cup towards you. His fingers linger on the cup for a few seconds to make sure that the coffee remains hot enough to drink. 

You grab the cup, grateful for his consideration, and take a big swing. The coffee settles pleasantly in your stomach as warmth spreads within your body. 

You're more a tea drinker - the classic Early Grey and Gunpowder Green - but at this instance, coffee would hopefully kick your focus back into gear. 

"Thanks, Damien." You said before passing the cup back to him. You peeked at his notebook and wasn't surprised to find that it's packed with notes written in different coloured pens. "Hey, want to grab lunch together after this?" 

Damien switched the yellow pen for a red one when the lecturer mentioned something about a topic for the upcoming test. You absentmindedly wondered if it's worth your life stealing his notebook. "Sure. What are you in the mood for?" He asked. 

Finally, the lecturer dismisses the class. Chatters erupt as students pack up while some scurry over to the podium to ask a few questions.

You lean against your seat to stretch your back; your notebooks and stationery are already in your school backpack. You're just waiting for Damien now. "I'm craving for a burger and some cheesy loaded fries with a boba tea." God, just thinking about it is already enough to make your mouth watered. 

Being a health nut, Damien throws you a judgemental look at your food choice as you two made your way towards the main campus entrance. He easily follows your lead through a crowd of students, and Damien even gently pulls you closer to his side when a student whizzes by on her skateboard. 

With so many people talking and laughing around you and Damien, you can't help but hear the conversations hovering around you. 

"...had class with them yesterday? Dude, you're so lucky! Did you sit beside them!?" 

"Are you fucking crazy? No! I sat two rows behind them, but it was enough to smell their perfume. God, they're so gorgeous - I couldn't focus the entire time!" 

"I've heard a few players from the Earth Elemental team tried to invite them to their party this weekend, but they were shot down. Apply cold water on burned area." 

"Well, duh. You can't just walk up to them like that! They're one of the hottest people in this academy."

"Yeah, but those players are in one of the most well-respected sports teams in all of Dahlia, and even they can't stand a chance against them!"

Students parted ways as you and Damien approached the gates. Rows of food trucks parked across the street with tables and chairs placed about. The conversations tapered off behind you, along with the hubbub of the academy. You have a pretty good idea of whom those students were talking about. It's been a topic surrounding the academy ever since the start of the new academic year. 

Even as an introvert who prefers to hover to your few but close group of friends, you couldn't escape the latest academy gossip.

"Finally, I thought my ears would've fallen off before we could escape," Damien mutters. It's a cloudy Wednesday; dark clouds are rolling above them with an occasional burst of strong breeze cutting through. "You'd think they would just give it a rest already." 

The food truck you and Damien stop by displays a menu with a wide variety of food and drinks. From burgers to pasta and desserts ranging from ice-creams to Thai banana pancakes, your stomach begins to growl. You place your order in a hurry, whereas Damien selects a hearty sandwich stuffed with juicy and tender slices of slow-smoked beef brisket with veggies of his choice and chipotle mayo in between two crusty loaves with a bottle of water. 

You and Damien grab your meals to sit at one of the vacant tables and enjoy lunch together. Good food and good company - what more could you ask for? Well, other than Damien's tsk-ing and wiping the barbecue sauce that smudged the corner of your cheek like the mother hen he constantly denies to be. 

"Can't you eat your food properly, Freelancer? You're getting your fingers dirty too. Give me your hand." Damien demanded halfway through his sandwich. You grin impishly and offer your left hand for Damien to wipe with some tissue while the other is holding a burger. The thick sauce begins to drip. 

Soon enough, a familiar voice shouts at them from across the street. 

"Yo, Damien! Freelancer! Are you guys, like, having lunch? Can I join!?" 

You can't help but beam and wave your hand (that was still holding the burger) high up when Huxley crosses over. Damien squawked with eyes wide in horror when the barbecue sauce got all over the table. He hurried to wipe the table clean while you greeted Huxley. 

"Hi, Huxley! Are you grabbing lunch too? Take a seat, man!" 

"Thanks a bunch, dude. It's been a while since I hung out with you two." 

"We literally had a class together two days ago." 

"Two days too long, Damien. I miss you guys." 

"Aww, that's super sweet of you, Hux!"

"Oh, for the love of - just go buy something already before the next class starts." 

Huxley happily gives Damien two thumbs up before grabbing his food and drink. When he returned to their table, he brought a tray of smoothie consisting of kale, spinach, banana, orange, and vanilla blended into green mush in a plastic cup and a plate of vegan quesadillas. 

The moment Huxley sat down, you took a sip of his drink and made a face. 

"Yeah, I ask them to hold back on the honey because I like the vanilla more," Huxley explains before tucking in. "Oh! But I can ask them to add more honey if you want. That’s like, totally cool." 

You quickly shake your head and clean your palate with your sweet boba tea. "It's cool, Hux. Just wanted to try a sip. You're really into these crazy healthy smoothies." 

"They're the bomb, dude. My Mums introduced a few recipes to me when I was a kid, and I basically hooked ever since." The Earth Elemental explains after gulping down a good chunk of the green goo. 

"Yeah, well, with the calories you burned up during practice, I guess you can't go wrong with smoothies," Damien added thoughtfully. His sandwich is all gone. He props an elbow on the table and cradles his face in one open palm. "Anyway, what's up, Huxley? Anything new happened?" 

"Nah, it's been nothing but the same shit lately. Classes, assignments and practices for the upcoming Elemental & Energetic Games - normal stuff. What about you guys?" 

"More or less the same." Damien replies, soundly ignoring your "We're hitting the tournament arc!" outburst. "Planning to organise a study group for the upcoming tests. I expect the two of you will be joining, by the way." 

At Damien's words, Huxley beams brighter. Any brighter, you'd need a pair of sunglasses. "For real, dude!? You're like, the best friend ever, Damien! C'mere - lemme give you a hug!" 

You snicker when despite Damien's frantic protest, Huxley shoot up from his chair and quickly hugs the Fire Elemental tightly before he has the chance to weasel away. 

Also, you didn't miss the chance to snap a quick picture of them to show Gavin tonight. 

Unaware of your phone, Damien grumbled when Huxley finally released him, and they sat down again. The three of you continue to chat about everything and anything. Soon, the topic shifts from tests to plans for the weekend. 

Huxley snapped his fingers when you mentioned Lasko's gaming night and the tabletop game you recently bought for him so they could all play together. 

"I totally forgot about the party! A few guys in my team are having a party this Saturday, and I want to invite you guys and Lasko. Oh! Gavin too! It's going to be a blast, and on Sunday, we can play that new board game."

You and Damien exchange a glance. "Sounds fun. Actually, we've heard about the party just now. How many people are your team members inviting?" You asked, curious. 

Huxley takes a moment to ponder before shrugging. He's nearly done with this food. "It's supposed to be just with a few close friends. Nothing too crazy, you know? After the last party that ended with fireworks exploding in someone's bedroom, they want to keep it lowkey." 

"Huh. Close friends, but they tried to invite a certain Energetic," Damien interjects. "What's up with that?" 

"You heard about that too?" Huxley replied, surprise coloured his tone. "Word travel like, super-fast around campus! It happened, like, yesterday morning!" 

Damien let out an annoyed groan and ran a palm down his face. "I think it's safe to say that everyone in this fucking academy is talking about it and nothing else. God, no matter where you go, you can't escape it." 

You pat Damien's arm in a comforting manner. "They're hot and popular; people will be talking about them until we all graduate." 

"And if it isn't them, people would be talking about their boyfriend," Huxley pointed out, stirring his smoothie languidly. Huxley smiles and offers it to you when you critically stare at it for a tad too long. Against your better judgement, you try again. 

Blek! It still tastes the same! Huxley just chuckles and finishes the rest of the smoothie while you seek solace with your boba tea again. 

"Besides, it's not often you see an Energetic and Vampire couple walking around," Huxley continued. "I think they're living together too. I mean, that's what I heard." 

"Don't tell me you also have a crush on them."  

Before Huxley could say anything, you tentatively raise your hand as if you guys are in class. Now you bear Damien's annoyed glance. "I was kinda hardcore crushing on them and their boyfriend before Gavin and I officially got together. They keep to themselves and their boyfriend most of the time, but they're super nice in classes." 

The Elemental and Energetic courses often have classes that intermingle every week. However, they're primarily compulsory lessons like magical history, laws regarding coverts and taxonomy of various Empowered creatures. 

So you're practically classmates with the hottest Electro Energetic in the academy and had even sat beside them a few times during class. Unlike many of the students who simp for them at a distance. 

The power couple of D.A.M.N is certainly interesting, to say the least. 

You narrowed your eyes at Damien when he refused to let up his disappointed stare. "Don't lie to me. You simp for them too." 

Damien huffs and crosses his arms. "Both of them look good, alright. Anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell from a mile away. They're gorgeous, and the Vampire is hot - so what?" 

"They're both super strong too." Huxley unknowingly throws more wood into the fire. 

By the time their lunch ended, Damien had demanded they talk about something else, so you jump into plans for the weekend. Party on Saturday and a gaming session on Sunday. 

Typical college life.

-

When the time on your phone displays 10.30 PM in glaring bright light and you're still on campus, you know what death feels like. 

It's quiet in the cafeteria, save for a small group of students huddled together around tables scattered in various places. Their heads are hunched down as they go over textbooks and assignments. One of the students happens to be a Vampire judging from the blood bag beside his laptop. 

A red swirly straw juts out of the bag, and for a brief moment of exhaustion, you entertain the image of the student sipping the blood bag as if it was a Capri Sun. 

Just like those students, the reason why you've stayed late in the academy's cafeteria is because of assignments. You know that if you bring your homework back home with you, you won't get any of it done. It's better to stay here and slough through them instead. 

Damien would scold and drag you home if he knew. Huxley would be sad and plead for you to rest, and Lasko would put on his guidance counsellor voice and advise you that a good night's sleep would help you think better. 

The boys mean well, and you love them for it, but you know yourself better than anyone. If you don't finish these assignments tonight, you would just procrastinate until the deadline punches you right in the face. 

You sigh and rub your temple in frustration. You've made good progress so far, but there's still a few left and you want to complete them all before going home. So you resume writing down the essay about the importance of convert and the Department on your laptop, fingers deftly flying all over the keyboard. 

Nighttime at D.A.M.N is not as busy as it is in the morning. The students that are going in and out of classes are mostly Vampires and nocturnal animal Shifters. The academy's faculties are also lesser in terms of numbers compared to their morning counterpart. 

Twice you've experienced the nightlife at D.A.M.N, and tonight would be your third. You wondered if Gavin is at home already. Hopefully, you can return to the apartment before him. Better wrap this up, then. 

The steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard and quiet discussion from the group of students slowly lull you to sleep. Hang in there just a little more! 

The sound of a Daemon Rifting into this world startles you awake. 

"Here you are, Deviant," Gavin said, his ordinarily seductive voice laced with conceal anger. Oh shit, you're in trouble now. "I thought we talked about this." 

You have no choice but to face him. Gavin looks devastatingly as sexy as ever; his black t-shirt snugly fits his body to the point that it showcases his biceps tastefully. A pair of dark blue jeans that he just so happens knows will get your heart racing and accompanied by a pair of shiny black Doc Martens boots. A rainbow-coloured bead bracelet is on his right wrist; a gift from Caelum. 

You would've swoon at the sight of him if you weren't seconds away from face planting on your laptop. 

So instead, you greet him with a, "Whaaa... Gavin?" You rub your eyes and blink at him. "W-What are you doing here? I thought you'd be - " You break out a yawn before sighing. "At home by now." 

"Funny. I thought the same thing about you but colour me surprised when Caelum reached out to me while I was grocery shopping — saying that you aren't home even when it's close to midnight." Gavin explains and tilts his head to the spread of books you have before you. "So, want to explain why you're at the campus cafeteria right now instead of in our bed?" 

The gears in your head are scrambling to come up with an excuse that's good enough to appease Gavin. So lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the whispers coming from the nearby students. 

"That's the main boyfriend..." 

"Holy fuck, an Incubus? Damn, they're insatiable!" 

"How often do you think they have orgies? Twice a week?" 

" - collecting them like Pokemon!" 

Oh fuck it, you can't come up with anything decent. "I'm nearly done with my assignments, Gavin." You assured the worried Incubus. "Just need to write down a few more paragraphs..." 

Gavin is undeterred. "Freelancer, we talked about this. It's not healthy that you're making a habit of staying over at campus late at night because of assignments. You're going to burn out like this." 

Well yeah, you could feel your body is already seconds away from collapsing but like hell would you admit that to your boyfriend. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. It's a good thing that tomorrow's the weekend. 

Gavin startles you once more by leaning against the table and cupping your face in his large hands, so you're forced to look straight into his eyes. He's many things, but to those he deeply trusts and loves, his eyes would always betray the worry and concern he has for you and Caelum; even if his words aren't as forthcoming at times. "My stubborn, enticing Deviant... Are you being a brat again? Not listening to your Dom like you should be?" He purrs. 

All of a sudden, your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper, and your heart skips a beat at Gavin's tone. You're very familiar with that tone - it always promises punishment and pleasure mixed together until nothing else exists except for your boyfriend. 

But the question now is, how far can you actually push him. So with Gavin still refusing to release your face, you swallow and reply as nonchalantly as you can, "Oh, I don't know about enticing, Gavin. I-I mean, I've been running around campus the whole day. Probably have some barbecue sauce stain on my jacket and - Ow!" 

You puff out your cheeks when Gavin pinched them. 

"Are you purposely trying to test me, Freelancer? You know that just means more fun for me, and you tie up and helpless on the bed, right?" Gavin is all too happy to remind you, cocking one eyebrow at your impertinence. No doubt he already has your punishment in mind when the two of you are home. 

But you're not going to budge that easily. Sensing your stubbornness, Gavin lets you go and unleashes his ultimate move with a sigh. 

"I can see the Knots on you, Freelancer, and if I can see them, Caelum can too. I'm not covering your ass when he comes over for breakfast tomorrow and starts crying." 

You gasp and immediately recoil. "Low blow Gavin!" You counter, but you know that he speaks the truth. Your heart will literally break if you're the reason that Caelum cries. 

Gavin smirks when you switch off your laptop. He helps put your things away and offers a hand to you. With a small smile, you let yourself be gently pulled up by him and sling your backpack over a shoulder. 

"Are you hungry?" Gavin asked as the two of you stepped into the large hallway, hand-in-hand. "I didn't manage to make anything when I put the groceries away, but I can whip something up real quick when we get home." 

It's a sweet gesture, and you made sure that he knows how much you appreciate it by squeezing his hand. Ever since you two started living together, Gavin is determined to feed you properly. According to him, it's only fitting since you've constantly been feeding him too. "I'm more sleepy than hungry." You reply after a yawn. "I'll just eat a big breakfast tomorrow." 

"I'll hold you to it. Also, look alive, Deviant. Hottie approaching at 12 O'clock." 

That got your attention immediately, and snapped your eyes forward. Your jaw would've dropped if it weren't for Gavin lightly nudging your side when you saw who was walking towards the two of you. 

It's them — the Electro Energetic that became the talk around campus. 

They're as breathtaking as ever, even after a whole day of classes and club activities. Not a single hair out of place and clothes unruffled. Their body language stood out to you; their gait is a little hesitant but friendly, while their eyes are kind. 

It's easy to see why so many people harbour crushes on them, and you've always been a sucker for cute faces. 

When they finally approach you, they pull out a pair of wireless white earbuds from their ears. That's when you hear intense music playing:

It's the Pumpkin Patch King 

With the corpse with the ring

And she'd fuck my best friend if I die here today...

"Um, hi. Good evening. I'm sorry for bothering you guys so late like this. Are you heading home?" They inquire tentatively. 

Gavin waits for you to take the lead. "Hey, man. Yeah, we kind of are, actually. Want us to walk you home?" You could feel how pleased Gavin is beside you. The offer just crosses your mind, and besides, it's not nice to walk alone this late at night. 

That's what you're telling yourself despite the small part in your brain whispered that walking them home would be a great step of getting to know them better. It's just a harmless crush anyway. 

Unfortunately, they decline the offer. "I'm waiting for someone, actually, but when I saw you, I wanted to talk for a bit." 

Your heart skips a beat for a second time tonight. They specifically sought you out? You? When they've never done so towards anyone before? 

"O-Oh," You embarrassingly squeak, clutching Gavin's hand tighter.

The Electro Energetic nod. They tilt their head like an indulged, curious cat and god, that simple gesture shouldn't look so hot. "I don't know if you notice me, but we share Covert Laws - "

If you notice them? If you notice them!? They have a stronger presence than the lecturers themselves! They radiate magic like thunderstorms - intimidating, powerful and commanding that you have no choice but to submit to it. 

Sitting beside them was an experience and a half! There's no way an Empowered creature could ignore them despite their quiet demeanour! 

" - and I was wondering if you would like to be partners for the final project this year? Um, I heard that you're really good in that class, and I promise to pull my weight with the research and - "

You don't know how to react. Is this really happening? One of the most popular students in the academy wanted to be your project partner? You thought this sort of situation only occurs in animes! 

"They'd love to." Gavin smoothly answers when you're too shocked to say anything. "It's always nice to make new friends after all. Especially with a walking wet dream such as yourself." Here, he purposely pauses to appraise the Electro Energetic. 

Just like his Freelancer, Gavin has heard all about this Empowered human and even basks in the delicious energy coming from the thoughts and emotions his partner has for them. As an Incubus and their boyfriend, it's hilarious that his Deviant thought he's not aware of their crush. It's cute. 

Hmm... it'll be nice if he and the Freelancer could invite the Energetic and their Vampire lover into their bed one of these days. Regardless if they've been Marked; honestly, that just made the couple as appealing as the biblical Forbidden Fruit. 

And besides, Gavin has a strong feeling that the Freelancer wouldn't oppose the idea. It'll be the perfect anniversary present for his Deviant. 

"...Was that supposed to be a compliment?" They ask warily. Oops, looks like he's coming on a little too strongly. Time to take it down a notch. 

"It's whatever you want it to be. Anyway, now that you guys are... partners, what say you get to know us better, hmm? My lover has been eager to be friends with you." Gavin explains. You whip your head at him incredulously. Is he seriously doing what you think he's doing!? "I'm Gavin, by the way. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." 

The Energetic look confused, and you can't blame them. You need to save them before Gavin proposes something as crazy as an orgy on your behalf! 

You laugh awkwardly, bringing their attention to you. "Right! Partners! I'd love to be yours - I-I mean, uh, for school stuff! Yeah! Can we exchange numbers?" 

"Smooth, Deviant." Gavin teases. Something caught his interest, not that you notice as you and the Energetic trade contact information. They compliment the cute picture you have as your Home Screen (it's a selfie shot of you and Gavin, Lasko, Damien and Huxley during the previous game night. It's a shame that Caelum couldn't appear), and in return, you ask where did they buy their sick phone cover. 

While they still feel like the human embodiment of a fierce thunderstorm, it's nice to have a casual conversation with them. They're thoughtful, kind and fun that you soon find yourself calming down a little. 

"Not to cut this riveting conversation short, but are you sure that you don't want us to walk you home? It's getting really late, and we're more than happy to have you crash at our place for the night." Gavin interjects with a seductive grin, eyes half-lidded. 

"Umm..." 

Whoa, what happened to being friendly, Gavin!? You shoot him a look; he's going to drive them away! 

"We have an extra guest room at our apartment." You hurried to explain. "So it's totally cool if your place is far away or something." 

Their hesitation melts to understanding. The last thing that you want is a misunderstanding between you two. 

"You guys are sweet, but I'll be alright. Actually, I'm about to leave the campus too. I'm just going to hang out at the cafeteria until he arrives." They said. You have a pretty good idea who 'he' is judging by their soft smile. 

Gavin, for some reason, amp up his game. With a smirk, he cajoles, "Since he hasn't shown up yet, how about you hang out with us for a bit? There's a bar not too far from here - "

You flinched, and Gavin automatically shuts up and pulls you close to his side when a Vampire appears behind the Electro Energetic. It was so sudden that his appearance was a blur at first. 

"Vincent? You're done with class already?" They blink. An arm snaked around their waist as the Vampire pulled his Mate close to his chest. The Energetic had to crane their head up slightly to look at him. 

He's as tall as Gavin. Dressed in a casual black coat that screams money with a dark grey shirt accompanied by a pair of black jeans and boots. His silver studs, rings and watch glimmer underneath the fluorescent lights. Everything about this man reminds you of a panther sizing up its prey. 

You gulped. He's currently glaring daggers at you and your boyfriend. You're itching to stutter out a, "This isn't what it looks like!" for some reason. 

Now, ever since you learned about the existence of magic and Empowered creatures, you did your best to be open-minded. Even that whole ordeal with Vega didn't stop you from reaching out to the various Daemons attending the academy. 

However, you haven't managed to befriend a Vampire due to their night classes, and even the few times you stay back like today, most of them are running back and forth through the hallways to catch their next lesson. 

So to be the target of a pissed off Vampire made you uncomfortable. You want to fidget, but Gavin's arm secured around you ease some of that tension. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm on break right now, so I can drive you back home. You done with that talk with your guidance counsellor?" The Vampire inquired, eyes still glued at you and Gavin. 

"All done. We lost track of time when we discussed next semester's timetable for the Energetic course and potential careers once we graduate." His lover explains, unaware of the displeasure rolling off like waves from their boyfriend. "I think I need some time to go over them again. It's a bit much to take in."

The Vampire hums in acknowledgement. "We can go through them together this weekend if you like, Lovely. Maybe we can ask Will for help since he's coming over on Saturday for dinner too." 

Oh, you suppose that's why they reject the Earth Elemental players' invitation to the party. 

But the Vampire wasn't done. He assesses you and Gavin with narrowed eyes as if you were stains on the bottom of his boots. What the hell? "By the way, are these guys bothering you?" 

A chill sweeps through you, sending goosebumps crawling on your skin at the sudden shift of tone. He was warm and affectionate when speaking to his lover, but now? It's colder than ice.

Gavin, whose smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, is utterly unfazed at the Vampire's hostility. In fact, you would go as far as to say that he's relishing it. "We're just keeping your gorgeous Mate company while they're waiting for you. I was just about to propose that we move the conversation to a bar so we could all get to know one another a lot more... intimately." 

Oh god, they're so fucked. You have no idea why your boyfriend is trying to start shit up, but you're too tired to deal with this drama. So again, you try to salvage the situation. 

"Just as friends!" You quickly butt in. "We decide to be partners for an assignment in Covert Laws, so hanging out at a bar sounds like a good idea as friends." You're sprouting bullshits at this point, but you hope it's enough to save both of your asses. You also made sure to emphasise the word 'friends'. 

The Vampire quickly looks at the Energetic for confirmation, and they readily nod. His aggressive body posture relaxes somewhat, but he's still wary of you and Gavin. 

Maybe this is the best time to introduce yourself to him. 

"Uh, it's a little silly that we didn't introduce ourselves right away, but I'm a Freelancer." You mutter out rather awkwardly. Should you offer a hand to him? 

Gavin saves you from doing so. "And I’m their boyfriend, Gavin. An Incubus." 

"...Vincent Solaire." The Vampire - Vincent - reluctantly replies. 

Wait - his surname sounds familiar, though. You think you heard it in one of the classes about the supernatural factions in Dahlia... It's on the tip of your tongue... 

"Oh, we've heard all about you, Your Highness." Gavin slyly quips. "You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

Holy shit. Solaire! The most powerful Vampire clan in the city! You remember now; the King has two progeny - A Vampire Princess & Prince. You didn't expect the Energetic boyfriend to be the Prince himself! What a twist! 

"Celebrities?" The Energetic - Lovely, as Vincent calls them - pipes up in confusion. The way their eyebrows furrow is adorable, but you wisely keep that to yourself. 

They really are a mesmerising couple. You detect the perfume that lingers around Lovely is sweet and misty. It's calming yet so light that it dances just out of your reach; like a coy lover. Slowly driving you mad with desire. Vincent's cologne reminds you of husk and cedar. Subtle, but once you catch a whiff of it, it'll stay within your mind for hours on end. Wondering if that particular scent will ever return - like the perfect one night stand. 

It says a lot about the couple. 

"We haven't done anything wrong." Vincent Solaire stated, voice as hard as steel. "I don't know why you're trying to rile us up, Incubus, but I don't appreciate you and your lover hitting on my Mate when I made it clear that I Mark them." 

Ooooh, he's jealous! Wait - did you come across as flirty to him!? Did Gavin purposely flirt with Lovely to make Vincent jealous? You've completely lost the plot. 

"Consider it as an act of public service," Gavin answers, easily brushing off the Vampire Prince's irritability. "Besides, how can I not when you both are half of the student body's recent fantasies." 

Lovely 'eeped' when Vincent bare his fangs at your boyfriend. "Back off, Gavin. Lovely is mine. Not yours or the Freelancer's." 

Whoa, whoa! A severe misunderstanding is boiling here! No one is stealing Lovely away from him! 

Fortunately, Lovely has gotten tired of the conversation. With a put-out sigh, they pat the arm around their waist to capture Vincent's attention. It worked. "No one is stealing the other's partner, Vince. It's all good; chill. You know you're the only one for me, right?" Here, they peck his cheek. "When did you get so possessive?" 

Vincent grumbled but didn't explain himself, so Lovely just shook their head. 

"Anyway, we better get going before Vincent's next class starts. It was nice meeting you two. I'll text you soon so we can plan on how to tackle that project." 

You give a shaky smile and a thumbs up. "Looking forward to it." 

Immediately after you said that, Vincent bares his fangs to you next. Oh my god, this guy needs to fucking relax! 

"We're going! We're going! C'mon, Vincent. You're driving me home. Now." 

And with that, you watch as Lovely drags the Vampire Prince to the parking lot. It's a strange yet comical sight. You only sigh in relief when they're out of your view. 

"I thought I saw my life flashing before my eyes!" You complain. Those were the single most stressful moments that you’ve encountered— second to Vega invading your home. 

"I think that went well, Deviant." Gavin objected, very pleased with himself. "He's pissed now, but he and his Mate will be thanking us soon." 

So you were right; Gavin purposely flirted with Lovely just to rile Vincent up, and for what? Possessive, sexy time later tonight? Oh, whatever. That's enough drama for one night; you seriously just need to pass out now. 

And with that, the two of you head home without realising your interactions with the power couple of D.A.M.N didn't go by unnoticed by the several students who were hovering close. 

-

"Are you hurting anywhere, Lovely?" 

"I'm alright, Vincent. The hickeys and bruises are healing nicely; my body still feels a bit sore but not enough to cripple me, so stop hovering near the door." 

Vincent guilty did as he’s told and takes a seat on the corner of the bed. He watches you apply some light makeup on your face and neck in front of the vanity table as you're getting ready to head out to the academy. Your outfit compliments your look and, most importantly, hides any patches of skin except for your hands. 

Vincent really went all out last weekend after his night classes ended. It's obvious that Gavin unleashed something within your lover, and you will freely admit that an unrestrained Vincent makes for a very fun and wild night. 

The moment Will came over and realised that Vincent re-Mark you an hour before he arrives, he graciously decided to take a rain check and promise to have dinner with the two of you some other time. 

Once Vincent gets it out of his system, he teased before leaving you gobsmacked and Vincent a blushing mess. 

"You know, your guidance counsellor wouldn't mind if you're absent from classes today, Lovely. Probably." Vincent tries; a part of him doesn't want his Lovely to attend their lessons while their body is still healing. Then again, that part also whispers that the Incubus and his lover would be around them without his supervision. 

Nope. No. Bad Vincent. Lovely is more than capable of taking care of themselves. They don't need him acting like a jealous, clingy boyfriend. 

However, something that the Incubus bothered him. 

"You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

What did he mean by that? He and Lovely had been playing good students the entire time they've been on campus! Their assignments are always delivered on time, grades nothing but above average, and they keep to themselves to avoid any typical college dramas.  

Is it because of his status? For some reason, Vincent feels like it's more complicated than that. What a headache. 

"Maybe, but I did promise the Freelancer that I’ll catch up with them to discuss our project," You commented and spritz your favourite perfume on your wrists and neck. You love this scent, despite it being cheap and common. "Vincent, honey, you're making that face again." 

"It's my face, Lovely." 

"Yeah, well, you have your happy-snappy-neck face again, Vincent." You dryly point out before sitting beside the Vampire. "Did that Incubus really rub you the wrong way?" Your voice is gentle. You didn't get any bad vibes coming from Gavin and the Freelancer - just genuine, harmless, friendly flirting. In a way, you welcome it as their attempts helped you drive your anxiety away. 

God, walking up to them was hard enough. You always feel a little intimidated whenever you're around charismatic people. 

"I don't know... I thought they were making you nervous, and the words that kept coming out of that Daemon's mouth? He knew what he was doing; I just can't figure out what or why." Vincent admits, frustrated. 

Seeing him look so frustrated saddens you, so you propose a suggestion. "How about this, I'll ask the Freelancer what that whole thing on Friday was all about, and if it's anything gross, I'll give you a call so you can deal with them. How's that?" 

It assured Vincent. Seeing his tiny smile urge you to peppered his face with kisses until he laughs. With your boyfriend now properly appeased, you leave the apartment for D.A.M.N. 

It's a bright Monday morning. You hope that this week will be a little kinder to you than the previous one. However, the moment you arrived on campus, everyone was glancing at you curiously. When you made eye contact with the stares, the students couldn't walk away fast enough. 

Weird. 

Your first class of the day is on the second floor, so you didn't waste any time heading for the stairs. Students mingle around as they go about their day; some grab breakfast at the convenient store, while others chat with their friends at the cafeteria and lounge room. A Water Elemental is performing simple tricks at the marble fountain to an adoring crowd.

Just as you rounded a corner, the crowd parted ways with a subtlety of a serial killer in slasher movies, which is to say, absolutely none whatsoever to reveal your new friend. The Freelancer is flanked by their boyfriend, Gavin, on the left and on their right, the famous player in the Earth Elemental team Huxley and one of the academy's guidance counsellors, Lasko. 

You couldn't help but notice that everyone is giving them a wide berth. Not that it matters when Gavin's body is positioned to shield the Freelancer from bumping into any of the passing students. Huxley passes a bottle of orange juice to them while Lasko is staring at something behind the Freelancer. He mutters something under his breath.  

A loud voice suddenly bounces off the walls. "What happened to my water tumbler, Freelancer!?" 

You and every other student in the area watch as the Freelancer turns around and loudly replies, "Don't worry! I already got you a new tumbler, Damien! It looks exactly like your old one. Except it's pastel pink with kittens on it, and the shape looks like a really fat snowman with bunny ears for straws." To make a point, the Freelancer rummage inside of their backpack and proudly present the weirdest looking water tumbler you had ever seen in your life to their boys. 

"AAAAAHHHHH!" 

"You know you could at least see it before you judge it, Damien." The Freelancer grumbled and shoved the tumbler back. Huxley gently pats their shoulder in a comforting manner. Lasko laughs nervously while Gavin continues to protect his lover silently, all the while looking at ease. 

Everyone knows of the Freelancer and their boyfriends. They're the most popular group in D.A.M.N for a reason. Friendly, yet no one can be a part of their group due to the tight bond they have with one another.

The Freelancer is quickly shaping up to be a remarkable magical individual in their own right, marching to the beat of their own drums rather than the world's. Unwaveringly kind and friendly, constantly making sure the people around them are comfortable and safe. 

In terms of academic performance, Damien remains unchallenged among his peers. Everyone could tell that he would undoubtedly change their world for the better the moment he graduates, especially in governing. He's also known for his fiery temper, yet that fire becomes a hearth when it comes to the Freelancer. More than once, students have stumbled upon them huddled close in the library, softly discussing the future they wanted. 

If Damien is known for his academic excellence, then Huxley is famous for his prowess in the field. His mastery over his element made the younger Earth Elementals look up to him as their role model while his teammates view him as their ace. Charming, cheerful yet a bit absentminded at times, and even then, you can't help but be fond of him. You can find the Freelancer cheering him from the bleachers during his matches, and once Huxley won the game, he would immediately launch himself at them. Sweats, dirt and grass all over him, but the Freelancer would laugh as he hoisted them up in his embrace. 

Lasko is an odd addition to their group, but once he drops his stuttering, he shows just how capable he is as one of the academy's guidance counsellors. Acknowledged as one of the most powerful Air Elemental of his generation, Lasko is well on track to graduate D.A.M.N with honours, and while the future might be uncertain, students like to speculate that he will remain with the Freelancer and the others no matter what. Sometimes you can even catch a glimpse of them hanging out at one of the local cafes and see how bright and alive Lasko can be when around the Freelancer. 

Gavin came with a mystery trailing his saunter. See, no one knew how exactly he and the Freelancer first met. Speculations range from a cute, accidental meet up in a random convenience store to the Incubus boldly inviting them into a threesome when the Freelancer stumbled upon him mid-feeding. Lovely wonders if there's a betting pool going around the academy. The seniors would recognise Gavin, for he was their peer before he suddenly dropped out and vanished for a while. But judging by his frequent presence around the Freelancer, some say that he's looking forward to retaking his previous course. But whatever the reason may be, no one can deny the chemistry he has with the Freelancer. How fiercely protective he is of them when the Freelancer isn't looking. 

They're certainly an intriguing group, that's for sure. 

And when Gavin notices you were watching them, he winks at you. No doubt as an Incubus, he could scent what you and Vincent had been up to the entire weekend. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

-

PS: Everyone in D.A.M.N (including Lovely & Vincent) hilariously assumes that the Freelancer is in a poly relationship with Gavin, Damien, Lasko & Huxley when in reality, they're just with Gavin. BBBBuuuttt... Gavin could detect the romantic/lustful feelings the other bois harbour for the Freelancer but kept it to himself for now. He's just waiting for the Freelancer to feel the same way so he could give them all The Talk™ and then go buy a bigger bed!

Anyway, I seriously had a lot of fun writing for this oneshot! It's been a while since I had that writing fever again so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[h0lygh0stlings]

I decided to finally make a big ole, main post on my TWF Oc Jodie since I did some new art of her, and such!

ᴺᵃᵐᵉ: Jodie D. Carpenter .

ᴬᵍᵉ: Forty four; born in 1938 during the late month of April.♈

ᴴᵉⁱᵍʰᵗ: 5'5", sometimes appearing 5'6" .

ᴳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ: Female; with feminine and gender neutral pronouns

---

ᴬᵖᵖᵉᵃʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ: 

Although being forty four, they appear a bit younger on some days and their bubbly attitude that comes out in front of their friends could make one double look, and double guess if they truly were the age they said they were--. Then, there are the other days that hit them, the roughness, that worn down feeling practically oozing onto their features and making them look older, and oh so tired no matter how much they try to hide it. It's from everything, and everything to come. Years of hard work, and years of t r y i n g .

Jodie is a short, petite female with dark, messy brown hair that's long and goes far past their shoulders, and they have very, extremely pale skin with a hint of freckles scattered across. They're seen wearing very chunky, large and oversized clothing. Jeans, and sweaters most of the time with them preferring muted, and dark toned colors like greys, and darker blue shades. She is also seen often more so in their BunnySmiles INC uniform; consisting of a button up top and a long pencil skirt as well as their I.D. card, pinned neatly to the rightside of their chest . 

The only thing being, they aren't seen much let alone often enough, being a loner of the sorts outside of those they're forced to see because of their job. Jodie is a male-to-female Transgender person and is ever so slightly open about it, with them leaning towards they/them and she/her pronouns, and they are also on the shorter side compared to most. They wear many different styles of shoes, and slip on sandals to hide it, and to give them an extra inch in their step. Overall, it being yet another thing they do in hopes of blending in with everything, everyone .

ᴾᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ: 

A kindhearted person overall--, if meeting properly or ever outside of work, Jodie tends to come off as gentle. They have a very soft, and quiet type of personality with them often keeping to themselves, except for when it comes to them being around their family, and friends. Reserved, and calm. A bit shy, even. A smile, filled with secrets one would think, a lie compared to their reality. False. A mystery, of pain and agony. Someone struggling beyond work, and their desperate need for silence, peace. A moment to themselves. They're a hard worker also, and tend to over work themselves no matter what they seem to be doing, and that has been a trait that had stuck with them ever since they'd been a teen, in college-- and ever since she had started to work for the company in itself . 

After the incident leading up to the disappearances, and everything with The Waltens, and the first round of the restaurant closing down, their kindhearted, go-to attitude had sort of withered off in it's own way, and had been replaced with further silence, more of her quiet side. It had lead her to struggle to find work between the relocation project, and the rotting hopes of a revival ever, e v e r fully happening for the restaurant and it's animatronics, and she had eventually pushed the thoughts of it all, everything back into the farthest crevices of her mind until it had been brought back up-- and she had been brought on board to help design more things for the company. Jodie can come off as a bit gruff, a bit intimidating looking far more than she ever is, and their appearance and attitude nowadays is often deceiving compared to how they used to be, and actually really are.

ᴮⁱᵒᵍʳᵃᵖʰʸ: 

Jodie had been a slight friend of the Walten family, and the Krankens before they had came to be during their college years, and had been a longtime friend of Linda Thompson at the time before anything, and any of the incidents in the later years had taken place.

Born in Minnesota, with their family and their siblings somehow ending up, and moving to Michigan later on-- they had grown up being an aspiring artist, and had eventually fell into studying the arts, and graphic design for their classes during the years they met Linda, Jack Walten and his wife. It had eventually became a no-brainer of a question if they had wanted to aid in their longtime dreams of their business, and become a part of their restaurant franchise. She had been m o r e than excited to. Soon over time, taking on the job as the company's cartoonist, and mascot designer for the showstoppers, and soon being the partial influence to the iconic pops, and hints of bright color sprawled about the restaurant and it's overall design.

With the constant whirlwind of the hype, and the excitement for them surrounding the opening of Bon's Burgers, it was like watching their words, and their ideas spring to life right in front of them no matter the years it had taken them. Except, it had taken time. Lots, and lots of time. More than they had expected, more than Jodie had expected. They had eventually had families, and had gotten married during the process of it all, the Walten's having their own children even, although throughout the time Jodie had remained mostly single during it all. Focusing more so on her work and such more than anything, and more for the restaurant. The business's creations, their constantly growing, changing ideas. They kept her constantly busy, and they were more than the same when it came to themselves. Spending hours, sometimes weekends at the warehouse. She was one to overwork herself, but never was one to complain. Constantly busy,y e t, happy. Content. Little had she known about the never ending tragedies that would follow, and what BunnySmiles INC., and all the hard work put into it all would cause. Their own dream, A living nightmare that everyone would never be able to escape. That she wouldn't be able to escape.

[Jodie's backstory is written before the accident and before Jack Walten's disappearance; I will be adding more and adding a verse to her bio for after the accident/disappearance soon!]

[misiwrites]

Beyblade Week Day 4

i'm sorry i'm out here still posting things so late but here's my fourth and final 4kingdoms-verse oneshot for @beybladeweek2021, mostly this is late because i was out of town last week but these prompts were also the hardest to make a oneshot about, somehow i managed to make a quirky little story about max anyway.

this takes place probably somewhere right before the beginning of the main fic, or close to it anyways. and i feel like this needs the small explanation that 4kingdoms max looks a bit different because the north has no sunlight (don’t ask me how that works. it’s fantasy)

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Fears / Animals / Winter

“Aaugh!”

As patient as Max is, the strange sound of Giancarlo’s sudden scream followed by a soft, barely audible thump of something hitting the floor in the walk-in closet is enough to snap his attention from the game console in his hands. He casts a curious look across his bedroom to witness the striped leg of a plush toy sticking out through the narrow crack of the closet door.

Now he can already tell what has happened. Regardless, he drops the game on the couch and jumps to his feet to see what his knight has gotten himself into in the closet.

“You opened the forbidden door!” Max gloats at Giancarlo, now standing ankle-deep in a sea of plush toys. “I told you the games are in the second from left, not from right.”

“Is this why you call that door ‘forbidden’?” Giancarlo asks, one hand still on the handle of the closet door that the avalanche of toys descended on him from. “I expected something more... I don’t know... scandalous... or personal.”

“This is personal. They’re all mine.” Max crouches over to pick one of the plush toys up, the yellow mascot character of a popular Eastern children’s game franchise. “Oh man, these take me back. I haven’t really seen them since Mama ordered them to be put away. She said I was too old to keep them in my bed. But I refused to have them taken out, so I got this closet for them instead.”

“Aha. I don’t mean to judge your decisions, but I think there’s a few too many for a closet of this size.”

“Well, they fit in just fine before you opened the door like an idiot.”

Max lets his eyes scan the colourful blast on the floor, admiring the chaos of all the scattered shapes of different stuffed creatures, some more nostalgic than others but each and every one so familiar to him; some expensive and store-bought, some hand-made by his father or someone else, he hardly even remembers at this point; it’s been so long since he was gifted these toys, and at least a couple of years since Judy wanted them sealed away.

And then one of them catches his eye over the rest, one that makes his heart skip a beat of bittersweet joy and longing. He tramples and kicks his way past other toys to get to the middle.

It’s a plush dog, one whose tattered, worn-out shape isn’t particularly distinguishable as a dog. It has an elongated body and small stubs for legs, folded ears – well, one ear, as the other has come off and been lost to time – and a small, thin tail that’s also on its way to come off its stitches but is barely hanging on, miserably drooping down from the back of the caramel brown animal that’s so thoroughly covered in dirt and dust that it looks grey. The dog’s black button eyes are intact, at least, and it still has a red little tongue sticking out of its mouth.

Max is momentarily frozen in place staring at the dog. This toy brings back so many memories, some of which threaten to turn his stomach as the long-forgotten anxiety rushes back in one tidal wave, it climbs up the ladder of his spine like an unwelcome visitor from the past; but at the same time, he loves this little dog so very dearly, his childhood favourite.

“Look at these, Your Highness!” Giancarlo suddenly yells, snapping Max out of his thoughts. “Really fitting, aren’t they? Doesn’t it make you think of something?”

Max turns to see his knight holding three plush animals on his arms: a snake, a fox, and a miniature horse. Max does remember all of them, but none were his favourites. They must have been gifts from his earlier childhood, he has no memory of actually getting them or ever feeling particularly attached to them.

“Umm,” he says, “no, not really.”

“Don’t you remember? The fairytale? A guy talks to a fox, a serpent, and a horse...”

“No, can’t say that rings any bells.”

“Really?” An idiotic grin spreads on Giancarlo’s face, the same one he flashes every time he gets to feel smarter than his young king. “It’s a traditional Northern folktale! Each animal represents one fear that the dude has, and he has to face them one by one. Well, I don’t really remember the details, but it was something like that.” He lifts the tiny horse closer to his face, as if to study it more closely – or to face it, to stay true to his own words, Max assumes. “Was the third one really a horse? I think it was. I guess horses can be scary to some people. They’re big animals and all.”

Max rolls his eyes, truly wishing that Giancarlo would shut up for once and clean up the mess he’s caused in the walk-in closet – or just do anything else and leave Max be, to sort out the sudden, fairly uncomfortable onslaught of memories caused by the discovery of his old stuffed dog toy.

Instead, Giancarlo keeps talking, as he always does.

“If there was a story about my fears, it would probably be... hmm... never eating cannoli ever again... and never going on another date...”

“Some incredible fears you have,” Max comments. “Tells a lot about your psyche.”

“And what are you scared of, Your Highness? What would you face if you met this guy? Nei-i-i-igh.” Giancarlo waves the tiny horse at Max, truthfully not the embodiment of terror by any stretch.

“Me? Well, nothing, really.”

“Come on, now, no need to be shy. You can tell the good old Gianni.”

“I mean it – I have my magic, so there’s no reason for me to be scared of anything.” There’s nothing that Max can think of that he wouldn’t be able to shield himself from with his magic powers, especially his ability to turn invisible. If nothing can catch him or do as much as touch him, what reason would he have to be afraid? If anything, he loves the thrill of almost being caught but disappearing out of sight on the last second. Max prides himself in being bold and resourceful, the master of stealth, and the youngest Genbu-ou with the ability to summon the holy beast of Genbu in the known history of his kingdom.

As long as he has his magic and the golden locket of Genbu around his neck, he cannot think of anything that could cause him fear; and as the king, he can have all the materia he could ever want, so he never needs to worry about running out of cannoli pastries or whatever else.

“Okay then, tough guy,” Giancarlo snorts. “And what’s that you got there?”

Max’s gaze returns to the dog on his arms. It stares back at him with its pitiful button eyes, black and lifeless.

“This used to be my favourite,” he replies, finding the words coming out of his mouth with slight hesitation. “Papa made it for me...”

“Oh? Prince Tarou knows how to sew stuffed animals? Well, I guess that makes sense, since he’s such a talented craftsman – but still... It’s hard to imagine a burly man like him making something like... that thing.” Giancarlo forces down an obvious cackle, raising a hand to his mouth to hide his amusement. “I mean...”

Max knows what he means, the puppy with a hot dog-like physique is a pathetic sight, but he cannot help feeling just a little insulted by Giancarlo laughing at it. This puppy brought him so much comfort during a time of turmoil, and it was specifically made by his father for that very purpose. Tarou most likely stitched it together over a single night all those years ago.

“You mean what?” he challenges the royal knight, his tone arrogant.

“Uh... Well, you know... Oh, never mind.”

* * * * * *

When he was younger, Max had no objections over his sheltered life in the Snow Glory Palace, as it never even occurred to his child’s mind that it could be anything but; and the thought only came to him as he entered the rebellious years of puberty and by the questionable ideas that his whimsical knight planted in his head, the thought that it would be exciting to sneak out of the palace every once in a while and wander around the royal capital out of sight.

Max has always been adored by commoners, as the only son of their beloved (by now former) king, the strong yet beautiful and hauntingly intelligent Mizuhara Judy, the only female Genbu-ou of their lifetime; and as much as Max loves the attention and savours the constant awareness of his status of importance that doesn’t escape anybody in his kingdom, he’s equally entertained by the idea of walking among all these people on a lower social ladder without their knowledge, freely entering spaces where his appearance would normally cause a considerable brouhaha. The complete control over whether he’s perceived or not gives him a great amount of satisfaction.

And, most importantly, his ever-so-predominant mother has no idea about it happening right under her nose. As much as Max loves his parents, like any teenager, he has an innate need to break free and seek independence from them, do as he pleases without their scrutiny, without any adult paying attention to him...

at least sometimes.

How many times has he traversed the narrow streets of the ancient royal capital, heard the snow crunch under his shoes without anyone seeing it’s the young king leaving a trail of footprints on the ground covered in white? And when the snow is quietly falling from the sky, the shield of magic around him reflects his surroundings, camouflaging him from other people’s line of sight, he blends perfectly into the arbitrary dance of the snowflakes in the dark.

Then, sometimes, when he finds a suitable corner or shade or hideout for himself, he plans a delicious little display of seemingly appearing out of nowhere into the spotlight. And all the attention is once again drawn to him.

It’s borderline addicting, that calculated spectacle, the thrill of a surprise and act of rebellion that Max is perfectly aware he’s not allowed to do. That his ice queen of a mother would be absolutely furious if she knew.

Now he’s again walking down a cobblestone street, the stone fence of a cemetery on his right-hand side. There’s a layer of powdery snow on the stone, like the icing of a sugar cake.

A cake, oh, a cake sounds excellent to him; and he’s now across a bridge, and the familiar sight of a cosy little coffee shop greets him some feet away. It has a sign outside, a metallic one, shaped like a kettle that’s hanging above the entrance, the shop’s name written on it in cursive.

Max walks over to one of the shop windows and takes a peek inside, bathes in the golden light coming from the other side of the glass. As expected, nobody pays him any attention, none of the people sitting around the lovely little tables inside see him.

He’s ready to be seen, however, and decides to step inside, greeted by the ring of a bell attached to the coffee shop’s door.

“Good evening!” he says cheerfully upon his entrance, flashing a wide grin to everyone in the shop.

People turn to stare at him. Nobody is smiling back at him.

“Er, good evening,” replies the person working behind the counter. Their voice is polite but wary, they stare at Max like everyone else in the shop, with an expression of wide-eyed confusion.

This is not what Max expected. Where are all the delightful gasps, all the “Oh, Your Highness!” and “It’s the young king!” and “This is such an honour!” – all the surprised smiles and the rush to be the first to shake hands with him? He darts some quizzical glances around the shop, eyebrows raised, but his grin remains.

Maybe he’s come here a few too many times. He should have gone somewhere new instead, not the closest place he could think of.

A bristly feeling that he’s very much not used to suddenly spreads all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes: embarrassment. He’s embarrassed that his magic trick failed, the trick he was so confident in, so proud of.

He needs to get out of here.

And the next moment, he’s walking down a different street, this time in the heart of the city of Resting Palace. The lights here are so bright that they illuminate the black sky and give it a hue of light purple instead, almost a dirty tone, it looks dusty and devours the stars and even the Moon.

He’s walking past numerous people, but nobody turns to look at him. Nobody does as much as grant him a smile of acknowledgment, no faces light up with recognition when he passes by.

He stops to stand in the middle of the street. Someone immediately bumps into him from behind.

“Oh, sorry,” the stranger says and hurries away without looking at him. He doesn’t even have the time to say it was his fault for stopping so abruptly.

Max turns on his heels, lets his eyes wander aimlessly in the scenery. There’s a hotel to his left. There are people everywhere, but none of them are looking his way.

Now another person bumps into him. This is an older man, staggering on his feet and visibly losing his balance for a moment, and he turns to stare at Max with a sullen face.

“Hey, kiddo,” the man groans, “stop blocking the walkway, will ya?”

Max only stares back, not knowing what to say or think. Kiddo? What is this? Why is this person talking to him like this? He’s so dumbfounded by this behaviour that he simply hangs his mouth open without making a sound. Nobody in his entire life has acted this way towards him, and it’s making his blood run cold under his heavy cloak.

On a bewildered whim, he suddenly turns to whoever is passing by his left-hand side on that very moment. “Did you hear how that person talked to me just now?” he asks the passer-by. “How dare he?”

The person he’s talking to casts him a look of utter confusion. He can immediately tell this person doesn’t recognise him, either.

“No, I’m sorry,” the person mumbles hastily and hurries away. Max stares after their disappearing back.

What is happening? What is happening? How could this possibly be happening to him? Now panic is seeping into his heart, he arbitrarily grabs the sleeve of whoever happens to pass by him next.

“Excuse me,” he says breathlessly, “you know who I am, right? Right?”

Another astonished stare, but at least this passer-by is polite. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. Are you perhaps lost?”

“No!” Max’s words now escape as a desperate eruption of discomfort, “I’m the king! The Genbu-ou! Don’t you recognise your king?!”

The stranger’s expression changes slightly – to that of pity, to Max’s horror.

“I’m sorry, boy, I don’t have time to play around with you,” the person says, and the next moment he’s gone.

Max spins around, glancing wildly in every direction, looking for anybody who recognises him. This is the royal capital, isn’t it? It definitely is, he knows the exact street he’s on, but for some reason nobody knows him, he’s only a mile away from the Snow Glory Palace and nobody knows that he’s the king, how could such a bizarre thing ever happen?

“I look like the Genbu-ou, don’t I?” he asks yet another stranger, this time a younger person, a teenager just like him.

The person stops to stare at him, evaluates him with her eyes for a moment, as if she has to think about it first.

“I guess you do,” she finally says, “a little. But Genbu-ousama has spots of black in his hair and skin as clear as snow.”

What? What?

Max drops down to his knees into the snow and now he’s on the riverbank; he hauls his shaking self closer to the aquamarine glow of the water, and he crouches over to look down at his own reflection on the surface.

His hair is yellow like the Sun, bare, the splashes of black brush strokes gone. But his face – his face is covered in something – small dots everywhere, his skin is infested with them, they spread from the centre, the bridge of his nose, in every direction on his skin, he lifts his hands to his face and—

* * *

He opens his eyes. The ceiling of his bedroom is covered in cotton candy clouds of pink and purple, they rotate ever so slowly around the axel of the chandelier in the middle, with stars blinking in and out through the veil.

He rolls over in the four-poster bed that feels like an entire ocean to him. The pillow under his head is wet, it feels gross and he grabs it with two tiny hands, tosses it away as hard as he can and it lands on the edge of the bed. It knocks a couple of his plush toys to the floor.

He can hear voices from behind the bedroom door. It’s Mama and Papa, they are yelling at each other again.

Max rubs his tear-stained eyes and crawls out of bed, wrapping his enormous blanket around him like a cape, he drags it along across the carpet as he makes his way to the door. He stands on tiptoes and opens the door as softly as he can.

He makes his way to the hallway’s railing just in time to see his parents walk into his view downstairs. They’re not yelling anymore but still arguing, in quiet voices now, Max can tell they are spewing arrows of poison at each other even if he can’t make out the words.

He’s staring through the narrow hole in the railing as Papa spots him, it’s probably a subtle sniffle that gives him away up there.

Seconds later, Papa has climbed the stairs and has knelt down to talk to Max in a voice that’s meant to be soothing but is seeping with recently suffocated agitation, and it makes him uneasy.

“Are you having trouble sleeping again, buddy?”

“I don’t want Papa to go away,” Max says, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his orange sleeping gown.

Papa gives him a lopsided smile, pats the top of his head. “I’ll come visit you often, I promise. And – this is only temporary, okay? I will keep talking to Mama, and maybe I’ll be back home in a couple of moons. Papa will bring you lots of presents then, but for starters...”

Now something appears from behind Papa’s back, he’s holding a plush toy dog that has a silly face with a tongue drooping out, its body so long that it nearly matches Max’s height. Papa hands it over to him.

“I made this for you, to help you sleep better. I call it Sleepy, but you can call it whatever you want.”

Max stares down at the dog’s face. It has plain black buttons for eyes, and a third one for a nose.

He presses his own little nose against the button, immediately smearing the dog in the snot and tears of a six-year-old.

“Take me with you, Papa,” he says, the words muffled against the dog’s snout. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“You won’t be alone, Max, Mama will be here.”

“She’s always working, she never pays attention to me.”

“That’s not true...”

“I don’t want to be alone, Papa.”

* * *

He opens his eyes. The ceiling of his bedroom is velvet blue, with the silver sickle of a crescent Moon glowing faintly in the night’s silence.

His heart is beating in an anxious rhythm inside his chest. He quickly sits up in the bed, driven by the panic of the lingering terror of his nightmare that makes his fingertips tingle and his stomach turn, and he gasps for air.

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

The momentary urge to rush to his feet, to check that he actually is who he’s supposed to be in the mirror, recedes quickly upon the realisation that he’s in his own bed, in the royal palace, exactly where he should be. He’s covered in sweat, the blankets feel uncomfortably sticky against his skin, he tosses them aside.

Then he notices three shapes in the darkness, sitting at the end of his bed. A row of three plush animals is staring at him from a distance.

A fox, a serpent, and a horse.

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 11: Archduke Silly Bot

I built a new Mess Hall and Accessory Shop, but before I could play with them, my castle was attacked! By spooky ghost men from the Astral Plane I mean, I summoned them, but still, the castle is in danger. Fifteen enemies showed up to try and seize the fort. Lilith was supposed to help me fight, but just stayed in her pond and did nothing. Dumb fish.

The invaders were tough, but focused more on smashing stuff than killing my Units. Unfortunately, there was a casualty. Kenshi, our valiant POW who we force to serve as cannon fodder, was slain in battle. I mean, not really, because I’m playing Casual mode. Still, I renamed the castle Fort Kenshi in his honor.

The invasion gave me the points needed to build two new structures: the Rod Shop and the Smithy. The Mess Hall can be used to slightly boost unit stats for one battle. The Rod Shop can be used to buy various consumable items. Smithy can be used to reforge Weapons; for instance, I gave Kenshi a new bronze club called Kenshi’s Whacker. The Accessory shop can be used to buy and equip fun accessories, like the bath towel that is all Kenshi is allowed to wear.

Support: Jakob/Mozu

C: Jakob finds Mozu crying, because she had a nightmare about the death of her family, and comforts her.

B: Jakob tells Mozu that she is fortunate to have had something to lose; he explains his abusive childhood that ended with him being sold into servitude of the royal family and tells Mozu to hold onto her memories of her village.

A: Mozu begins training so she can be strong enough to protect everyone and thanks Jakob for looking out for her.

S: Jakob proposes to Mozu, asking her to help him create memories worth cherishing.

Review: This one was short, but good. It could have very easily just been a throwaway conversation about Jakob’s fanciness contrasting Mozu’s lack of sophistication. Instead, it was a genuinely touching conversation that expanded both characters and made me love Jakob even more.

Support: Orochi/Saizo

C: Orochi tells Saizo to stop being mean, because it’s ruining his reputation with the ladies, and threatens to take matters into her own hands.

B: Orochi reveals that when they first met, when Saizo was a child and she was...whatever age she was, she predicted misfortune in his future, which scared Saizo so much he wet his pants. She then reveals that she’s told everyone. Saizo runs away to salvage his reputation.

A: Saizo comes back, furious. Apparently, Orochi lied about telling everyone and Saizo, in his attempts to explain that he only peed his pants because he was a child, ended up spreading the story for her.

S: Saizo has turned over a new leaf and is trying to be nicer thanks to Orochi’s mind games. Orochi confesses that, when she fortolled misfortune in Saizo’s future, she must have actually been talking about his father. Because, as we all know, Saizo has not suffered any misfortune in his life. Also they get married.

Review: This one was decent. Saizo ignoring Orochi’s threats at first then ruining everything in his struggle to fix things is amusing, and the duo have better chemistry than most couples in this game.

Support: Azura/Corrin (Birthright)

Notice the Birthright parenthetical. Corrin and Azura, the main duo, actually have different conversations in different routes, which is neat.

C: Corrin and Azura take a walk together. Azura compares the nice day to Castle Shirasagi. She then apologizes for bringing up her childhood, which she feels belonged to Corrin.

B: Azura asks Corrin about her childhood and Corrin explains both the forced isolation and the constant companionship from Elise and the servants. Corrin actually says she misses the Northern Fortress.

A: Corrin and Azura reflect on their different opinions of Nohr: Azura’s feelings of it being the evil she escaped and Corrin’s of it being a home she misses. They discuss the fact that no place is truly good or bad, something the game’s writers needed to be reminded of, and vow to bring peace.

S: Corrin states that his good memories of Nohr all stem from kind people and vows to be that kind of person for her. The duo exchange some insanely on the nose promises about being fine in a dark pit if they’re together and their fates being intertwined. Now, this may feel like incest because they share parents and siblings, but I actually think this one is okay? As long as there isn’t some late game twist that makes them cousins or something, this seems good.

Review: Overall, a fairly good conversation. Corrin’s feelings on Nohr are more nuanced than this game normally is and the idea that Nohr isn’t evil because of the people is a good sentiment.

Support: Setsuna/Subaki

C: Subaki and Setsuna are assigned to train new recruits together. The new recruit is Kenshi, I have decided. Subaki, worried that Setsuna will be Setsuna and mess everything up, does everything himself.

B: Setsuna just wanders off in the middle of training new recruits and Subaki tries to help her be a better leader.

A: Setsuna attempts to resign from teaching, but Subaki tells her that her wandering off actually helped the recruits because she’s observant, I guess. Setsuna does not retire from teaching.

S: Setsuna tells Subaki that she likes him then wanders off because she’s done talking. Subaki chases after her and proposes.

Review: This one was mediocre. Setsuna is always fun, but this support conversation lacked a good conflict and was resolved in a dumb way. Setsuna wandering off in the middle of a confession is fun, but the relationship wasn’t built up at all.

Birthright Chapter 9: Land of Gods

The gang head to Izumo, a neutral kingdom south of Hoshido. The guards, recognizing Azura, let the party in. Corrin asks about the missing princes and is told no battle happened near Izumo. No war in Ba Sing Se and all that jazz. Archduke Izana approaches them, looking like a wise and calm leader. Then he talks and they realize that he’s a silly boy.

They ask him about the battle on the border of Izumo and he tells them he knows nothing about it. Izana invites the gang to rest and be treated by his healers. He also invites Corrin and Sakura to go to some special spa healing in his deep relaxation chamber which is absolutely not suspicious.

The deep relaxation chamber is an execution chamber. Nohrian soldiers march in to kill Corrin and Izana reveals that he is actually a Nohrian mage named Zola. His voice sounds like Gollum and he has this weird jester hat. I cannot wait for the part of the game where we kill him.

Right before Corrin is executed, half of the Nohrian soldiers attack the other half. It’s revealed the soldiers are actually our soldiers in disguise. Where they got the Nohrian costumes, I do not know. Maybe they looted them from some corpses? Also, how did they know this was happening? And how did they seamlessly blend into the Nohrian army? I have many questions.

Hinoka explains that she knew Zola wasn’t the real Izana because no royal would ever act like such a silly boy, because she has never read any history textbook. The battle begins.

Something I haven’t mentioned yet that I want to mention: if an enemy has a super effective weapon, a red balloon with an exclamation mark appears above them as you move your unit. Nice touch.

On turn two, two new characters march into battle: a Samurai named Hinata and a Spear Fighter named Oboro. The two of them are looking for Takumi. The two bicker. Hinata is an idiot and is thirsty for Takumi. Oboro fantasizes about killing all of the Nohrian scum and Hinata tells her to chill out. These two idiots are Takumi’s retainers. Corrin goes up to the duo and recruits them.

Hinata

A samurai and one of Takumi’s retainers. His personal skill, Triple Threat, hurts enemies who lower him below half health. His design is fine, I guess. I think they’re going for a meathead thing from his introduction and his scars and muscles, but he looks way too young. Personality wise, he seems to be kinda dumb, but not enough to be funny.

Oboro

A spear fighter who is really goddamn thirsty for Takumi and is also really racist. Her unit description is: Loves fashion, hates Nohr. Her personal skill makes her do extra damage to Nohrians, which is useful because we are at war with Nohr. Fates has a bad tendency of reducing characters to a single character trait and we’ve already been shown three traits for Oboro, which I assume will dominate every line she ever says. Seriously, we’ve known her for a minute and she’s said Nohrian Scum a dozen times.

This map was good. It was a standard fighting enemies in a castle map; nothing special, but then again it didn’t need to be special. After the battle, Zola says that he’d rather die than tell Corrin anything. He then throws a smokescreen and runs away, only to be attacked by Leo.

Leo says he’s going to kill Zola for being a disgrace to Nohr and Corrin says, no, don’t do that, don’t hurt another Nohrian. Except, Corrin has killed dozens of Nohrians at this point. Leo yells at Corrin for being a traitor and gives her Zola to keep as a pet. Corrin reflects on how Leo has gotten stronger, but also become more cruel, since her betrayal of Nohr.

The gang meets the real Izana. Yeah he’s every bit as weird and wacky as Zola was. He tells the gang about hearing that the princes were near the bottomless canyon and reads Corrin’s fortune. He sings the next verse of Ocean’s Grey Waves, implying that this song is genuinely a prophecy about this game.

In the white light, a hand reaches through

A double-edged blade cuts your heart in two

Waking dreams fade away,

Embrace the brand-new day

So, let’s see. First off, a lot of imagery about light, which is Hoshido’s aesthetic. Not sure what verse one means, but verse two is some heavy foreshadowing for Chapter 26. I’ll talk about it more then. Verses three and four are about Corrin leaving the fake life in Nohr and returning to Hoshido. Probably.

Azana also predicts that the princes are both alright, so the gang heads off to find them. That night, Azura talks to Corrin about the prophecy, saying that it is the lyrics to a song she was taught as a child that now seems to be about Corrin.

[paintedpoems]

Black Water Arc: War of The Water Tyrants.

“Wind’s ontology refuses to take separateness as an inherent feature of the world. […] And this is, in part, wind’s value—it has an existential precondition that appears only in the context of contact. Wind is touching, mutual, moving.”

 — Cymene Howe, Ecologics

 It seems overly contradictory to start a piece about water tyrants with a quote about the wind, doesn’t it? In actuality, readers of the novel would find this comparison immensely appropriate. This is because although black water arc is about the head-to-head battle between Shi Wudu and Hexuan; the center point, the cause and the final effect of this whole arc is Shi Qingxuan. 

 “Existential Precondition” or fate. It is ironic that wind is described as such because that is essentially Shi Qingxuan’s inherent problem and “Refuses to take separateness” was Shi Qingxuan’s ultimate solution. 

Short Summary:

The infant Shi Qingxuan has a curse placed upon them. The curse prophesied a life full of unfathomable hardships for Shi Qingxuan and that is now their fate. Their brother, Shi Wudu, who is extremely protective of his sibling, is bent on saving Shi Qingxuan from this curse. Shi Wudu being naturally gifted eventually ascends as a god, he uses his position in the heavenly realm to then help his younger brother ascend to godhood as well. It is eventually revealed that Shi Wudu secretly changed his sibling’s cursed fate with another person of similar name and better fortune. 

The person in question is Hexuan. Hexuan was fated to live a prosperous life and ascend as a god but instead lives with tragedy latched onto him. He goes through poverty, false accusations, abuse and all of his loved ones die under heartbreaking circumstances. Hexuan eventually dies and returns as a vengeful ghost bent on punishing the one that had wronged him. Hexuan wants justice and since the gods refuse to pass judgement, he decides to come to a verdict on his own. In short, that is what black water arc is about: Judgement. In a grey situation, where exactly do we place the blame?

 On Morality:

Shi wudu verses Hexuan, ‘The war of the water tyrants’ dilemma, is one of the most mind-blowingly well thought out cases of grey morality in literature. It is no secret that the reductiveness of morals into “good” and “evil” categories is one of mxtx's main themes often explored heavily in her previous works. The author rejects the absolute extremes in character viewpoints, both in her protagonists and antagonists and applies the concept in varying thoughts including race and politics. 

The difference in this arc however, is the projection of the audience’s principles into each character. That is, between Hexuan and Shi wudu, she never specifies who the antagonist is. It is left to the readers to explore, reflect and come to an understanding on what exactly it is like to venture into the grey zone. Neither of the two were selfishly driven, none of their initial intentions stemmed from hatred. It was familial love that drove them to hurt one another, familial love that blindsided them. In their quest to protect and to avenge their family, innocent family members lost their lives or were hurt; on both their parts. This is where the definitions of victims and perpetrators get skewed. It is so skewed in fact, that the only valid testimony left is the reader's sentiments for the characters and their own self-principles. 

 From Shi wudu’s “Everything I have today, I fought for myself... I will change fate that I do not possess. My fate is up to me and not the heavens” is the will to fight predestination. Verses, Hexuan’s “What right did he have to suck another’s blood, trample another’s bones to reach the skies, and still maintain a peace of mind. Enjoying all such luxuries without any sense of burden?” the victim of the change in predestination. Two strong, commendable principles, founded by righteousness but blinded by arrogance and hatred. Later, to maintain a peace of mind, Hexuan tramples on Shi Qingxuan and in the process of fighting for oneself, Shi Wudu ultimately changes Shi Qingxuan’s fate for the worse. 

We even witness the Shi Wudu’s blindness take a terrible turn at the very end when he attempts to strangle his own sibling that he fought to protect all this time. His belief that Shi Qingxuan will not be safe without him, his lack of trust in his own brother, is part of his arrogance. 

In return, we see Hexuan’s blind hatred falter for a moment when he keeps giving Shi Qingxuan chances for safety. At the finish line, we see both the water tyrant’s own morals and goals swap. This change in attitude towards Shi Qingxuan’s future is another outstanding ploy by mxtx because expectation of a good outcome is the core of morality. In the end, the readers simply wish for a good ending for Shi Qingxuan and when Shi Wudu decides he is going to die together with his sibling, it confuses the audience. There is a shock factor added, you perceive Shi Wudu as the protector and he pulls the safety rug from under your feet. Instant shock and confusion violating the purity of the absolute good, so the reader’s immediate reaction is to look for safety in the not-absolute evil i.e. Hexuan. However, when Hexuan does not provide that complete comfort at the end, only slightly appeasing everyone, it stings. Reinforcing that cognitive blend of mixed morality into reader’s beliefs, further skewing the curve. 

 It is this kind of writing that creates a split in the fandom, not in a bad way, but more in terms of sparking a conversation about where people’s individual morality lies. Each character has their past, their reasons, their flaws and goodness and it gives the audience something to root for. In addition, the rooting is not a hundred percent good versus bad, because each character’s choices are equally flawed. The fandom selects a side but with one foot still lingering on the other territory. Siding with Hexuan but understanding the reasoning behind Shi Wudu’s actions or siding with Shi Wudu but sympathizing with Hexuan’s pain and loss. The uneven split is how you know the characterization was not mediocre.

In regards to characterizations, Shi wudu and Hexuan are too similar. Their personalities, personas, auras; the proud, stubborn, intelligent water tyrants. We speak of these likenesses because Shi Qingxuan lives through this battle and will never be able to unsee the similarities. Hexuan remains, a walking reminder of Shi Wudu. This feels deliberately done as the final stab to the readers, so that Shi Qingxuan and Hexuan’s relationship remains unmendable. 

 Pure Point of Views, Shi Qingxuan and Xielian: 

Wind is invisible, its apprehension comes from its exposure to objects or in this case other people. Shi Qingxuan is air, pure, lively and touching, forming a comforting contact with everyone they meet. The kind of character that brings about a reader’s protective instinct, in a sense, if anything were to happen to them it will infuriate and break the audience. A classic plot device to draw emotions from the readers. Why must this innocent child suffer for the sins of their brother? But, mxtx urges us to rethink this by wondering the same for Hexuan’s family. They were innocent too, why did they have to die on this path? Why is Shi Qingxuan’s innocence valid and not theirs? The audience feels for Shi Qingxuan because we have become familiarised with them. Shi Qingxuan has now made that connection with the readers, the wind has touched their hearts versus only receiving glimpses of what was Hexuan’s previous family. The effect is lacking that familial impact, that bond. Classic writing schemes, beautiful.

At the end of the clashing of the waves, the person left with the permanent scars was the blameless Shi Qingxuan. Their life was molded and directed into this final point without their control, as if caught in a sea storm. The one that paid for this feud was ultimately Shi Qingxuan, the person neither of the other two wanted to hurt.

 Another classic writing device I want to finally explore and praise is the use of the narrator to throw the audience off the culprit’s scent. The mystery of Black Water Arc was quite simple actually, mxtx layed out all the clues and hints for the audience out in the open. Like Xielian himself states later, the simplest answer was always visible, he was just overthinking things. And if Xielian, the semi-narrator, overthinks then the audience will overthink. Xielian, an intelligent and the fundamentally good person, exudes a trusting aura. The audience cannot help but trust his judgement and perception of things, it is a credibility built from our experience with his mystery solving abilities in the previous arcs. 

The reason why the black water reveal was so impactful and shocking was because of Xielian. The semi narrator continuously made excuses for MingYi, his subconscious trusted him, even if he had his suspicions. He didn’t enforce them strongly enough, leaving the audience to believe Xielian was merely exploring a wrong option for the sake of eliminating possible culprits. The audience was not viewing MingYi as a culprit, rather they were waiting for Xielian to come to the inevitable conclusion of his innocence. An item to quickly cross off the checklist so that they could finally pursue the “real” culprit.

MingYi couldn’t use the Earth Master Shovel? Xielian makes the excuse for him before the audience can even dive deeper on that thought. HuaCheng draws suspicion back to MingYi and Xielian immediately doubts his most trusted confidant’s assumptions. Xielian trusts MingYi, so we trust MingYi against our better judgement. When the narrator has left no room for mistrust, how can the audience hold their stance? 

The proficient push and pull charade played out by Hexuan and Huacheng is another impactful factor that took part in diverting Xielian’s mistrust. The nefarious roles they played policing and suspecting each other, from Hexuan’s “don’t you have spies in the heavens?” to Huacheng’s lie detecting dice game. The solid plan of the two suspicious individuals doing the dirty work for Xielian, did not allow Xielian to mold his thoughts in his own way. He was led astray whilst the other two worked together to draw trust onto each other. So, the audience did not have room for doubt either. 

In addition to all of that, the most fundamental foundation to Xielian’s trust for MingYi was that fact that he was the one who saved him from Huacheng in the first place. Simply because of the ghost city arc, we already place Huacheng and Hexuan on opposing sides rather than assuming they were accomplices. Furthermore, because of Xielian’s trust in Huacheng’s intellect and his belief of Huacheng’s prejudice against MingYi; he would constantly monitor Huacheng’s reaction to his own deductions. Unfortunately, Huacheng was a terrible basis point and by the time Xielian realizes it, it is too late. An ingenious tactic. 

The author led us off track in such a brilliant manner, I had to sing praises at the end of this piece. The way our mind perceives people or situations, is the essence of our moral compass. The mind is subjective, so subjectivity in judgement is ever present, ever grey.

Notes:

This unforgettable and excruciatingly tragic arc is an important turning point in the book and we are all aware that it does not need a special summary. However, I wanted to start with a bit of a reintroduction, just to stay true to the essay tradition. Is this an essay? A think-piece? An analysis? I would not dare shame any of those academic classifications by claiming to be writing as such. 

I hope this was enjoyable to read.

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[lordofcrowns]

DRUNKEN SAILOR  //  ARCHIVE LINK

Despite the encroaching night, the docks were still bustling. Burly workers milled about, sailors and merchants alike going about the last of their business for the day, the latter hawking wares and seeking to crack open the coin purse of any passerby they could convince.

This far north, the leaves on the trees grew a medley of color ranging from rich indigo to bright cobalt blue, now dusted with a sugary coating of peach and amber sunset lighting. Speckled between the deep blues were flames of orange, brightly burning street lamps that marked the way up the cobblestone steps from the docks into town. Thick clouds hung over the shore, tinged the same colors as the sunset, save one heavy grey cloud that threatened rain. A watercolor painting, all reflected in the mirror of the sea.

On a cliff overlooking the scene was the local inn and tavern. Oil lanterns and tattered banners swayed in the wind, beckoning travelers and locals alike inside, out of the biting cold. On an icy northern night like this, few could resist the comforts of a warm hearth, strong drinks, and good company.

[ MUSIC // AMBIANCE // ARCHIVE LINK ]

Unsurprisingly. The tavern itself was seething with activity. After all, any who were willing to keep the peace were welcome here. Many even hung their weapon belts at the door - trusting the town guard to see to their safety. Red cherry wood was stained purple, drenched in the shade of the cool evening. The building was old - a big, open space with two floors and several hearths, built of stout timber and set upon a sturdy stone foundation. Rugs covered the stone floor, thick curtains kept the draft out, and soft furs were draped over furniture.

In the center of the main hall, down from the ceiling grew one of the local trees, a great spectacle of vibrant blue foliage and inky black branches - limbs that stretched down and had been tied and trained to hold the many, many lanterns flickering brilliant gold and crimson through old, smoke-stained glass, that together made a chandelier. A blend of different tongues, all overlapping and fighting to be heard over one another, caused a din that made it difficult for the innkeeper and her customer to hear themselves.

“Iyrngybet… what you’ve given me here is not even half of what you owe.”

“Aye… that is the right of it, lass.”

The burly Roegadyn man awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and avoided the eyes of the innkeeper. The woman was smaller than him practically by half, but her no-nonsense air had him shuffling his feet and pouting like a schoolboy being disciplined. She sighed at him with rather evident disappointment, but did not seem angry.

“Well… I have horses that need grooming and stalls that need cleaning.”

The Hyur woman hardly had the time to finish her sentence before the brawny man was wrapping his arms around her and picking her up in a tight bearhug. Luckily for her, the rafters in the ceiling were high, so she did not risk hitting her head despite the way he twirled her around.

“Oh, yer a gem, Maude! A right gem!”

“Yes, yes…” Maude did her best to sound exasperated, but the laughter in her voice was palpable. “Put me down, please.”

“O’course.”

He very gingerly set her down, and the freckled woman brushed her skirt free of the many wrinkles the unexpected hug had put in it.

“I will expect you bright and early tomorrow morning, sixth bell. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly!”

Maude, the innkeeper and tavern’s owner, felt a good deal older than her twenty and six summers. A hyur woman with a sharp wit but a kind heart, she opened the tavern and inn to any who would keep the peace, and who agreed to comply with the local guard who watched her door.

Her dress was a layering of mismatched petticoats, cream linen, and an old, many times mended hempen bodice, laced haphazardly with fraying jute cord. Her auburn brown hair was tied back in a long, loosely plaited braid that reached her hip in total length, wrapped about her temple and tying underneath her long hair was the one fine thing she owned - a vivid blue silk sash.

As the tavern’s sole proprietor and the only staff she could truly afford, Maude had her hands full filling and refilling drinks, fetching dried meat and loaves of bread, and assigning rooms to the sailors and travellers as they came and went.

She didn’t mind, though - she liked to be kept busy, and in her handful of years living here, she had grown to love the town, the tavern, and its people. The majority of her customers were regulars she knew by name, the other sailors she vaguely recognized when they passed through during certain months.

There was, however, one figure present this evening she did not recognize at all. He was mild-mannered, unobtrusive - he spoke to the guard before entering and even agreed to leave his sword belt at the door. And much to her delight he paid his coin without hesitation, excuse, or flimsy attempts at bartering. He was garbed in a dusty matte black coat, layered over a simple leather doublet and creamy, low-cut white shirt. Brass buttons had been worn down over time, seams stretched and quilted lapels scuffed from wear and tear. He had introduced himself as a sailor, and he had the look of one. He had thick brown hair and one piercing, gold eye, the left - the right was covered with a leather patch, a relatively common feature amongst sailors. His skin was tan, the corners of his eyes wrinkled, but only in a way that really showed when he smiled.

There was little unnatural or unusual about the Miqo’te, save perhaps a certain lazy grace with which he moved and carried himself. As the evening carried on, she found herself paying him more attention. There was a brooding expression on his face, an almost alarming focus that furrowed his brow and tightened his jaw, that with a suave charm was instantaneously covered once he felt eyes on him. It took him no time at all to warm up to the locals and join in with the drinking.

He held aloft a full tankard, by nature of his height towering over most of his newfound company. He had a gruff, guttural, but still somehow charming singing voice.

“Hey ho, to the bottle I go! To heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall, and wind may blow, But there’ll still be many malms to go! Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain, And the river that runs from hill to plain. Better than rain or a rippling brook, Is a mug of beer that brings me luck!”

This unfamiliar sailor had enough of a boom behind his voice that it filled the room right up to the brim, but even it threatened to be drowned out by the laughter and chorus of voices that joined in alongside it to sing the familiar diddy. A beat rose up, a mix of boots stomping against the wood and fists slamming into tabletops. Maude was sure she had never seen the tavern so full, or so lively.

Iyrngybet was perhaps the loudest and rowdiest of all those drinking, though despite this he always handled himself well. He was the friendly, rambunctious sort - even without the drink. And much to Maude’s relief, he and this new stranger seemed to get on rather well. They were clapping each other on the back and toasting tankards together between verses. The last note of the stranger’s song faded out to thunderous applause and hollers. The Roegadyn wasted no time then in striking up a new rhythm and bellowing out the words to a new ditty. Another popular song, an age old warning about pirates and thieves, the ones that come for naughty children in the night.

“My mother said he listens  My father’s seen him walk  Stay in bed, asleep at home  Be spared the slaver’s lock.

 With whip he’ll bind your ankles  Blind your eyes with sash and cord  And if you cry out in the night  Alone he’ll take you aboard.

 The slaver snake, he waits  With coiled whip and black clad hand  Beware the viper's bite, my son  Fear Captain Stacy's brand!”

Iyrngybet drained the last of his tankard amidst many cheers, and resounding boos for the pirate in question that the song had referenced.

“Haven’t heard that one since I was a wee child, eh?” A patron said to her as she refilled their proffered glass.

“Indeed,” She replied. “I fear much to his dismay, dear Iyrngybet ages himself by nature of his song choice.”

Though her feet ached and she longed nothing more than to sit down and enjoy a moment’s quiet, Maude couldn’t help but smile and readied herself to pour another round of drinks. At the very least, this stranger and his charm with the crowd made for good beverage sales.

Still, his charm left her with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She brushed it off as the excitement of having a new face in town, for after all - it was a rather rare occasion.

Down on the docks, five score sailors were disembarking an unmarked sloop, leaving behind the now pitch black sea and heading up the hill towards the wintery blue forest, and the tavern itself. They moved swiftly and silently, light footsteps barely seeming to touch the ground they tread upon. They wore matching colors of black and gold, and not a word was spoken between them. Hand signals were made, and packs began to peel away, moving through the town and into the woods. All the while, that grey cloud still lingering in the midnight sky grew darker and darker. A storm was imminent.

“Hail to you, good ser. If you seek accommodations for the evening, I have beds for rent.”

The Miqo’te leaned gently from one side to another, fighting to keep himself even slightly upright, before simply nodding. Maude bowed her head and made every effort not to smile at his drunkenness, lest the stranger take offense.

“A room is five-hundred gil. Have you the coin to pay?”

Before she’d even fully finished her question, the Miqo’te had set down a small leather satchel of gil on the bar. Maude pulled the coin purse towards her, counting out what was owed to her swiftly and returning the excess, as well as the pouch, to their owner. She tucked the gil away in the safe kept beneath the counter before straightening up and tossing her scarf back over her shoulder.

“Right this way, then…” Maude used a small key she kept on her person to open a wide, flat drawer beneath her bar, within which were nestled many similarly shaped keys. She selected one and extended her arm.

“I will show you to your room.”

The man simply nodded, pushing himself back a pace from the bar before falling in behind her. He wobbled precariously now and then, after a time deigning to reach his right hand out to trace fingertips along the wall in an effort to steady himself. They ascended a flight of steps, walking at a leisurely pace around the upper level of the atrium of the tavern, where the Miqo’te had to transition to leaning against the wooden banister to keep himself upright. Maude walked slowly, leaving her guest ample room to catch up without rushing him, and meanwhile glanced down at the still drinking and dining patrons below. Laughter still bellowed upwards towards the rafters now and again, but a few - like the Miqo’te she now escorted - were content to begin finding their ways to their beds.

Along the balcony of the atrium they walked, to the far side of the brilliant chandelier and blossoming tree branches, and down a hallway that provided some small shelter from the loud volume of the guests, was the available room she’d chosen for him. She unlocked it and pushed the door open, stepping back and meaning to hand off his key to him. But when she turned around, she could only stifle a small chuckle. He had stopped perhaps five fulms behind her, and was now leaning with his elbow against the wall, head nestled into the crook of his arm. She cleared her throat, swallowing her laughter before addressing him.

“Ser...?”

Maude’s voice trailed off as she noticed he seemed to be very quietly humming yet another drunken ditty. His mumblings could hardly be considered lyrics, but she recognized the tune as one of the ones sung earlier in the night.

“My mother said he listens  My father’s seen him walk  Stay in bed, asleep at home  Be spared the slaver’s lock…”

She smiled to herself, thumbing over the key in her hands and simply hoping the man would find himself just enough to make it to the room he’d paid for. His voice replying to her snapped her out of thoughts.

“How old were you the first time you heard that song?”

“Hm? Why, I suppose I was just a girl when I-”

Maude glanced back up towards him, eyeing him curiously. For perhaps the first time the entire night, she stopped and truly looked at this sailor. She noted the cleverness present in his face. The odd, unsettlingly crooked smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, the dangerous alertness visible in the one, glittering eye she was permitted to see. The way his body wasn’t shaking or swaying at all anymore.

He had been deceiving her all night. This man was not drunk at all.

Now that she was up close to him, Maude couldn’t help but squint at the way she could swear his entire presence seemed to flicker. His thick brown hair seemed to catch the lantern light in bright flashes of turquoise blue, the dusty brass buttons of his coat giving way to brilliant gold.

The longer she studied him, the colder Maude felt. But he just smiled at her, slowly straightening up to his full height. Having regained control of her tongue enough to stop staring dumbfounded, she took a respectful step back, once more offering his room’s key to him. It took every ounce of strength and self control not to stutter or give away her discomfort. She didn’t know who she was dealing with, or why he would lie, but it made fear grip her cold. She knew to be careful.

“You make strange conversation, ser. I think bed rest would do you well. If you need anything else, you need only ask.”

“Or perhaps you are like me.” Though she attempted to change the subject, the Miqo'te overrode her. “Placing little stock in such fanciful tales.”

He spoke slowly and softly, but this did little to dissipate the Hyur’s nerves. She realized immediately that this man had her backed into a corner, and out of the line of sight of the other patrons for the moment.

“Pray, rest easy.”

His voice was like a purr. A quiet rumble deep in his chest. It was as if he’d read her mind, or perhaps he had seen her eyes flick momentarily over towards the hallway behind him.

“I do hope you will forgive my belated introduction.”

Something translucent like scales seemed to ripple and fall from his body as the glamour dissipated. Brown hair instead shone a seafoam teal, worn long save for the short buzz on either side of his temples. The dusty, worn-in coat was now shed for a clean, elegant looking black and gold uniform. There was not a single seam or wrinkle out of place. Polished gold at his shoulders emblazoned with a calligraphic “S” denoted his rank. His hands were covered with a pair of oily black gloves, and adorned with gold rings. One such hand went behind his back, the other in front of him, as he gifted the innkeeper a formal bow, still smiling.

“Captain Cyril Stacy, a pleasure to meet you.”

The Hyur caught her breath a moment, eyes tracing over the man now before her, unsure if they could even be called the same person. As was quite common among some Miqo’te, his breeding was written practically in ink along every sharp line of his face, in his imposing silhouette and broad shoulders. And, despite his casual, perhaps almost jovial demeanor and the superficial camaraderie among the tavern folk earlier in the night, his voice had the immistakible, careless authority of someone wholly accustomed to being obeyed.

She knew the name, she knew the song, she knew the stories. She knew exactly who this man claimed to be.

“Are you mad, or brilliant?” She whispered. “Drawing attention to yourself all evening like that, my good Captain…” She spat his title at him with contempt crisp against her teeth, a mixture of mockery and disbelief. “Among my patrons there is no shortage of bounty hunters. Adventurers who would be eager to claim the prize you proclaim yourself to be.”

Cyril merely chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“You think me more reckless than I am, love. Your patrons will hardly remember the evening.”

Confusion was plastered all over the innkeeper’s face until she took a few moments to listen carefully. It was quiet. The laughter, the chatter, it had all died down.

“What have you done?”

Worry boiled over into panic and Maude picked up her skirts, shuffling sheepishly a few steps aside from Cyril. When he made no move to stop her or block her path, she darted back towards the atrium. She grabbed the banister and leaned over worriedly, taking in the disturbingly quiet scene before her.

A lucky few had made it to the comfortable, fur-draped chairs that surrounded the crackling hearth. The others dozed at their tables, slumped over with heads resting atop folded arms or even one another. A few of the most unfortunate simply collapsed, sprawled out over the bearskin rugs or slumped down in a heap against the wall. It was as if they had been put under a spell, none of them so much as twitched or shuffled in their sleep.

Heavy, slow footsteps behind her alerted her of Cyril’s approach, followed closely by his still quiet voice. As he stalked up behind her, he pulled a kerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the sides of his neck clean of the rum he’d splashed on it to make him smell intoxicated.

“Rest assured, they are not harmed.”

These were her patrons, her people - when they came to her establishment they were in her charge. That this man had so easily weaseled his way in and drugged every drinker was a thought both terrifying and humiliating. Anger boiled in her blood, and without thinking she whirled around and pulled her hand back to strike the man in the face. In the middle of her motion she seemed to realize what she was doing was unwise, and in that split second of hesitation, Cyril reached up and grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to slap him. He still spoke softly, even as he threatened nonchalantly to crush her arm in his grip.

“You ought to be thanking me. I may very well have rescued your floundering business from the softness of your heart.”

Maude grimaced and attempted to tug her arm away, to no avail.

“I beg your pardon?”

In one fluid movement, Cyril spun her around - holding her arm behind her as he marched her back over towards the railing. He reached his arm about her and rested his free hand on the banister while he directed her attention to the dozing patrons.

“Look at the sorry lot of them. Drunkards and beggars. Doubtless, some wretched sod lies in a heap behind the building, threatening to drown in his own vomit. Those that can stand up leave the next morning without paying what they owe, to return again the following eve. Such people are worthless if left to their own devices.”

Maude’s bright eyes darted from one sleeping form to another - Iyrngybet, Damien, Eliza, Ihri'a, Bardi, Oshonne… She knew them by name! They were her townspeople, her friends, her family. And to hells with it if they couldn’t always pay in coin! They paid her back in other ways, helping her tend to the establishment. To her, that was more than enough.

“Rapacious man! Does your black heart beat only for coin? A man drowned in the drink is more honorable than you’ll ever be.”

“Oh, my darling. You wound me with such harsh words. I am not an evil man. You should know...”

As he spoke, his hand left the bannister, gloved fingers sliding up to caress and curl about Maude’s bare neck.

“I do this for you.”

Maude snarled and wrestled herself free of the Miqo’te, scrambling a few paces away from him and whipping around to face him. Again, he made no move to hold her in his grasp, nor to stop her from wriggling free. And even as she glared at him with fire in her eyes, she was well aware her efforts to free herself of his hold were only successful because he allowed them to be.

“Wh-what in the world? How dare you insinuate I would do business with your kind!”

“Abandoned by an unfaithful husband.” The pirate began. “A beloved sister, dead so young.” He took a step towards her as he spoke. “Aging and ailing parents, to whom you send every small amount of coin you can spare…”

Maude’s heart was racing. How much did this man know? So beside herself with shock was she, the innkeeper didn’t realize she’d been shuffling away from him until her back hit the wall. He brushed her hair back behind her shoulders, tracing his hand along her cheek to her chin and tilting her face up to look at him.

“And a kind heart. One far too soft for business. But you need not worry any longer. I will look after you.”

He smiled softly at Maude, keeping his one eye on her as he brought his other hand to his ear just long enough to tap the receiver of his linkpearl.

“Move in.”

There was a bright blue flash of light and almost instantaneously a resounding boom as what was surely lightning split the sky above the tavern. The door to the tavern flung back on its hinges, the guard that should have been watching it absent from his post, as uniformed sailors filed into the building. Maude yelped and shrunk back in surprise. Through the glass windows she could vaguely make out the silhouette of a massive airship, shrouded in a thick, unnatural fog that it seemed to use as a cover, teetering precariously close to the cliff.

And at the sixth bell of the next morning, Iyrngybet - like so many others - was nowhere to be found.

[gatecoeur]

tagged as: v;the jensaarai bounty hunter

Arrie Gâtecœur of Ealor was more or less born into The Imperial Era - she doesn’t really remember a galaxy before the First Galactic Empire. She doesn’t remember a galaxy before Order 66 was executed. In fact, Arrie had come to believe the Jedi had been nothing but mythical warriors of an era long gone, despite the fact that her birth occurred just before the First Battle of Geonosis.

Things were relatively peaceful on the Gâtecœur family's corner of the temperate planet. Learning how to hunt, track, and live off the land at an early age, Arrie and her family made what they could trading with local farmers. That all changed when a group of pirate slavers suddenly attacked them, their neighbours and their homes. They had heard of these horrific raids, but never had they thought that the pirates would seek them out - they were simple folks. Why would pirates want anything from them?

Arrie got separated from her family, and was thus captured at the young age of 12. She was sold off to a research facility in the Parmic system, where the scientists there began experimenting on her and other young captives, trying to splice their genes with shi'ido DNA in hopes that the survivors of the experiments would go on to become the perfect assassins for the Empire, able to blend in to any environment they're thrown at. However, most didn't survive the initial splicing... Except for Arrie, that is. The experiments left her horribly scarred and in insane amounts of pain, but she soon had shapeshifting abilities that were much like the shi'idos - though her human body imposed limitations - along with their telepathic abilities. Unbeknownst to her at the time, the only reason she survived was because she was Force-sensitive.

Time was hard to keep track of on the facility, but one day, a group of captured members of the Black Bha'lir came to the facility. Some were much older than the previous captives, but allegedly the scientists wanted to test some theories and needed older subjects. This move on the Empire's part proved to be the downfall of the research project, as the Black Bha'lir successfully sent in a rescue team, killed the researchers and took Arrie along with them, fleeing to the criminal haven of Socorro and laying low for a while. The Black Bha'lir treated Arrie as one of their own, and after she explained her story to them, agreed to help her return home.

When Arrie did return to Ealor, she found a Jensaarai defender waiting for her in the ruins of her family home. Arrie was devastated to learn that her parents had died protecting her siblings, and that if the Jensaarai hadn't arrived when they did to fend off the remaining pirates, her brothers would have either shared their fate or hers. Arrie's Black Bha'lir escort however did not trust the Jensaarai defender, believing the group to have been executed long ago by the Jedi during the tail end of the Clone Wars. The Jensaarai went on to explain how Arrie managed to survive the gene splicing she experienced, despite it being impossible for them to have known such things. Arrie demanded to be brought to see her brothers as proof that the Jensaarai was being truthful, and the trio embarked on a trip to Susevfi. There, Arrie learned that she wasn't the only member of her family who was Force-sensitive, and said goodbye to her Black Bha'lir friend, who promised her that she always had a place amongst them.

From there, Arrie began her years training with the Jensaarai, whom were forced to stay hidden thanks to Jedi hunters and Inquisitors. She learned how to make Jensaarai armor "...using Sith techniques for working cortosis". Her Force training included "... being able to effectively mask (her) presence in the Force", as well as "... a unique power they called ballistakinesis". In 1 ABY, Arrie completed her training, and built her Nexu-inspired armor as a rite of passage in earning her rank as a Ring Defender. As a Ring Defender, she was also given her ship - an old and worn T-6 Shuttle she named Cloudfall. From then until the Battle of Endor, Arrie was amongst the Jensaarai that conducted periodic raids and ambushes on nearby Imperial garrisons.

Arrie and her brothers' lives would once again drastically change after the Battle of Endor though. A group of pirates known as The Invids sent out a message to the Jensaarai, stating that they were free from the Empire's oppression and persecution. Furious with the Jensaarai's decision to trust a bunch of pirates, after all they had been through, the 3 eldest Gâtecœurs left Susevfi in 4 ABY and went their separate ways, all of them hoping to find someone to help them make the Jensaarai see the error of their ways. Arrie decidedly enlisted herself to join the Mantis Syndicate - a house of the Bounty Hunter's Guild well-known for their specialty in hunting pirates.

The year is now 9 ABY. Arrie is trying to build up enough money and reputation as a bounty hunter to hire some people to go and rid Susevfi of its Invids pirate occupation. Despite the fact that the Jensaarai "...were told that the Jedi were dark siders, and that the Sith were champions of the light", and even had the roles of Darth Vader and Obi-Wan Kenobi mixed up, Arrie has long ago learned that those teachings were wrong, and has thus become even more disillusioned with the Jensaarai since her self-exile. Despite still wearing her Jensaarai armor and wielding her lightsaber weapons still, Arrie will vehemently call herself an ex-member, and will be even more offended at being called a Jedi, despite having learned the truth about them.

Key details about this verse:

Arrie is a polyglot. She's fluent in Galactic Basic Standard, Caamasi, Rodese, Socorran, Ealoran, Mando’a and Bocce. She can also speak in broken Huttese and Tusken. If asked what was the easiest to learn, Arrie would say Caamasi - she had been the apprentice of a Caamasi, and they had formed a strong enough bond to where Arrie was able to learn the language through memnis.

Arrie’s main fighting style is a Tràkata / Sokan / Form VI: Niman hybrid, with a pinch of Dun Möch. She prefers using lightsaber pike combat, but is also trained in Jar'Kai and saber throwing.

On top of the Force powers taught by the Jensaarai, Arrie is naturally gifted at animal bonding. Other Force abilites she has includes Force barrier, Force listening (used to hear at great distances only), Force throwing, precognition, psychometry (one of her weaker abilities though - doesn’t often happen through her own will, and if it does, it takes A LOT out of her), Tapas, Force fear, and Force crush 

Arrie owns a double-bladed lightsaber pike, with one lightsaber end NOTABLY shorter than the other - think of the other end as more of a spiked pommel. The handle is made of phrik and measures 5 feet long. When both blades are activated, Arrie’s weapon is taller than her by a few inches. Despite that, she’ll often use it without the sabers being activated to hide the fact that she's an ex-Jensaarai. Arrie’s saber emits a yellow glow.

Along with her pikesaber, Arrie also owns a WESTAR-35 blaster pistol, a modified cycler slugthrower rifle, and various knifes with different purposes. Her weapons stay on her person practically at all times.

Arrie’s armor is modelled after a Nexu. It’s a cream white colour with dark stripes. Some features include 4 red “eyes” in the helm with built-in macrobinoculars and infrared vision, retractable claws, a whipcord launcher, and a crest of blue quills that adorn the top of the helm. There’s also a line of blue quills that go along her spine, but they’re retractable for practicality’s sake. More often that not though, Arrie wears a cloak over her armor to hide the majority of its details.

Arrie's T-6 Shuttle, Cloudfall, was retrofitted with two laser canons and a shield generator when she first received it. She also redid the interior entirely. Given that T-6's have a “… spacious interior provided for reasonably comfortable space travel”, Arrie would’ve fixed that part of the ship up so that it had 2 main sections - one for storage (holding cargo, supplies, weapons, with possibly some makeshift space for passengers), located closest to the loading ramp and taking up the majority of the ship’s spacious interior, and personal living quarters, located near the cockpit. As for the exterior, definitely not done in the red and white you see in pretty much all pictures of the T-6 - she more likely to have had the paint job done in a light grey, blue and yellow.

Due to Arrie’s heavy scarring, she got herself accumulated a series of tattoos through her Black Bha'lir connections to help cover them up. For sake of brevity, the tattoos look like her markings in her canon true form, except that the smoke goes along both of her arms and her spine, and does not move. Scars wise, she has a lot of medical scars from her time being gene spliced, such as a long scar along her spine, a scar line along her legs and arms, a line straight down the centre of her torso, and a line across her chest. She also has a scar just underneath her left eye from a lightsaber training accident. Arrie’s canon burn scar on her right side is present, but is from another training accident where a student figured out how to use Force lightening. All of her shapeshifting accident scars, including her wing scars, are also present, but any other canon scars are not. 

[witchingrey]

obey me! tidbits .

C.C. is Celtic, and part fairy or fae; or  Tuath Dé / Danann, having been abandoned by her full-blooded Mother from her original birth place within part of Ancient Britain’s corner of Northern Ireland, the fabled  Tír na nÓg before eventually finding herself living in the very human realm of the isles of ancient Britannia / Britain. Long before it established itself and wars were an every day occurrence. This lends itself to her natural longevity. 

With a natural, immeasurable talent for magic and power ingrained in her half-fae blood, or Sidhe, C.C. roamed between the portals of time and space without an ability to control her magic; already quite powerful as a little halfling child; she eventually came upon a teacher who would be teaching her into about her nigh two hundredth century by her own blood’s natural favoring.

The teacher had ulterior motives, and whatever happened between that time and, only a few centuries later would the ancient Witch discover to be a transferred ‘curse’ of immortality, the already guaranteed long life sealed with a curse instead of the freedom of the fair folk to which she both and did not belong. This betrayal has scarred C.C.

C.C. has an enigmatic history with Leviathan @perfectbluu​ as a child, having witnessed him once upon the seas wreaking havoc in full form; a changeling child no one wanted in long spurned rags and stale bread for company. As he wreaked said havoc upon the mortal realm; she confused him for a ‘great dragon’ and not a serpent. The girl foolishly offered a loaf of bread near the dock before concerned acolytes and fellow supernaturals took her back into a safer portal elsewhere. 

Eventually C.C. took residence in the Devildom after the entirety, start to finish, of the Witch Trials endured, and many other such things you’ll not find from her lips, finding no comfort among Man, long having been tortured, abused and manipulated in her innocent days by fire, quite literally, and other methods of heartache, tragedy and countless eternal stories that have gone into the thousands of her immortal life, one that would be consider blessed if not for the means. 

She began research into her ‘curse’ , taking many Witches and Warlocks / Sorcerers as apprentices to stave off loneliness and to make them wise in the world of demons, to whom so many easily gave their soul’s natural providence of dominion.

C.C. has spent countless years in the Devildom establishing herself as ‘The Great Witch / Grey Witch / Witch of Fate’ and other both seemly and unfriendly nicknames while keeping her blood a secret; though her nymph-like hair color, her rich, sun-colored eyes and regal features denote an otherwordly sort of beauty that no glamour could imitate. 

She is ultimately one of the key magical, non-demonic entities of myth that many young witches and warlocks aspire to be like, or in some cases, avoid due to unsavory rumors and far-fetched legends due to how long she has graced the earth both under hell and heaven.

Naturally gifted the power of seeing the strands of fate; C.C. has the natural given gift of ‘Sight’ and ‘Clairvoyance’, able to see the ‘red strings that bind’ and at times, even intervene but only on the personal vow of it being in the person’s best interest. She calls her actions of intervening for better or worse blended with knowing it is the right thing by her Sight, the Witch’s Scissors, because her Sight / Psionic abilities allows her to see the outcome. She uses it sparingly, as freedom of choice in longevity was taken from her; so too does she wish her students and proteges to find their own path. Although very few have become the latter due to either fear or unnecessary awe. 

C.C. ultimately reunites with Leviathan, finding familiarity in the yellow eyes that are not mad with bloodlust, but familiar all the same, stumbling upon him at some point in the Devildom prior to the MC arriving. She considers him her closest friend and one that has not left her in the flow of time. Aware of who he is after that long time ago as an innocent witchling girl; she finds relief that for his hermit-like ways, he seems more at peace in his hobbies. 

Ultimately, C.C. will if not in her main verse always harbor deeper emotions for the Avatar of Envy, Annie’s to be exact, having a history only she remembers awoken by him proposing a Pact, something she has avoided for many an age since her mistake with her first pact with a demon named Mao. She is notorious for being immensely and frighteningly powerful without having excessive amounts of demons for ulterior motives.  Which lends herself if she falls off the beaten path as a legitimate threat.

When summoning Leviathan, as discussed, he will take the form of a massive draconic Serpent just as she remembers him, but with sanity and reason. She generally does not call upon them, viewing their bond and mutual hurts and joys as sacred. 

Despite her curse expanding an already assured existence, C.C. still finds great purpose and an ability to see forward into her life’s endless flow due to her natural fae-given abilities, thus encouraging her timeless body to for ‘boredom’s sake’ partake in the studies of the Devildom if only to be a comforting source for young Witches. This has stopped her from becoming entirely cynical.

C.C. is easily one of the most powerful non-demonic entities in the Devildom and mortal world by hard work, natural talent, and sheer cunning. As a Witch, she is a paragon to many who seek her out for wisdom or teaching; finding she is a surprisingly gentle if not cryptic teacher known for both her beauty and her strictness. 

C.C. will only ship generally with @perfectbluu​ in Obey Me! Verse as she is highly protective of him and feels they have kindred spirits; only generally talking a liking to Beelzebulb, Satan, Lucifer and Mammon. That can easily change according to how they treat her chosen demon of pact, and will not hesitate to challenge them on their treatment of him and his hobbies as a coping mechanism, in the same sense she would feel a kinship with Solomon. A softness for Luke, and a wariness but quiet appreciation for the kindness of Simeon. She generally is too old and too busy to waste time on silly scruples of race.

Basically C.C. is known as both an enigma, her origins a secret, her age unknown, and renowned for both beauty and brains. To many witches and young magic users, she is an ideal, if not eccentric and gentle teacher who oddly enough always seems to have a knack of knowing just what might benefit their life’s path… 

[ominouslyqueer]

Grail had never been as proud as she was when the Council had named her captain of her own ship, making her the youngest captain in the history of the fleet with a mere ten moons under her belt. The pride had mingled with the shock in her core, but was quickly replaced with sharp joy. She didn't mind that it was a simple transport ship, utterly dwarfed by the warships next to it. It was hers, and she would finally be able to contribute to the war that had begun shortly after her emergence from the nesting hive.

No one could quite remember how the war had begun, though her people blamed the humans and the coarse words their species was known for finally causing the fragile peace treaty to snap. Humans had been at odds with countless species since their introduction to the intergalactic community, with the Hundrel people as one of the few exceptions, though that peace clearly didn't last, the thousands of dead speaking to that point.

As the captain of a tiny transport ship, Grail didn't waste time on forming opinions on who started what and who was worse in the casualties. The war had raged for this long, and it showed no signs of stopping. She had a job to do and she would do it.

Her crew had just finished loading the newest shipment human prisoners into the ship, and she was grateful that this lot seemed to be docile, their silence heavy but welcome as her hands navigated the controls. They would be taken to the next galaxy, where they would be kept until they were traded or executed depending on their crimes.

The engine humming warmly, she hands the controls off to her crew, retreating to her quarters to begin her record of the transport. As she passes the containment unit, a few of her eyes catch the gaze of an older human, his weathered face hidden under a dirty beard of matted grey hair. He grins with yellow teeth as he notices her stare, and she flinches, though her teachings remind her that many humans meant no harm by the action. She hurries away, ignoring the concerned glance of her first officer.

The humans had always been more bark than bite. This run would be no different.

---

Kidd's grin is sharp as the alien captain retreats, her many legs moving as quickly as she could without running. Smiling was handy in times like these, friendly to allies and a warning to foes since most other species in the universe hadn't gotten the hang of it. Not much else he could do to the bastards while he was stuck here.

He looks around the hull, taking in the haggard faces of the men and women around him. His crew were tough, but they had been hit with enough force that they couldn't run, and surrounded with enough enemy ships that fighting was a suicide mission. He didn't doubt that his people would die should he ask it, but there were better ways to die than being obliterated the moment they fired a single shot. No, they would live, and if he had his way they would fight another day.

His bones groan as he eases himself down the wall, joints stiff with disuse from the containment cells they had been before. His first mate rushes to help, ignoring his attempts to wave her off in favour of supporting his descent. Hela had always been a worrier, tough as she was. He nods in thanks, silently cursing his age that always seemed to catch him at the worst moments. Here at least he is level with the bottom of the windows, where a gap in the sheet metal gives him a view to the outside.

He had always loved the stars, his mam laughing at the irony of him being one of the few babes still born on Earth, though he jumped on the first ship he saw when he was old enough. He could remember staring up at the sky, trying to count every one he saw, a habit he had yet to break, though now his counting served a much different purpose.

Now he notes each star that passes by the hull, waiting until his count reaches over a hundred, enough to know they were out of range of the base they had left. They had reached no mans land, with no space station or planet close enough to be directly communicated with without at least a several minute delay.

He waits a for a beat, then another, before he starts to sing.

The first words are more air than sound, pushed through chapped lips into the hull, yet they pierce the silence almost deafeningly. His crew go tense, ready as always for a fight but Hela shakes her head, glancing at the guards that stand at the door. Still, it doesn't stop the grins that come to each face as familiar words ring out.

The king and his men

Stole the queen from her bed

And bound her to her bones

The seas be ours

And by the powers

Where we will, we'll roam

With each line his voice grows stronger, the words ringing off the metal walls. The guards shift, clearly put off by this sudden change from the silence before. Their unease worsens as Hela continues, her voice far lovelier than his but no less charged with the anger that fills their chests.

Yo, ho, all together

Hoist the colours high

Heave ho, thieves and beggars

Never shall we die

The chorus repeats, this time with more people joining in, and the man can't help but laugh as one guard rushes out, no doubt to let the alien captain know of their actions.

As the song swells with each new verse, he sits back to wait for what came next, his relaxed pose leaving no indication of the adrenaline starting to pump through his veins.

---

"I don't see why you felt the need to inform me the prisoners have begun singing, Grit. Prisoners do many strange things, singing is almost normal."

Grail pinched the bridge of her nose, a trait she seemed to share with the humans. Her log had been quick to finish, and she had planned to rest now that the difficult part of the voyage was over, only for her crew member to interrupt her first slumber in weeks. His fingers twist together as he averts his gaze, face flushing green but not backing down.

"Captain, it's not so much that they are singing, but what they're singing. I've never heard a song such as this one, yet each human in the hull knows the words by heart. The style doesn't fit any human music I've been exposed to either."

She sighs, but follows him out of her quarters. Her room had the thickest walls in the ship, and it is only once she is in the hallway to the main hull that she first hears the voices. They are indeed singing, the sound rough with untrained voices yet ringing with emotions she can't quite understand. Metallic clangs join the voices, in time with the words and making the song more ominous in turn.

Reaching the hull, she sees they're stomping in time, heavy boots loud against the floors of the ship. Still their voices ring louder, and she can't stop the shiver that runs through her as she is met with a blend of grins and glares from the group, her arrival doing nothing to change the swell of music greeting her.

Some men have died

And some are alive

And others sail on the sea

-With the keys to the cage

And the Devil to pay

We lay to Fiddler's Green

Once more the chorus strikes, now each human seeming to try to deafen them with the volume. One figure catches her eyes, the man from before who had grinned at her.

He sits at the edge of the group, almost lounging against the wall. She would have missed him completely were it not for the hunger in his gaze, as well as the way the group seemed to gravitate around him, both protecting and energized by his presence. He stares at her, and it is enough to push her back to the control room, muttering to Grit to ignore the obvious attempt to put them on edge (as she ignores the fact that it's working).

She scans the controls and screens in an attempt to distract herself from the raging swell behind her. Her attention is captured by a tiny blip on their security screen, barely visible but enough to send a frisson of fear down her spine. She curses softly as her fingers race across the keyboard, searching for the source of the blip.

"Captain?"

Her first mate, Ilso looks concerned, moreso when Grail lets out a soft screech of expletives, a bad habit picked up from some of the nastier human prisoners she had hauled. She turns, stifling the urge to run her hands through her hair.

"Our communication shields were breached, someone is listening to everything we're saying on this ship." Facing the screens again, she tries to push the offending force out of the system but it holds strong.

Ilso chuckles, the sound high and nervous.

"Well I don't know what they hope to hear over this racket. Though I suppose they might this tune..."

His words strike at them both, eyes widening as they turn towards the hull, where the group is somehow still getting louder. She gestures towards the room frantically.

"Get them to shut up, do whatever you have to, I'll try and shut it down here."

He nods and rushes out, gesturing to the guards to follow him into the room. She can't hear what he's yelling over the song but she ignores it for the moment, turning back to the monitors to try and rebuild their defenses. Her fingers can't seem to move fast enough, each wall falling to whatever is attacking them, her codes becoming sloppy and rushed as she desperately tries to keep them out.

Her blood freezes as the navigation system shows a ship appearing next to them, the whir of lightspeed slowing down enough to send her panic rushing through her. Another appears on the other side. The ships are small, but any relief over that is quickly dashed as more keep appearing. They're fully surrounded by the time she breaks out of her panic enough to bring up visuals.

The first thing she notices is how each ship seems almost shoddy in some way, repaired with scraps and peeling paint that seem at odds with the powerful guns they're equipped with. Each is different, the only similarity being the symbol each has painted somewhere, a grinning skull on a black background that rings faintly of a lesson on human history she had mostly forgotten, times of violence and wars on oceans more vast than any on Hundrel.

She's shaken from such memories as the final ship appears, a fleet leader as big as any Hundrel warship, clearly human but also bearing the skull of the group. A few figures hang out of the airlocks, clutching ropes as their skin glitters with the portable containment fields that her people were known for. The large hanger doors lining the sides of the fleet leader slowly open, and she realizes that her ship has been caught in a tractor beam, the fleet leader slowly pulling them in.

She tries the controls, but it's futile, and so she rushes to warn the others. The singing still hasn't stopped, and as she enters the hull she sees that Ilso has been overtaken by some of the humans, the other guards held off by the blade braced against Ilso's throat by the woman closest to the grinning man. Ilso's eyes are panicked as they meet hers, and she is caught in the haze of fear that had been buzzing at the edges of her mind since the start of the fiasco.

"Captain?" Grit hides his panic well, but she can still catch the edge to his voice. "What's happening?!"

"We're caught. Hostiles, don't know their identities other than possibly human. They've been listening since we left the base's range."

She has to shout over the humans, and her words only make them cheer louder. Now the man with the yellow teeth joins in, his voice somehow ringing through all the others.

The bell has been raised from its watery grave

Do you hear its sepulchral tone?

A call to all, pay heed to the squall

And turn your sail toward home!

They're nearly thrown by the sudden stop, her ship screeching against the floor of what must be the hangar. She can barely hear the rumble of the hangar doors closing, the song now seeming to echo louder indoors. Through the window of the control room, she catches a glimpse of the heavy metal doors crashing closed, the sight cementing the shivers she can no longer suppress.

Her eyes swing to the doors of her own ship as the squeal of tearing metal rings out, far too close for comfort. For a transport ship, the presence of prisoners meant they were reinforced specifically for cases of attempted prison breaks, though those were in regard to attacks in the vacuum of space.

Here, they stood no chance to the continuous assault, and with a wicked screech they crumple and fall away. The instant they do, she realizes that the sound of the group didn't increase because of their own voices, but because outside the ship there seemed to be hundreds more joining in, creating an unending wave of sound that rang through the cavernous room.

Yo, ho, haul together

Hoist the colours high

Heave ho, thieves and beggars

Never shall we die

The humans rush out of the ship, several stopping to grab her and her crew to haul them along as they finish the song with the beings outside, their cheers leaving the room ringing with noise even as they taper off. She can indeed see hundreds filling the rooms, swarming around ships and piles of supplies as they rush to greet the escaped prisoners.

It's mostly humans, but she's shocked to see members of all species from countless planets and factions intermingling, most dirty and thin but still smiling wide. She gasps as she catches sight of some Huldren people, seeming perfectly at ease around the humans they spoke with, exchanging jokes and stories with none of the issues the Council complained of.

She tries to take in as much as she can, but quickly she is passed off to some other humans, who smile widely as she and her crew are dragged out of the hanger. Fear sticks to her skin as they're dumped in cells that are completely dark when the doors close. Huddling closely to her crew, they wait for what will come, the remnants of the music still ringing in their ears.

---

"Kidd! You old bastard, I thought you were dead!"

Kidd turns at the familiar voice, leaning heavily on Hela as he presses a hand to the cut on his leg the alien had gotten before Hela had stepped in. He grins at the figure running towards him, finally relaxing at the sight of his old friend.

"Edward, you should know by now I'm fucking hard to kill."

The other man rolls his eyes, either at his words or the use of his first name, but doesn't hesitate to pull the man into a warm hug, clapping his back firmly before pulling away.

"You should just be glad we were listening for your message. Not terribly subtle, but then our folk rarely are." His gaze finds the wound on Will's leg, eyes turning dark as he takes in the sluggish bleeding. "I don't suppose you'll be wanting them that got you that cut to be dealt with?"

He shakes his head, leaning back on Hela as she wraps her arm around him.

"Nah, this was a desperate act of a desperate man, when they found out what we were up to. They were just doing their job the best they could. Same deal as always, some time in the hole then if they want they can join one of our crews or be dropped off at the nearest planet. They seem decent enough, unlike some people I could think of."

Edward nods, willing as always to listen to the older man. Kidd could remember when he first picked up the scrawny stowaway, teaching him how to not get killed as best he could, and Edward still took his advice more often than not, even as his crew grew beyond anything Kidd ever managed.

The three walk down the hall, Edward leading them to the med ward where a few of the gentler folk took care of any injuries, which kept their hands pretty full in this profession. Kidd looks around, admiring the size of the ship.

"So where'd you pick this beauty up? Nearly gave me a heart attack to be found in it til I heard the voices." Edward laughs, looking proud as he glances out of the window, where the rest of the ships can be seen.

"Stole her right from under the noses of the Admiral off the edge of the Milky Way. Close enough to home to make me uneasy but so worth the effort. Plus it's always fun to piss off the army, human or otherwise, makes life exciting."

"Can't argue with that, even if I'm not as spry as I used to be." There's objections from the other two at his words, but he waves them off as best he can. "Oh hush, it's no insult to have managed to live this long. I'm more insulted by the pitiful excuse of a beard you have."

Hela laughs at Edward's spluttering, hands coming up as though to protect the thin black fuzz covering his lower face.

"I only just started this, you son of a bitch, someday it'll be even longer than yours."

Kidd agrees with a vague noise, distracted by their arrival to the med bay, as he is immediately rushed by several of the crew tasked with first aid. His leg is wrapped tight and he's then ushered to a room in the guest quarters near Edward's rooms. Hela orders him to rest and he is left alone, finally able to fully relax for the first time in weeks.

He sits near the windows, looking out at the expanse of ships and space that seem to stretch endlessly. He can still hear the cheering of the crowds beneath him, the celebrations sure to last until the morrow, when he would be better fit to join in.

He settles in, hoping to plan for the day ahead, but his exhaustion hits hard after holding off for so long and he drifts into a restless sleep, mind filled with visions of violent seas that churn beneath him, and voices ringing in time to the crashing waves.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me

[wistfulcynic]

Self-Promo Sunday: The Very Witching Time

Tomorrow I’ll be posting The Sleep of the Sun, my contribution for @cspupstravaganza​ and a continuation of The Very Witching Time, which I wrote for the Supernatural Summer this year. It isn’t necessary to read TVWT to read the TSotS, but just in case, here it is! 

Though it starts in summer the main action takes place in October, and there’s an eerie, witchy vibe throughout. It’s a modern setting, because I love witch!Emma as a modern woman who wears jeans and watches Netflix and uses her magic to keep her drinks hot and make her pancakes perfectly circular. But of course when she’s threatened by ancient evil she can use her magic for far more than that. Or when she meets an injured dog in the forest and needs it to heal him. 

I love this verse so much, and these versions of Emma and Killian, AND the next chapter of their lives, beyond The Sleep of the Sun, which I hope will appear next year for the Supernatural Summer! I just can’t let it go. 

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian. 

Words: 35k Rating: M (for violence and mild sexy times)  Tags: modern AU, magical AU, witchcraft AU, witch!Emma, cursed!Killian, witches, witchcraft, witch lore 

On Tumblr: One | Two | Three | Four  | Five | Six

On AO3

CHAPTER ONE:

Emma Swan lived atop a jagged cliff in a house that seemed an extension of it, rising up from the wind-hewn face into pointed towers that stood stark against the sky. The house was of the same stone as the cliff itself, great slabs of it, slabs too large to be used for construction, slabs that, observing them, one felt could have been formed only by the hand of nature and never that of man. It was a part of the landscape, that house, as old as the earth and only slightly younger than the sky, perched at the edge of those perilous cliffs in a way that made it impossible to imagine them without it.

The back of the house, or rather the front, as that was where the door was set, however, presented an altogether different aspect; one of a delightful cottage of typical grey Maine clapboard, squat and cheerful with a steeply sloping roof trimmed in white and a low stone wall surrounding a tumbledown greenhouse and a garden where bushes, trees, and flowers jumbled together and neither rhyme nor reason appeared to play any role. On the casual observer the effect was charming in an artless way, yet a keener eye would note method behind the garden’s seeming madness, an ancient wisdom in the randomness of the tumbling riots of colour that shifted and transmuted with the seasons. Where in spring it boasted bright red poppies and purple larkspur, delicate white anemones and pink blossoms on the apple trees twisting around each corner of the wall, summer brought fragrant freesia and heather for the bees, its warm breezes rustling through the tall irises and lilies. Autumn ushered in the muted oranges and yellows of chrysanthemums and the fluffy white of Queen Anne’s Lace, salvia and yarrow and berries from the rowan tree. Even in winter the garden provided: the glossy green leaves and red berries of the holly bushes brightened the snowy vista as pansies and orchids flourished in the greenhouse.

Beyond the garden wall a forest sprawled, dark and wild and perilous, from the very edge of the cliff where trees clung by their gnarled roots to the borders of the village where it dwindled into fenced yards and tidy houses. Here your casual observer would feel a shivering prickle on the back of his neck, that uncomfortable sensation of being watched by things not quite of this world that is more commonly reserved for graveyards at dusk and abandoned Victorian houses. He would move quickly through the dense woodland —yet not so quickly that he appeared to be hurrying— and upon emerging he would feel the sunshine as a balm on skin grown far colder than he’d realised.

The keen observer would, of course, not go into the forest at all.

Emma was as keen an observer as anyone could be but the forest, for all its determined menace, posed no threat to her. She relied on it, in fact, for ingredients she could not or did not wish to cultivate in her garden or greenhouse, just as it relied on her to keep a rein on its magic. Emma and the forest had an understanding.

That understanding failed to extend to the village which separated the forest from the lush farmlands which this stretch of Maine coastline boasted; the richest soil in New England it was said, guarded closely by the residents of Storybrooke who despite their distrust of it were prepared to put up with creepy forest at their backs in exchange for prosperity at their fronts. And though they rarely ventured into the woods themselves they were broad minded and mercenary enough to appreciate the labours of those who did, of Emma and the generations of witches who had come before her; wise women who kept the forest in check and the villagers placated with potions and tinctures, candles to encourage love or drive away evil spirits and balms to soothe every ailment from a bumped head to a broken heart.

And so, just as witches had done in Storybrooke from the time of the earliest settlement of her ancestors in this land, Emma kept an apothecary shop in the village, stocked with the wares she blended and brewed herself, travelling to and from it each day along the very same forest path that had been daily trodden by so many powerful women over the course of the centuries.  

The path was so familiar to her she could follow it in her sleep, which she almost did on the August afternoon when our tale begins, lulled by the muggy weight of the late summer air. The sunlight that shone so brightly on the village barely penetrated here; just a few slender shafts of it reached the forest floor, encouraging the growth of the rare plants on which Emma’s livelihood relied but doing little to alleviate the atmosphere made dense by damp heat and malign magic. Emma was blinking heavy eyelids, her mind on the cushioned bench in her garden that was so well suited to afternoon naps when the sound of an animal in distress wove its way into her drowsy consciousness.

It sounded like a dog, which caught her attention. Wilder, less domesticated creatures like cats and witches may feel comfortable enough with the forest’s demeanour to venture within, but dogs, being the keenest observers of all, tended to avoid it with the same diligence and for the same reasons as their humans did.

The noise came again, one that hovered somewhere between a whine and a growl, pained and frustrated. It tugged at Emma’s mind, clearing away her sleepy haze as from the corner of her eye she caught a quivering in the leaves of a hawthorn bush that twisted up from the undergrowth to the left of the path and the flash of a black tail just beyond it.

Without hesitating Emma plunged into the bracken, drawing on her own magic and that of the hawthorn as she went, wrapping threads of both around the bush’s thorny branches and pulling them aside to reveal a large black dog crouched at an awkward angle behind it. The dog looked up and when it saw her it stilled for a moment, staring at her with blue eyes that were almost shocking in its black face, a deep, clear blue she’d never seen on a dog before, bright and intelligent. It blinked and shook its head then looked at her again this time with a plea in those remarkable eyes, giving three quick, deep barks.

{Please help me.}

An affinity with animals was one of Emma’s gifts, and she was not surprised to hear the dog’s voice in her head. She smiled reassuringly and offered her hand.

“Hey, puppy,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “What’s the matter?”

The dog sniffed her hand then gave it a lick, its tail wagging furiously. She petted its head and scratched its ears as she slowly inched closer. It seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances but Emma had seen enough injured animals to be wary, knowing how abruptly their pain and fear could overcome them. She knelt on the ground next to it, murmuring gentle words and stroking its back, and took stock of the situation.

The dog’s front right leg was deep in what was likely a gopher hole, buried up to the middle of its shin, and though the sounds she’d heard and the state of the ground around the hole bore witness to the dog’s attempts to free itself, it was clear to Emma as indeed it would be even to the casual observer that the dog was thoroughly stuck and also that the leg was broken.

“Oh, poor baby,” she murmured. “That must hurt. I can help, if you’ll let me. Will you trust me?”

The dog looked right at her and she could see her answer in its extraordinary eyes, filled with pain but also hope and what she would swear was comprehension. It whined and gave her chin a single, gentle lick, then nodded its head.

“Well, that’s clearly a yes,” said Emma. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She hunched closer and examined the dog’s leg, well and truly wedged into the gopher hole, and winced. “I’m really sorry pup but this is going to hurt,” she said, looking up to catch the dog’s gaze again, marvelling at how calm it was despite its distress. She grasped its leg as gently as she could below the break and gathered her magic. “Ready? One… two…”

On three she pulled the leg from the hole, using her magic to ease its way. The dog whimpered at the pain but did not bark or growl and when its leg was free it licked her chin again.

“Okay, that’s step one,” said Emma. “Now let’s see how bad this is.” She probed the leg as delicately as she could with her fingertips, feeling the fractured bone beneath the fortunately unbroken skin. The break felt clean, with no jagged edges. “It’s not as bad as it could have been, I should be able to heal it,” she said, wondering briefly why she was explaining herself to a dog, though the animal in question was watching her intently with those intelligent eyes looking for all the world as though it knew exactly what she was saying. “I’m gonna have to set the break so there’ll be pain again and then I’ll heal it right after. Okay?”

The dog gave a short bark followed by another nod.

{Ready.}

“Okay, then,” said Emma. She gathered her magic, pulling it from the forest flowers and the leaves of the trees for backup, then as quickly as she could she snapped the broken bone back into place and wove her magic into it, knitting it together and soothing the pain in the damaged tissues.

When she finished she sat back on her heels with a sigh and closed her eyes. That was more magic than she’d used in some time and she felt a bit woozy. When she opened them again they fell immediately on the dog, who was staring at its leg in wonder.

Could dogs stare in wonder? She frowned, realising she didn’t actually know very much about the canine species. As a witch she’d always considered herself more of a cat person.  

“Give it a try,” she told the dog. “It’s all better now.”

The dog stood up and began to walk, tentatively at first and then with greater confidence. After a few loping steps it spun around and barked excitedly before trotting back to her with a delighted expression, tongue lolling from the corner of its mouth.

Emma, however, was still frowning. Despite the dog’s obvious pleasure its gait had a distinct limp and when it moved quickly it used only three legs, forgoing the left one entirely.

Its left leg… when she had healed the right.

“Hey,” she said. “Come here. Let me see that other leg.”

It limped closer and placed its left leg in her lap, a leg which she was now able to observe did not end in a paw.

“Oh, no!” she cried, bending to get a closer look at what was evidently an old injury and a badly healed one, with rough scar tissue and signs of wear where the dog had walked on it. “Oh poor you. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt, is it? How do you walk?”

The dog tilted its head in what was plainly a shrug.

“I guess you manage the best you can, huh? Well, I can’t give you your paw back but if you come home with me I should be able to fix you up with something to protect the end of your leg and help you walk a bit better. How does that sound?”

The dog licked her face enthusiastically and barked, and now that the press of emergency had passed she noticed the peculiar cadence of its cry.

“Aye!” barked the dog.  

Emma blinked. She may not be the world’s foremost authority on dogs, but even she knew that they were supposed to say things like “woof” or “arf.” She’d never heard of a dog saying “aye” before.

“Aye?” she repeated with a laugh. “Well, I guess that’s pretty obviously agreement.” She stood and brushed the dirt and twigs from her legs as the dog stood patiently in its slightly off-kilter way. “What should I call you?” she asked it. “I don’t suppose you have a name.”

Killian.

The name sprang into her mind, though the dog hadn’t barked. “Killian?” she repeated, startled.

“Aye!” barked the dog.

“Really?”  

“Aye!”  

“You sure? It’s not Spot or Buster or Joe or something?”

The dog looked affronted, and she laughed again. “All right, Killian it is then. I guess that means you’re a boy.”

“Aye!”

“Well okay, Killian, let’s go. We can have some dinner and then I’ll see what I can do about that paw.”

Killian bounded in an excited circle around her, his tail a blur. He moved remarkably well, considering, she thought, even as she laughed at his antics, and soon he’d settled into a limping trot alongside her as she headed home.

When they reached her garden gate she opened it and went straight in but Killian halted with a short bark of distress. She turned in surprise at the sound to see him pacing to and fro in front of the gate, whining softly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

He whined louder and gave two short barks.

{Not welcome.}

“But why wouldn’t you be—” Emma frowned. The wards around her garden were designed to keep humans away, permitting none to enter without permission. But they shouldn’t have any effect on a dog.

Should they?

She really needed to learn more about dogs, she thought with mild irritation. This was clearly a gaping hole in her education.

In the meantime she called to the magic in the ancient warding spells, and spoke the age-old words to quieten them. “I see thee, Killian, and I name thee friend,” she said, in a voice that echoed through the open air. “Be welcome in this place.”

The magic of her garden surged and she held out her arms as it rippled and danced around her, ruffling her hair and gilding her skin with tiny sparks of light. Killian stared at her with wonder in his eyes again, and when the sparks faded away and she lowered her arms he cautiously stepped through the gate. The moment he crossed its threshold the garden’s magic… sighed, a soft exhale that sang of enduring hopes fulfilled at too long last, and curled itself around him, ruffling his fur as it had her hair.

Now it was Emma’s turn to stare. Her magic had never done that before. She gaped as Killian seemed to smirk —could dogs smirk?— at the unseen attention he was getting before rolling onto his back and letting the garden’s magic rub his tummy.

“Seriously?” cried Emma. “That’s enough of that, from both of you, Killian, come inside.”

She marched over to the cottage door and pulled it open. Killian leapt to his feet and ran after her, pausing just at the doorstep to wink at the garden before trotting into her kitchen.

Could dogs wink?

Emma made a mental note to dig up a book on canine behaviours later that night. There must be one in her library. Somewhere.

“I don’t have much that’s suitable for dogs,” she warned him as she opened the icebox. “But I think I’ve got some hamburgers in here if that’s okay—”

“Aye! Aye!”

“Okay, let me just heat them up.”

She defrosted the hamburgers with some gentle warming magic and put them on a plate for him. The minute she set it on the floor he dove in, gobbling up the meat with enthusiasm bordering on frenzy.

“Wow, you were hungry! How long has it been since you ate?”

He looked up at her and licked his chops, tail wagging vigorously, and barked twice before digging in again.

{Long time.}

“Well, don’t eat too fast, it’ll make you sick.”

Emma made herself a sandwich and munched it as she watched him diligently try to eat more slowly. When the last morsel was gone he lapped the plate clean then came over to her and licked her hand in thanks, wagging his tail as she scritched his ears before relaxing back onto his haunches and giving her the opportunity to observe him.

He was, as she had noticed in the woods, a large dog, though not a bulky one, with long slender legs and lean muscles. Standing, his head reached her waist with his shoulders around the middle of her thigh. His fur was thick and shaggy and a deep, light-absorbing black, though a v-shaped tuft right in the centre of his chest was bright white and fluffy and so soft-looking that her fingers itched to pet it.

He watched her examine him with a twinkle in his blue eyes that she was certain couldn’t be normal for a dog, as though he knew what she was thinking. She popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and when he pouted —did dogs pout?— she gave him a small smirk. “You had your dinner,” she said firmly. “You can’t have mine too. Now what do you say we go and see what can be done about that paw.”

She stood and left the kitchen, Killian at her heels, and headed past the living room and the closed library door, through a dark and narrow passageway towards the rear of the house. As she approached, the solid-seeming wall at the end of the corridor began to shimmer with the same sparking light that had surrounded her in the garden and a doorway appeared, wrought from the same stone as the slabs of the house itself, curving elegantly to form a pointed Gothic arch and frame a door of solid wood, thick and heavy and older than anything that surrounded it.

The door swung open as Emma drew near and she breezed through it without a thought. Killian, sensing the darker energy emanating from the other side, hesitated as he had at the garden gate. Emma turned, her smile understanding.

“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It’s not dangerous, just old. Old things are sometimes… indifferent to younger ones. But it won’t hurt you. Nothing will hurt you here.”

Hesitantly he came through the doorway, moving slowly to allow the magic there to get a sense of him. It was less welcoming than the garden had been, but not hostile. As Emma said, it was simply indifferent. This magic had seen too many mortal creatures come and go in its time to care overly much about yet another one.

Emma led him into a large stone room with no windows, the tall, thick candles lining the walls its only source of light. These she set burning with a wave of her hand and the illumination they produced flooded the room with a golden glow despite their modest number. Stone stairs curved up the walls on either side of the room, leading to the towers that flanked the house, their twin helixes twisting up and disappearing into a darkness too dense even for the candles to penetrate. A heavy and cluttered wooden table spanned the length of the far wall, and this Emma approached, producing a thick, soft blanket of deep midnight blue scattered with stars from a woven wicker basket beneath it.

She spread the blanket carefully over the centre of the otherwise bare stone floor, placing at each of its corners a small silver bowl filled with sea salt and thyme and a few dried violet leaves, murmuring a short incantation over them as she did. “Sit here,” she instructed Killian, indicating the centre of the blanket. “I’ll need a few minutes to get my things together.”

Obediently, he sat and watched her in fascination as she rifled through the jumbled collection of bottles, jars, and bags on the table, frowning and muttering to herself as she did.

“…comfrey and rosemary and a bit of peppermint, sage to infuse and to burn…” she intoned as she gathered the named ingredients together. When all were assembled she snapped her fingers to light a fire beneath her copper kettle, then carefully weighed out the herbs on her silver scales while the water inside it came to a boil. She blended the herbs in a large mortar, crushing and grinding them with the pestle to blend them well and draw out their essence before tipping them carefully into a painted ceramic pot and pouring the boiling water over them. Stirring them gently with her magic, with her fingertips she traced arcane symbols through the steam as it rose from the pot into the cool, still air.

When she judged the herbs sufficiently infused she strained their liquid through a clean cheesecloth into a wide copper bowl. As it cooled to a comfortable temperature, she removed a lump of pure silver from a leather bag, holding it up to observe its gleam in the candlelight. The lump was large but to complete the healing properly would require all of it, and it was also precious. Glancing behind her she saw Killian sitting patiently, watching her, his eyes wide and curious but not afraid. Trusting.

He was worth it. She felt sure of that, and though she had no idea why she did not vacillate. Emma had long since learned to trust her instincts.  

She took a bundle of dried sage and held it up to a candle flame until it caught —some fires needed to be started in the mundane way— then blew the flame out with a quick puff of breath and waved the smouldering herbs around the blanket and over the copper bowl before dropping them into the potion. Carefully she lifted the bowl and carried it to the blanket, kneeling down upon it and placing the bowl in front of Killian. Closing her eyes she muttered a brief incantation before taking his damaged leg and bathing it in the warm liquid, her fingers gentle but thorough, making sure to clean away all the dirt and debris from the gnarled scar tissue. He growled softly, deep in his throat, and she shot him a smile, knowing it was a growl of pleasure.

“Feels good, huh?” she said. “Soothing.”

“Aye.” His bark was as low as his growl.

{Good.}

When his leg was clean she dried it with a linen cloth and set it in her lap, then took out the lump of silver, placing it at the end of his leg and cupping both loosely in the palms of her hands. Closing her eyes once more she focused her powers and drew forth the metal’s own magic, its primal properties of health and healing, her hands beginning to spark and glow with light as she kneaded the silver, stretching and weaving it back into itself, moulding the lump into the shape of a dog’s paw and then knitting it into the damaged flesh of the leg. Killian watched with wide eyes, whimpering slightly as the metal sank into his skin and fused to his bones. The light from Emma’s hands burst into a sudden blinding brightness, flickered out, and the silver paw was part of him.

Emma slumped back on her heels, exhausted. “Whew,” she said. “Done.” She patted the metal paw. “Give it a try.”

Killian sniffed the paw, licked at the seam where it joined his leg, then tentatively placed it on the floor and leaned his weight on it. He took a few careful steps followed by bolder ones, then turned to Emma with an incredulous expression. She laughed, happy he was happy. “Go on, stretch yourself,” she encouraged.

“Aye!” he barked, frolicking joyfully around the room, spinning in circles and leaping through the air. He ran to Emma and jumped on her, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her face until she pushed him away, grinning through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m glad you like it,” she told him as she rose unsteadily from the floor. “I gotta get to bed. Um…” she swayed on her feet and Killian was there immediately at her side, pressing firmly against her leg and letting her brace herself with her hand on his neck as she stumbled from the stone room and out the doorway.

It disappeared behind her, the magic within whispering far more warmly than before, no longer so indifferent to Killian as it had been.

Emma sank her fingers into his thick fur, clinging to him as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Her head felt heavy and woozy, her fingers and toes numb. Moving clumsily she kicked off her shorts and unhooked her bra, pulling it from beneath her tank top with jerky movements and dropping it to the floor before collapsing into bed, sinking deep into the pillows. Dimly she was aware of Killian moving around the room, his fur soft against her skin as he pulled the blankets up over her, the warm weight of him curling up at her back, his chin resting on her hip. With the last of her energy she reached up to stroke his head then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

                                                    ~~🌺~~

Some hours later Killian was awoken from his doze when the magic from Emma’s garden called to him. He lifted his head from where it still lay on her hip and gave a low growl, staring through the bedroom window into the pitch blackness of the night.

Something was out beyond the garden wall, moving around its perimeter, methodically testing the magical boundary in search of weaknesses. Killian could sense it there, could feel its cold determination and intent even without the garden’s warning.

Threat, whispered the garden magic in his mind. Danger. Stay with her.

Killian flexed his new silver paw, feeling the power that still thrummed within it, feeling the absence of pain in his left limb for the first time in many a year. He looked at the golden haired woman still sound asleep, drained to exhaustion by the act of healing him, of selflessly giving him this invaluable gift. He recalled her warm green eyes and kind smile, the strength and gentleness in her touch.

He lay back down, pressing tighter against her, curling his neck around her hip and placing his silver paw gently over her waist. He closed his eyes again and answered the garden’s plea.

{Always.}

Tis now the very witching time of night,

When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out

Contagion to this world.

                                   —Hamlet, Act III Scene 2

Continue to Chapter 2 

[deadlyfantasia]

@chainedfate​ / 👁️

      A gap tore itself into existence, hovering right over the shrine’s living room. As it opens itself, the top half of a woman appears, her tone casual as she speaks, clearly having expected someone else to be in the room. “Reimu~ the summer heat hasn’t killed you has it? Ah— oh my.” She noticed the unfamiliar child soon enough, blinking in surprise for a moment before the youkai’s gaze shifted to sheer curiosity as she examining the other.

      “Well, well…”

      Yukari casually leaned forward upon her gap, resting her chin upon her hands as a cheerful smile spread across her lips. “I take it you must be the new human everyone has been buzzing about!”

[eurovision-del]

And now, just before the show tonight, here’s the conclusion of my ranking of the entries this year, with my top 10.

10. Sweden – Move

I never got the hype for any other song in Melfest this year so I was overjoyed when this song won! It’s just such an expression of love and joy, with a message that may be familiar but still very important. The Mamas nail those harmonies and each gets a moment to shine, their voices are so incredible. I enjoy the pop sounds in the chorus well enough, but the moment I love is when it moves in the properly gospel bridge, it just brings the energy right up.

9. Georgia – Take Me As I Am

Georgia have become one of my favourite countries in Eurovision, up there with Albania and Portugal. I’m so grateful that they stick to their guns and do their own thing, sending interesting varied music. As a halfway decent rock song, this was always going to make my top 10. It’s not perfect as far as rock goes, I feel it could do with a little more variety, it’s all very loud with long notes, and I could do with some different rhythms and levels in the verses, but the scream of anguish works very well in the chorus, and I like the grungy sound the song has. I do think this song is saying something important with the idea of wanting to be loved as who you are while taking a dig at the big 5, but I do feel the lyrics, while to the point, can feel a little basic. Tornike is one of the artists confirmed for next year, and I’m very excited to see what he brings!

8. Norway – Attention

This is the best straightforward ballad this year as far as I’m concerned. I find it deeply moving, Ulrikke sings this song and sells it so well. Lyrically, I think this is actually really strong, at first I was put off by how needy it sounds, but the main line in the chorus ‘why do I think it’s ok not being me because of you’ brings it all together and makes it clear it’s about someone who knows it isn’t healthy, but can’t help themselves, and it makes the song feel so much more relatable and painful to me. The melody is also really strong, and I adore the moment after the quieter bridge where the song absolutely lets loose in the climax.

7. Germany – Violent Thing

Sometimes a song just cuts through, and I don’t care about the lyrics, and I can’t point to what it is, but it just sets the mood so well and I just want to dance. This is that song this year. I could point to a good production, and a unique voice, but in the end I can’t really justify my love for this song other than the instrumental just works for me! I want songs to make me feel something and this is just makes me feel happy, I can’t really explain it.

6. Czech Republic – Kemama

So remember when I ranked this song 5th out of 7 in the Czech selection? I still stand by that ranking, that’s how strong that selection was this year. That said Kemama did grow on me over time. I’ve just finished my final semester at Uni and submitted my dissertation a couple of days ago, and I’m not sure when it was, but at some point this song became my relief from it all, I love how chill it sounds while still being really uplifting, and those pre-chorus lyrics (I just work like this, 24/7) became a bit of an anthem for me these past months. The lyrics hit the perfect spot between being really personal to the singer, but also very relatable. I didn’t hate the first revamp either, though it was poorly mixed, and I really like the final version, those little guitars are so nice, though like Alcohol You I wish it had upped the intensity on the final chorus by working on the backing track without having to resort to changing the melody and forcing in a dramatic note in the main line, but I think it’s still a great track.

5. Israel – Feker Libi

So looking at the average mood of my top 10 (with some exceptions), apparently I just wanted to feel good things this year. This is the song that encapsulates that, it’s such a burst of joy and fun, and the one that most successfully fills me with happiness and makes me want to dance! I think the blend of different ethnic influences in the backing and the different languages works so well here. There’s so many things that just work here, from the little instrumental line at the very opening, to the vocal calls, to the way it repeats the chorus just enough to get it well and truly stuck in your head, but switches up the beat to keep it interesting and exciting. I love the second half of the chorus where the heavier ethnic beats come in, but I think part of why it works is because it contrasts so nicely with the more familiar dance beats in the first half of the chorus. My favourite part though is the end, where it ramps up the energy with the beat switch and it’s just so good! And to top it all off it’s sung by Eden Alene, who is such a great charismatic performance, she exudes joy on that stage and just seems like someone you’d want to party with. Of all the artists who are confirmed for next year, she’s the one I’m happiest for.  

4. Ukraine – Solovey

In Feker Libi I could point to so many individual parts and say why they work for me, for Solovey I just have to point to the whole song. The blend of ethnic sounds with that singing technique and the modern beats works really well, and while drops are very hit and miss for me, this one just works. It’s a truly unique entry, I can’t think of anything I can really compare it to, and one that I absolutely love.

3. The Netherlands – Grow

This song was one of the later ones released, at a similar time to many others, and I thought it was nice but kind of overlooked it the first time I heard it. I can’t remember when it was, but there was one time I was listening through all the songs, and it just reached out and touched me, and I absolutely fell in love with this song. I love the structure here, the way it starts contemplative with several verses, before the final section builds up to a peak right at the end of the song, taking you on a journey from almost bittersweet reflection to a final note of confidence and hope. Jeangu has such a great voice, and I adore the way he sings this song, he brings so much texture and emotion to the lyrics. And about those lyrics, these are easily my favourite this year. I tend not to look up lyrics for songs, if I can’t pick them out in the song, I won’t judge them, and that was absolutely true for this song, but this song really puts the lyrics front and centre so I couldn’t help but pay attention. Similar to Kemama, they’re a good mix of deeply personal and relatable, but the emotional connection is so much deeper in this song. This is the point in my ranking where I really start to mourn that we’ll be missing these songs on stage, I’m sure Jeangu will bring something great next year but this song is so excellent I’m disappointed we’ll never see it on stage.

2. Iceland – Think About Things

Looking back on my rankings at the time I almost can’t believe I didn’t rank this song first in Iceland in the semis. But by the time the final came round I knew I wanted it to win though, and it’s only grown on me since. There’s not much I can say on this song that I haven’t said before, the instrumentation is top tier, I love the 80s synth, that brass in the instrumental, and that baseline. The song progresses so nicely into the best key change of the entire Eurovision season, national finals included, and puts such a smile on my face. It might not make me want to get up and party like Feker Libi does, but it’s just so uplifting and enjoyable, and you can’t help but dance along a little. It’s also got some great lyrics which are a genuine expression of love for his daughter. I was worried the staging might make it seem a little goofy, but the overall internet reaction has been really positive, and the whole performance is just a lot of fun.

1. Lithuania – On Fire

And finally, my favourite song of this year. The perfect combination of a slick instrumental production with a real soul. The message of never being too old to live is great, and that instrumental line on the drop is just infectious. I also actually really like the way the lead singer sings, it’s a little rough but it compliments the backing track perfectly. This song absolutely stands out on it’s own but it is elevated by the staging. It’s definitely one of the best staged performances of the national final season, ‘winner vibes’ might not be the most helpful term, but this was the performance that really gave me them. We’ll never know who would have won this year, there were certainly options, but I do feel for Lithuania as this was their big chance to snatch their fist win. I don’t know if The Roop will come back next year, but I do worry that this was lightning in a bottle, I’ve listened to some of their other songs and they’re very good, but everything about this was perfect, from the song, to the staging, to the performance, and it’s going to be very hard to replicate.

Overall, I found this year a little less interesting than last year, with a lot of songs in the grey ‘this is fine’ zone, but there were plenty of songs that did stand out, and five that I truly love and look forward to listening to for years to come, as part of the Eurovision canon.

[missbrightsky]

Velaris National Park

Fics Masterlist

Chapter 1

Green light filtered through the canopy, patches of gold peppering the road ahead. Rolled down windows allowed the late spring air weave through the car, carrying the scent of growing things and warmth to wrap around us.

Elain had some 2000s pop station pouring from the speakers, all of us belting out the familiar words to our audience of Mother Nature. Nesta had called shotgun at the beginning, leaving me to have the back seat to stretch out, propping my feet on the bag that held our borrowed tent.

It was May in Prythian, warm and good and green. I had just graduated from my master’s program in Art History, my whole future stretching out ahead of me. Elain had insisted we celebrate but all of us were in educational debt and couldn’t afford to fly anywhere. Ever the florist, she found a state park a few hours away that boasted the largest collection of wildflowers in the country, one especially that bloomed once every three years. And because Elain was always lucky, this year was one of the few that it blooms in full.

A few days after graduation, she managed to wrangle Nesta away from the publishing house and me away from my couch and stuffed us all into her 2005 Honda.

Velaris National Park

Turn off 5 miles

Elain’s singing broke off mid-verse, a squeal replacing the lyrics as she pointed out the sign. I could only smile at her excitement; camping was never really our family’s thing, but her happiness was too infectious. At least I had managed to throw my sketchbook and watercolor pencils into my bag before she dragged me out the door. It had been a while since I had done some wildlife sketching, there was not a lot of green space or biodiversity in the city.

She turned down the music while Nesta and I straightened in our seats, ready to hop out of the car and get blood flowing back into our legs.

Even Nesta who normally tolerated Elain’s antics had a ghost of a smile playing around her lips, the fresh air loosening her iron grip on her emotions.

Elain slowed the car, turning right before the massive stone wall that announced the entrance to the park, gravel crunching under the tires.

The rough road weaved with the terrain, up and down and curving around hills and patches of meadows that peaked through the trees. We even rumbled over a wooden bridge that spanned the banks of a sparkling stream, the water throwing shimmering rainbows into the air.

A low log cabin-like building greeted us, its small parking lot only holding a Jeep with the park logo on the side and another car.

Elain turned the car off and all of us popped our doors open, slightly stumbling as our legs reacclimated to moving. Small groans slipped out of our mouths as we stretched feeling back into our lower halves, taking in the new environment.

A small sign in the window informed us of the park’s office hours and the emergency phone line. Elain pushed in first, a petite ding announcing our arrival.

The inside was a simple, square room, half the room stocked with souvenirs and anything campers may need in a pinch. A long, low counter ran along the back wall with an open doorway hinting at the back room. This was where a perky blonde emerged, greeting them with a bright smile. Her long hair was braided down her back, a forest green polo stamped with the logo somehow accented her curves instead of looking dorky and too stiff.

“Hi! Welcome to Velaris National Park. I’m Mor, what can I help y’all with today?”

“Hello! I’m Elain and these are my sisters Nesta and Feyre,” she gestured to each of us in turn, we all shook her hand, surprised to find it calloused and strong.

“How long do y’all plan on staying?”

“Two nights, please. And if you can point out on a map where the Starfall flower will be blooming?”

Mor laughed, a grin splitting her mouth. “I should’ve guessed, this is some of our busiest weeks of the year. Well, you’re in luck, we have only a few campsites left. Any preference to where?”

“None at all, we’re not too picky.”

“Perfect, how about y’all take site 20. It’s near the trailheads and not too far from the bathrooms.”

Elain turned to confirm with us, we each nodded back. Our lack of experience had us indifferent to where we camped, as long as it wasn’t out in the middle of nowhere.

Elain and Mor exchanged money and maps, paying for our spot and pointing out the major landmarks of the park.

“We do allow fires, as long as they’re in the designated fire pits. Please use the trash cans we have all along the park, anyone caught littering can be fined up to 200 dollars along with not being allowed to revisit the park. No glass or alcohol on park grounds. If y’all need anything, please don’t hesitate to call up to here the main office, and the numbers for our rangers are on the maps, along with the emergency line. Further into the park, cell service can get a little spotty, but as long as you stay near the trails, our rangers can spot you if you get into trouble. A little tip, don’t feed the wildlife, we have them on a diet,” she finished with a laugh and a wink. We laughed along with her, it was easy to feel a friendship forming with the bright woman.

“Well if that’s all y’all need, just keep following the road and you’ll see the signs pointing out the campsite. Parking gets a bit limited so try not to double park.”

We thanked her and headed out to pile back into the car.

As we were pulling out and getting back onto the road, I spotted one of the rangers on top of a horse.

The animal was tall, taller than any of the horses I had ever encountered before, and blacker than the deepest night sky. Its rider was sitting perfectly still, used to having to blend into the background.

I stifled a gasp. The ranger was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I was too far away to see the color of his eyes, but they peeked through the leaves, boring into mine. His shoulders were broad, covered with a khaki shirt, he gripped the horse with powerful legs clad in dark green pants that were tucked into wore brown boots.

Our car soon turned a corner, breaking my gaze from his, banishing me of the spell he had cast.

More gorgeous forest passed us by, feeding my artist's mind with texture and light and color. Maybe this trip would replenish my weary mind after years of rigorous study. I loved every minute of my classes, but it left little free time for drawing and painting.

Wooden signs ticked up, eventually indicating where our sight was. Once again parking, we exited the car and took in the scenery.

We were to share a small common area with a few other campers, picnic tables and grills dotting the grassy area. Two cars were already parked there, brightly colored tents peeking out from the bushes that gave each sight a bit of privacy. Under a massive oak tree, there was a ring of rocks that held gray and black ashes from prior fires, stumps surrounding it for us to sit and enjoy the company.

I grabbed the tent from the backseat and slung my pack over my shoulder, leading the way to the small clearing that would be our home for the next few days. It was simply packed dirt, slightly raised from the rest of the ground so that if it rained, our tent would not get flooded.

I had never set up a tent before but with the instructions from the bag combined with the store owners’ tips, it was soon popped up in no time. Maybe only slightly leaning to the left but that would be a problem for later.

Nesta had pulled out our coolers of food, prepping sandwiches for a late lunch. Elain was already off in the surrounding area, making notes of the greenery and wildflowers that grew nearby. It was not the elusive Starfall but it did not take much for her to get wrapped up in flora.

Satisfied at my work, I tossed our bags into the tent and zipped it up. We could unpack after a bit of exploring.

Joining Nesta at the table, I swiped one of the completed sandwiches, ignoring her protest to wait for Elain. She was the one who refused to stop for lunch so she would just have to get the next one.

My fingers itched to start drawing the massive oak tree, its complex branches and multicolored leaves begging to be noticed and put onto paper. My stomach, however, told me it can wait.

Nesta somehow pulled Elain away from a blue flower, convincing her that it won’t disappear in the next 15 minutes.

“So, what’s first on the agenda, sis?” I asked her.

“Well it is getting a little late so I don’t want to go too far before it gets dark, but I thought we could start with one of the short trails!” Elain radiated energy, feeding off the teeming forest around us.

I smiled back at her, excited to start cataloging the world around us. We finished off the sandwiches and repacked the coolers into the car. One thing we all learned from watching TV was to not let wild animals get into a camper’s stash of food.

A quick trip into the tent had us changed into t-shirts, shorts and tennis shoes with light jackets tied to our waists. Even with Prythian warming up, the nights could still get a bit cool.

Elain consulted the map Mor gave us, confidently leading us to the first trailhead. It was only two miles long and would introduce us to the wildlife we could see in the park.

Every few hundred feet, plastic signs would pop up, listing fun facts about the park and giving an example of some of its inhabitants. Some would show a burst of color followed by the flower’s common name, scientific name and any medicinal or historical facts about it. Others would tell you how to spot an animal camouflaged in the surrounding foliage.

We all talked and joked with each other, with no tension that usually accompanied us when we got together. Nesta told us a story about an author that tried to sneak in her friends’ manuscript that turned out to be an awful rendition of Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey. By the end, all of us were in stitches and barely able to walk, clinging onto tree trunks and each other in an attempt to stay upright.

Just as the sky was glowing orange and pink, the trail delivered us back to the beginning of the campsites, all we had to do was follow the gravel road back to ours.

The smell of meat and potatoes set our stomachs growling, the sandwiches from earlier long gone from the hike and laughter.

The other campers that were out earlier had returned.

“Howdy!” one of the men shouted at us waving his arm. He looked to be in his late fifties with combed back salt and pepper hair, sporting cargo pants and a navy long sleeve to ward off any wayward cool breezes.

We all gave back nervous smiles, unsure of who our neighbors were.

“Kevin,” a voice scolded, “you can’t just yell at unsuspecting young girls.” The source of the admonishment appeared from the bushes.

“Sorry about my husband, he’s just excited to have more company,” a man apologized. He also looked to be in his fifties, a bit shorter than Mike but leaner. Dark brown skin was covered in matching cargo pants, but a faded Prythian U sweatshirt covered his torso.

“I’m Raymond, this is our third night at the park.”

We tried not to look too relieved as we shook his hand. All of us had experience taking care of ourselves but we were in the middle of a national park with the other nearest humans about 50 yards down the road.

Kevin looked appropriately sheepish as he came to greet us. “Sorry about that, I am excited to have more company. The couple that’s over there just keeps glaring at us and avoids us like the plague.” His words were playful enough but there was a deeper sadness buried in his eyes as if he was used to this sort of treatment.

“Well it’s awesome to meet you,” Elain gushed, ever the social butterfly. “I’m Elain and these are my sisters, Nesta and Feyre. We’re here in celebration of Feyre graduating!”

“Congratulations! Where from?” Raymond asked.

“Well you’re actually wearing my college right now,” I replied with a smile. There were tons of people who went to Pryth U but it was always fun to meet someone who graduated there in the past.

I fell into conversation with Ray, who insisted on using the shorter version of his name about the campus and how much it has changed from when he was there. He was an engineering major but still asked me a million questions about the art history department and why I wanted to get my masters there. Elain roped Kevin into a debate about botany and the best soil for growing tulips in. It sounded like he was also in the flower business and was here to see the blooming of Starfalls.

Nesta was never one to make easy friends and opted to start our dinner, taking over the grill next to Kevin’s. Tonight was burgers with potato chips and then s’mores for dessert that would be roasted over the campfire.

Dinner was full of lively conversation under the night sky. We were far enough away from the city’s light pollution that we were able to make out constellations that we had only read about and see the dusting of galaxies that spanned the sky.

“And that’s when the professor realized he had designed a system that looked exactly like a dick!” We burst out laughing at the end of Ray’s story from his time in college, even Nesta couldn’t keep her giggles contained at the raunchy tale.

Our cheeks were rosy from the fire that crackled happily before us, the smell of burnt marshmallow filling the air. As perfect as Nesta was at everything, it took her a few tries to get the timing and distance right for roasting.

“Sounds like I missed a hell of a tale,” the new midnight voice sent shivers down my spine.

“Ah! Rhys! I was wondering when you would show up,” Kevin greeted the newcomer. “Where are Cas and Az?”

The figure stepped into the ring of light and perched on an open stump beside Feyre. I forced myself not to freeze and stare at him. It was the same man I saw on top of the horse.

Closer up I could see how his dark hair shone blue in the firelight, no longer hidden beneath the Mountie hat he wore earlier.

He shifted his body to angle slightly towards me, catching my eyes with his. They were so blue they seemed to be an impossible violet, sparking with hidden laughter at an inside joke. “They’re right behind me,” he said without breaking eye contact with me.

I forced my eyes to drop to the page I was intermittently sketching on. I was lucky that I had started a new outline of the stream we passed on the way in instead of still having the sketch of him on his horse open. Hopefully the blush that was already on my cheeks hid the new blood that was rushing there.

“What was all that laughing about? I hope someone was making fun of Rhys,” another male voice called out as he came into view. He was tall and even more well-muscled than the man beside me but had his dark hair pulled into a low bun on the nape of his neck and his eyes glowed amber.

Rhys broke his stare at me to twist to the man, “No, I was telling them about the time you got stuck in what you thought was quicksand but turned out to be just a massive mud pit,” he shot back. The group laughed at the retort, including me while trying to shake off my embarrassment.

He pouted at the memory, “Aw com’on, you promised you would stop bringing that up.”

“Never in your dreams, brother.”

“Cas, come sit by me and have a s’more, I’m sure you thought you were right at the time,” Kevin teased, offering a marshmallow already speared on a stick. Cas threw one more sulky look at Rhys and walked over to where Kevin and Nesta were sitting. Nesta sized up the addition, bracing herself for interaction.

Cas saw her reaction, immediately forgetting his brother’s teasing. There was a new opponent to spare with. He aimed a feral grin at her, spurring her to narrow her eyes at his assessment.

A final figure, presumably Az, emerged from the dark, almost as if melting from it. He nodded a polite greeting to the group opting to stand near Ray and Elain. It took no time at all for her sister to draw him into a conversation about what all she can see at the park and if she was allowed to take any wildflower clippings home to preserve.

I turned back to my book, darkening the path the water took over, around and through the stones on the creek bed. The weight of Rhys’s gaze settled over me, making me tighten my grip on the pencil.

“You’re a good artist,” he remarked.

I smiled slightly in his direction. “I would hope so, I staked most of my career on it.”

“You do this professionally?”

“Well, I hope so someday,” I admitted, “I just graduated with a master’s in art history.”

“Really? Congrats. What’s next for you?”

He finally succeeded in pulling me away from the drawing, meeting his gaze again, looking for any sign of mockery at my chosen path. Most heard the words “art history” and assumed I would become a starving artist or elementary art school teacher.

There was no trace of judgment in his face, only open curiosity.

“In my dreams, I would open up my own studio, maybe a few galleries. For now, I’ve applied to a few museums as a curator and I have an interview with one of them next week.”

“I hope it goes well, anyone who can draw that well must know a thing or two about Picasso.”

I barked a laugh at his statement, “I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong you are,” giggling my way through the sentence. “You won’t believe the number of students I met who couldn’t tell the difference between Picasso and their own ass.”

His eyes flashed with surprise, followed by laughter rich and clear as a bell spilling from his mouth. “I can believe it, I’ve met my fair share of idiots in this world.”

“I bet, being a park ranger must set you up for a whole slew of idiots who watched one episode of Bear Grylls and thinks they can survive out here with nothing more than their wits.”

His face jokingly darkened, “Do. Not. Get. Me. Started.”

“Please, start,” my sketch was now long forgotten, pulled into his expressive voice and body. He wove the tale of a couple that thought they could go all Naked and Afraid only 20 feet off the trail, managing to get as far as cutting down a few trees to start a shelter before another camper contacted them and they were able to stop them from scarring any more people.

My cheeks hurt from the constant smiling and laughter, unable to stop myself from leaning closer to catch every detail.

By the end of his story, our knees were brushing each other every few seconds, both of us catching our breath. He paused at the end, taking the small bubble we had trapped ourselves in.

His eyes dipped to brush my lips before meeting mine again. My breath caught in my throat at the intensity of his gaze, heat blooming across my cheeks and down my neck. Our shared air was sweet with chocolate and heavy with anticipation…

A hiss startled us apart.

Across the fire, Nesta looked to be about two seconds away from slapping Cas, fury twisting her face into a knot. Cas looked like he was the cat that got the cream, lazily reclining against the stump, looking up into her wrathful face.

“And that’s our queue,” Rhys muttered under his breath. “It was wonderful to talk with you. I’ll see you around the park.”

I blinked a few times, mentally shaking myself out of the trance he put me in. “Uh, yeah sure, see you around.”

“Cas, Az,” his voice was sharp, “We need to go to the next campsite. Thank you for the s’mores and have a good evening everyone.” He pulled his brothers away, retreating into the dark. From the blackness came the sound of a sharp slap and angry words being whispered.

Everyone exchanged awkward looks at their departure. Nesta was still fuming, glaring at the direction they disappeared in. Feyre and Elain knew better that the question her on what Cas said, knowing it would only infuriate her more.

“It’s been a long day, and we have a lot of hiking tomorrow,” I broke through the tension, “I’m off to bed.” Elain and Nesta got up to join me, bidding Kevin and Raymond good night and that they’ll see them for breakfast.

Elain and I exchanged worried looks behind Nesta’s back, but it would be better to let her sleep it off. She was quick to anger but given time, could squash it back down.

We all climbed into the tent, leaving our shoes by the door. It was colder away from the fire, so we didn’t waste time layering on warmer clothes and crawling into our respective sleeping bags.

I fell asleep with purple eyes burning behind my eyelids, chasing me through my fitful dreams.

Next Chapter

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Twenty-One: Prank ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi, Nohara Rin ] [ Verse: A Tear in Time ] [ Previous || Next ]

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh!”

“Nuh UH!”

“Yeah HUH!”

Sitting on a half wall nearby, both Ryū and Rin watch with deadpanned expressions as - yet again - Obito and Kakashi devolve into an argument. You couldn’t even ask the girls what it was about - it really doesn’t matter. Once the pair of them start, there’s really no stopping it.

“You think they’d get tired of this by now,” Rin mumbles, watching as Kakashi folds his arms stubbornly, completely ignoring all of Obito’s frantic gestures.

While Rin looks all too fed up with the pair and ready to let them have it out, Ryū can’t help a bit of worry in her gaze. “You don’t think they’ll actually start fighting again, do you?”

“It might come to that. But they’re just so stubborn, they won’t listen! It’s like trying to pull two cats apart - you’ll just get scratched.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, Ryū-chan. They’ll figure it o-”

The girls both flinch as Obito suddenly gets knocked to his backside with a grunt. An attempt to shove Kakashi is all too easily countered, and the Hatake looks over his fellow student with narrow eyes.

“Give it up, dead last. You couldn’t beat me in a hundred years. Whoever ends up with you on their team is doomed.”

Red in the face in embarrassment, Obito grits his teeth. “Better than ending up on yours and dealing with your attitude!”

“Guys, come on,” Rin wearily attempts to interject, keeping her seat as Ryū moves to help Obito up. “If you’re going to do nothing but argue, why don’t you just stay away from one another?”

“Because he won’t stop following me and trying to pick a fight,” Kakashi replies, giving a thumbs down.

“Cuz you’re a coward who won’t give me a proper spar!” Obito snaps back, ignoring Ryū as she kneels next to him. An accusatory finger points. “You’re just scared I’ll beat ya! And then you’ll have nothin’ left to say!”

“More like I don’t want to waste my time,” Kakashi counters flatly. “If all you’re gonna do is whine, I’m leaving. I’ve got better things to do.”

As he walks off, Rin hops off the wall, making to follow and attempt to cool his temper.

Obito, in the meantime, wilts with a sigh. “...why’s he gotta be such a jerk?”

Softening, Ryū murmurs, “...some people just have sour attitudes. And...well, Kakashi-kun has a reason, right?”

“So? I never even got to meet my parents! I don’t walk around all high and mighty!”

Offering a hand, Ryū helps Obito back to his feet. “Well...everyone does what they do for a reason. But...Rin-chan has a point, ne? If you guys bicker so much, shouldn’t you just...leave each other alone…?”

“I just wanna wipe that smug look off his face,” Obito mutters, adjusting his goggles. “He doesn’t respect me, he thinks I’m worthless!”

“Well...do you think you’re worthless?”

“No!”

“Then why does Kakashi-kun’s opinion matter? You don’t even like him!”

“But he’s...he…!”

As Obito flounders, Ryū’s head tilts. “Is it...because you want to prove you’re stronger than him?”

“Y...yeah!”

“But Obito-kun...you’re already strong! And wouldn’t it be better to want to improve against yourself instead of someone else? Be better than you were yesterday!”

He folds his arms, head ducking between his shoulders a bit. “...maybe…”

After a pause, Ryū giggles into a sleeve. “You just want to prove him wrong, ne?”

“I just don’t like his attitude! Someone’s gotta take him down a notch…” Blinking, Obito then brightens. “Wait...I’ve got an idea…!”

“...eh?” Watching Obito take off, Ryū hesitates a moment before following. “W-wait, Obito-kun!”

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the Academy, class already let out for the day. The building is still open as teachers work on lesson plans and correcting homework. Sneaking down the hallway, he makes his way into an empty classroom, gesturing for Ryū to follow.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a little prank, nothing bad!”

“A prank…?”

“Y’know, something to make fun of him a little! Here...I’ll show you.” Taking a stool, Obito sets it by the door before grabbing one of the erasers from the chalkboard. Standing up atop the seat, he holds the eraser over the door, sliding it closed and holding the eraser in place. Snickering, he then hops down.

Ryū tilts her head, perking a brow.

“All we gotta do is get him to come through the door, and when he opens it...poof! It’ll fall on his head and get chalk dust everywhere!”

“...oh!” She barely withholds a snort, hiding her smile behind her sleeve. “Are you sure he won’t get mad…?”

“Eh, Kakashi’s always mad. All I wanna do is knock him down a few pegs! It’s not like it’ll hurt him.”

“But...how do we get him to come…?”

That makes Obito stop and think, a hand at his chin. “...why don’t you go tell him I want to apologize to him, for earlier. That I’ll meet him in here! You can go out the window, I’ll wait here for you guys.”

“Okay…!” Slipping out through the pane, she spreads her budding sensory skill to try and find where Kakashi and Rin wandered off to. Eventually, she manages to find them along one of the main roads, approaching and flagging them down. “Kakashi-kun! Ne, wait up!”

The pair turn, Kakashi looking at her warily. “What?”

Okay, time to test her acting skills. “I’ve been talking to Obito-kun, and trying to get him to calm down. He said he’d meet you in the Academy and he’d apologize.”

“Obito? Apologize?” The Hatake scoffs. “That’s unlikely.”

“Well, he’s waiting at the Academy…”

“I’m not going. He’s probably just going to start complaining all over again.”

“Kakashi,” Rin gently chides. “You guys have to put things behind you one of these days!”

Ryū glances between them, a small knot in her stomach at the fib. She feels bad about lying, but...well, it’s not like anyone will get hurt. It’s just a little prank…

“Just go see what he wants. If he argues with you again, leave and ignore him. But isn’t it worth at least seeing if you can start to patch things up?”

For a moment he goes quiet...and then sighs. “All right, fine. But he’s getting an earful if he wastes my time…” Hands shoved in his pockets, he leads the little trio toward the Academy. “What room is he in?”

“Um...I think it was four…?”

They enter through the front door, following the hallway to the proper room. Ryū brings up the tail end of the group, nibbling a thumbnail nervously. Hopefully Kakashi doesn’t get mad…

Gripping the edge of the ajar door, he pulls it open, asking, “All right dead last, what do you -?”

Poomph.

With a cloud of chalk, the eraser impacts right on the very top of Kakashi’s head before clattering to the floor. Dust falls down onto his shoulders, blending into the grey of his hair.

Rin stares with wide eyes, Ryū bringing up hands over her mouth.

Within the classroom, Obito starts howling with laughter. “Hahaha! I got you! I got you! You totally fell for the oldest trick in the book! Who’s mister look underneath the underneath now, huh? Huh?”

Kakashi, however, hasn’t moved, hand still resting on the door. Staring, Ryū can feel his chakra stirring angrily.

“You...are such a child,” he growls. “Here I thought you’d finally grown up a bit and decided to actually apologize, and instead you prank me? No wonder you’re such a loser - you waste more time on useless crap like this than actually training!”

“...Kakashi…?” Rin attempts to cut in softly, flinching as he spins around.

“Forget it. I’m done with you, dead last. You’re just a little kid who will never mature into a shinobi. You’ll always be worthless!”

“Kakashi!” As he stalks back out of the building, Rin follows, a hand on his shoulder thrown off before he flickers out of sight. “Kakashi, wait -!”

Watching, Ryū feels her stomach sink, glancing back as Obito steps through the door. His own expression looks hesitant.

“...I…”

Unsure what to say, she just wilts.

A moment of silence passes, and then Obito’s face pinches into a scowl. “Tch…!” Like Kakashi, he runs out through the front door, Rin long gone in pursuit.

“W-wait!” Ryū in turn follows Obito until they make it to one of the training grounds, where he slows to a stop and folds on his knees. “...Obito-kun…?”

“...I really s-screwed up...didn’t I…?”

Hearing the hiccup in his voice, she hesitates a moment before easing her way closer. “...w-well...Kakashi-kun’s patience was already pretty thin…”

“Why is he always right…? I’m a dead last...but no matter how much I train, no matter how hard I work, I never get any closer…! He’s always so far ahead of me, and it’s like it doesn’t take him any effort at all! It isn’t fair…”

Expression falling, Ryū steps up beside him, sinking to her knees and folding her hands atop her lap. “Obito-kun...we all have our own talents, ne? I mean...look at me. I’m not very good at anything we learn in class except chakra control and healing ninjutsu. I can’t use elemental jutsu very well, and I’m not very strong. But...I’m still good at something!”

“Then what am I supposed to be good at?”

“I think you’re good at a lot of things! I’ve seen you train, Obito.” She drops the honorific, tone softening. “You’re right...you work very hard. And you’ve improved a lot…! I’ve seen it! Maybe it’s harder for you to see because you aren’t looking at yourself. You’re looking at Kakashi. But Obito...if you looked behind you, and saw how far you’ve come...I bet you’d be really proud of yourself.” Risking a glance over, her cheeks dust a light pink. “...I’m very proud of you.”

He doesn’t look convinced, shifting his posture to sit and hug his knees to his chest.

“...and you said it yourself, Kakashi’s attitude stinks.” Her nose wrinkles. “But you? You’re one of the sweetest people I know, Obito. You work hard, and you help others, and you always have a smile on your face.” Gently, she jostles against his side, trying to cheer him up. “You make me smile! You’re funny, and you care about how others feel.

“So what if Kakashi is a better shinobi? I think, in a lot of ways that really count, you’re becoming a much better person than he is. If he keeps treating people the way he does, he’ll never have any friends, and he’ll always be alone. But you have a much more pleasant way about you than he does. In the long run...I think that will make you a lot happier than anything else...ne?”

Staring at the ground, Obito glances up her as she tilts to look at him expectantly. “...you’re really...proud of me?”

“Of course I am! You’ve had a really tough time, but you don’t let it keep you down. You still work hard in pursuit of your dream to be Hokage! And I bet someday, you’ll get there. So don’t worry about Kakashi. He’ll always do what he’s going to do. There’s not much you can do to change that, so...you just focus on reaching your goal. And I’ll be rooting for you! And help you in any way I can, even if...I’m not very strong,” Ryū offers, looking aside sheepishly.

“Well...you said it yourself, not everyone has to be strong, right?” He manages a small grin. “I guess since Rin’s always keeping an eye on Kakashi...you can patch me up. Then I can work twice as hard, and get twice as far!”

Hearing him perk up, Ryū nonetheless gets a little pinker. “Y...yeah!” Her eyes close with a rosy-cheeked smile. “We’ll be a team! You get to practice your shinobi skills, and I’ll get some healing practice!”

“And then you’ll be the best healer in the whole village! Even better than Tsunade! And when I’m Hokage, you’ll run the hospital, and together we’ll keep everybody safe!”

Chest warming as Obito’s spirit returns, Ryū feels a small flutter within it. ...together…

Then Obito hops to his feet, knees bent and fists clenched. “So Kakashi thinks I don’t work hard enough, huh…? I’ll show him! I’ll start right now!”

“N-now?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay!” Ryū scurries out of the way, watching as Obito starts flicking shuriken into the training posts, taking breaks between volleys to do push ups.

Not expecting him to change moods again so quickly, Ryū just watches in surprise for a few moments before softening into a smile. Well, if Obito’s going to work hard...then she will too! After all, someone’s going to have to keep an eye on him and make sure he rests when he needs to.

...together…!

     *sweats* My first foray into canon same gen AU stuff! I actually wanna write a mini fic about it, mostly just cuz of one reallllly angsty idea I have for one particular scene, but...that's not what we're talking about now!      This AU just seems a LITTLE hard to pull off due to, well...how things are in canon with Obito liking Rin and Rin liking Kakashi. Adding Ryū into it crushing on Obito just makes it into Naruto's gen all over again, with Hinata, Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke xD I have SOME ideas of how to subtly shifts things a bit to make it a LITTLE more open, but that would take...a LOT more build up than I wanna do for a daily, lol      So this is more just general fluff (with just a SPRINKLE of angst) to kinda...test run things a bit, I guess! Maybe I'll do more later, it all just kinda...depends. I have so many WIPs :'D      But that's all for now! Thanks for reading~

[teenybeanielinguine]

Outlander Season 5 - A Girl Can Dream

 It’s been a little over two weeks since the Season 4 finale... and DAMN, the withdrawal is hitting me hard.  I’ve rewatched all my favorite scenes, re-read all my favorite passages, and scoured Tumblr for every piece of fanfiction available.  But nothing seems capable of filling the Outlander-shaped void in my heart.

Since I clearly have nothing better to do (not true; there are A LOT of other things I should be doing), I’ve decided to grace you all with my unsolicited thoughts (no need to thank me).  Season 5 has no announced release date, but I’m not known for my patience, so I’m hopping on the crazy train a little early.  Destination: The Fiery Cross. (Spoilers ahead.)

About The Fiery Cross

I’ve read quite a few posts that label Drums of Autumn as the pivotal point in the series.  I respectfully disagree.

DoA felt like the next step in a gradual evolution.  It’s true that Bree and Roger gained their independence from the J/C plotline in DoA, but DG had been prepping us for this divergence for quite a while.  Claire was our only narrator in Outlander, and while she remains the only 1st person POV, other characters have been quietly adding their voices to hers.  Roger joined her in Dragonfly in Amber, followed by Jamie and John Grey in Voyager, and we finally get Brianna in Drums of Autumn (that’s RIGHT: in the main books, we hear Roger’s POV before we ever hear Jamie’s).  Because of these constantly expanding POVs, DoA just felt like a natural progression, rather than a huge departure from the status quo.

The Fiery Cross, on the other hand, feels like a turning point.  Not only is it the first book to not get a newly added POV, but the story starts to get a little... unpredictable.

All of the books have a fair amount of twistiness and unpredictability, but our characters have pretty clear goals in each installation so far: get back to the stones, save Jamie from Black Jack, prevent the Rising, prevent Culloden, make Brianna believe the truth, find Jamie after 20 years, rescue Young Ian, establish the Ridge, warn Jamie and Claire about the fire, rescue Roger...  I know I’m generalizing here, but you get the point.  Our heroes all have clearly defined end goals, and they’re putting all their energy into achieving them, despite the twists and turns that DG throws their way.  The characters may not always succeed, but you, the reader, always know where the story is headed.

By the start of The Fiery Cross, the goals are a little broader, more nebulous.  There may be unrest in North Carolina, the American Revolution may be looming in the distance, but basically the Fraser family just wants to live in peace on the Ridge.  That’s it.  No daring rescues, no dramatic reunions; they just want some peace and quiet.  Of course, they aren’t going to get it, because this is Outlander-verse, where Murphy’s Law is on steroids.

So the Frasers play it by ear, taking on every new challenge as it comes.  There is no clear path forward, they just have to react as best they can to the events around them.  In consequence, the reader gets a series of smaller meandering stories, with the distinct feeling that something bigger is happening in the background.  I personally love this, because I have no clue what’s going to happen next, so when something big happens, it takes me completely by surprise.  And you get to see the characters just exist in day-to-day life, which is the best.  Some of the characters still have personal goals (spoiler alert: Stephen Bonnet definitely did NOT die in that explosion), but the pursuit of those goals isn’t driving the story nearly as much as in past installments.

This is all to say that, while Season 5 is going to have to hit some major plot points, there is (in my opinion) a fair amount of breathing room for interpretation, and lots of fun to be had.  I’m fascinated to see the show tackle this new challenge.

My Wish List for Season 5

When I say “wish list”, I don’t mean to imply a series of demands.  I have no creative control over the adaptation, and I’m not listing these wishes in the vain hope that someone on the production team will notice.  This is just for fun, and I will be perfectly content if none of these make it into the show.  Also, not all of these are pulled from the book; some of them are just things I would love to see.

So here are my top ten wishes, in no particular order:

Roger the Fangirl.  In the midst of all the Roger-hate this past season, the OL fandom has forgotten one crucial fact: Roger is the ultimate J/C shipper.  This romantic idiot is the whole reason that Claire went back in time to find Jamie!  You’d think Jamie’s fists would have beaten the ship right out of Roger, but if last season proves anything, it’s that Roger doesn’t give up easily.  He’s gonna keep shipping like his life depends on it, and there are some really cute moments in TFC where he fangirls over how adorable Jamie and Claire are together (also, Jamie is going to become his new idol).  I suppose it would be unrealistic to hope that he and Murtagh form a fan club next season...?

Brothers and Sisters.  Am I the only one who wanted to scream when Brianna and Fergus were right next to each other in the Wilmington jail and they didn’t acknowledge each other?  By the end of S4, we don’t even know whether Fergus and Marsali know about Bree’s existence (I mean, Fergus helped capture Bonnet, but he and Marsali didn’t say a word about Bree), and that frustrates me to no end.  The books skipped over the getting-to-know-you stuff too, which is crazy considering that they are siblings (adopted or not)!  I would kill for a scene where Jamie and Claire are struggling to explain why they have a fully-grown daughter, as well as some bonding time between siblings.  Bree and Marsali are definitely going to get along, cause badass women stick together.

The Snake Bite.  The snake bite incident (aftermath included) is one of my favorite sequences in TFC.  It brings Roger and Jamie closer together, it shows the courage of the Fraser women in a crisis, and it rallies the entire Ridge community in their worry for Jamie.  I suppose it’s sadistic of me, but I loved watching everyone freak out when they thought Jamie was going to die or lose a leg.  And then the 20th century women come to the rescue!  An entire episode dedicated to that whole plotline would be amazing.

Grannie and Grand-da.  Claire and Jamie are not only adorable as grandparents, they’re relatable AF.  They might love their new grandson to pieces, but that’s not going to stop them from being honest about the realities of childcare.  Jamie in particular is hilarious; he builds an entire house at top speed to get away from the screeching baby (and his newly reunited parents), and then he compares Bree unflatteringly to the white sow (not to her face, of course; see Chapter 30 for a good laugh).  I’d love to see that side of Jamie and Claire next season.

Wolf’s Brother.  We might have said a tearful goodbye to Young Ian in the S4 finale, but we haven’t seen the last of him.  My guess is that he’s going to make a dramatic reappearance in the S5 finale, but I really hope we see him before then.  Showing Young Ian’s time among the Mohawk would give Outlander a chance to showcase the amazing First Nations actors that appeared in S4 (Braeden Clarke, anyone?) as well as explore how Ian slowly blends his Highland upbringing with Mohawk customs.

Claire the Science Nerd.  So far all of Claire’s medical expertise has been utilized in life-or-death situations, but establishing a medical practice on the Ridge gives her the opportunity to geek out over plants and experiment in reproducing 20th century medicine in the 18th century.  Over the course of TFC, she gives genetics lessons, performs two tonsillectomies, and produces penicillin (among other things).  This passion for her craft is one of the reasons I love Claire so much.  And her nerd moments aren’t always serious: one of my favorite scenes in the book features Claire and her microscope giving Jamie a hilarious lesson in reproductive biology.

Fraser’s Ridge.  We didn’t get to see much of the Ridge community in S4, although Jamie did allude to the farmers who contributed the grain to make whisky.  The community is comprised of a growing array of Scottish immigrants, and the drama they bring to Claire and Jamie’s lives wavers between amusing and disastrous.  I don’t think the show will have time to explore the entire cast of characters, but I’m hoping to see Thomas Christie and his children introduced, at least.  I’ve always found Tom Christie a strangely compelling character; his children, on the other hand, are nothing more than a necessary evil.  I also really hope we meet the twins, Josiah and Keziah Beardsley (Lizzie’s story is about to get really interesting).

The MacKenzie Bloodline.  Despite all the time-traveling she’s been doing, Claire has yet to meet any of her ancestors (that we know of...  DG might be holding out on us).  Roger, on the other hand, is not going to be so lucky (if you’ve read all eight books, you’ll know that Roger runs into his ancestors A LOT).  By the end of S4, I’m not sure Jamie is aware that his daughter is married to Geillis Duncan and Dougal MacKenzie’s descendant, but I wanna be there when he and Murtagh find out (a perfect opportunity for some good dialogue and tension).  And while Roger may be able to explain his ancestry to Jamie and Murtagh (both of whom are fully aware of the existence of time travel), he’s not going to be able to give the same explanation to Jocasta.  In the beginning of TFC, there’s a really great conversation between Jocasta and Roger where Jocasta is kinda fishing around for clues about Roger’s family.  Roger, of course, can’t tell her that he’s actually her great-great-grandnephew (give or take a few ‘great’s).  My hope is that the show includes some version of this conversation and continues to play around with Roger’s MacKenzie heritage (and all its implications).

Future Talk.  With three time-travelers in the family, there’s bound to be some discussion of the future.  Especially with the tension mounting in North Carolina and Murtagh aligning himself with the Regulators.  I am yearning for some deep discussion between Jamie, Murtagh, and the travelers about the events to come.  I have a hunch that either Claire or Bree has already informed Murtagh about the American Revolution, based on a comment he made to Jocasta about a “different ending”, but I want to see it actually played out on screen.  The interplay between the characters who know the future and those who don’t is fascinating to me, and I want more of it.

Jamie the Protector.  Jamie’s protective instincts have had some disastrous consequences this past season, but he is going to redeem himself next season.  Early on in TFC, Jamie claims Roger as the “son of his house”, and he proceeds to stand by that claim throughout the book, especially in the aftermath of Roger’s wrongful hanging at the hands of Governor Tryon.  This time, Jamie’s protective feelings aren’t going to result in a beating, though it’s a close call.  I love this shift, from Jamie beating Roger to Jamie protecting/avenging Roger; it’s a very satisfying development.

Bonus: Geese.  Brianna and Roger may have a child together, but they have never lived together as a married couple.  They also don’t have very much experience being in a serious relationship (S4 showed us that they really don’t know how to argue properly).  However, they have both grown up quite a bit since their hand fasting, and you get to see them learning how to coexist in Chapter 33 of TFC.  It’s a great scene, where Roger’s just come back with the militia, and he and Bree have a meaningless fight because she hasn’t had it easy since the militia left.  But they resolve their argument peacefully as Bree vents her frustrations to Roger and gives him a drawing of some geese as a Christmas present.  A really wonderful everyday moment.

There are, of course, more things I’d like to see, but these are my favorites.  I thought I’d list them out now, since this is going to be a LONG Droughtlander, and I am sure to get obsessed with something else eventually (the new A Discovery of Witches show looks promising).  Also, I’m going to temporarily forget about Season 5 if Bees comes out first.

What are your wishes for Season 5?  If you choose to respond, please be kind and respectful.