#{ aster | we carry on through the storm }

[hyuge]

To Rule a Kingdom

#DasterWeek24 | Day 5: Master/Servant | AO3

Hosted by: @nucarnievents | Rated: T | 2.4k WC

When an orphaned child is caught rummaging through the trash at Aster's manor, he decides to take him in as part of the staff, offering him a bed and three meals a day in exchange for his servitude. He allows the boy a safe place to grow up, while keeping the truth of his identity under wraps.

“Let go! Stop dragging me!”

Aster set down his book where he was reading in the library at the sound of the commotion. Heavy footsteps echoed through the manor’s halls and the door to the library swung open with a bang. He lifted his gaze to see his head butler, Oliver, storm in with a child at his side. The boy had dark skin and copper hair. He clung to Oliver’s suit sleeve, wrinkling the jacket as he tried to wrestle himself free of the grasp Oliver had on his arm.

“What is all this?” asked Aster as he rose to his feet.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Master Aster, apologies for the uncouth entrance but it seems we have a vagrant on the property.”

He thrust the boy forward, depositing him on the floor at Aster’s feet. Aster pursed his lips, giving the boy a onceover before redirecting his gaze back to Oliver. The boy had unusual markings on his body and his clothing looked expensive but well-worn. A runaway maybe? His long silken hair was a tangled mess and there was dirt on his bare feet. Aster’s gaze slid past Oliver to the trail of dirt that was carried in behind them.

“Where was he?” asked Aster.

“He was rummaging through the trash near the monster paddock.”

“What a terrible choice of location to go dumpster diving,” Aster mused.

“I agree, sir.”

“You,” Aster pointed at the boy. “What is your name?”

The boy scowled up at Aster from his spot on the floor. He stood and dusted himself off. A haughty arrogance radiated from his posture as he said, “Dante.”

“Mm��” Aster hummed to himself as he walked closer. He stood a head taller than Dante and pressed his index finger to the underside of the boy’s chin, tilting his head up to get a better look at him. “Where are your parents?”

Dante pulled his chin away and his lips curled into a sneer. “Dead.”

Not surprising. There were many orphaned children in Klein. However, an orphaned noble in the Light Territory was cause for concern. Aster would have heard rumors through the gossip mill. He prided himself on his information gathering skills. Knowledge was worth its weight in gold. Aster let out a breath and waved his hand. Oliver nodded his head and exited the library, leaving them alone together.

“How old are you?” asked Aster.

“Thirteen,” said Dante, arms folded across his. “Where did that other guy go?”

Aster turned away, letting his gaze fall on the large picture window behind the chair he had been sitting in. “He went to clean up the mess you made coming in here.”

“It’s not like I came inside by choice,” huffed Dante.

“Yeah, yeah.” Aster wet his lips and ran his tongue over his fangs. Dante’s blood, pulsing just below the surface, smelt heavenly. “I’m willing to offer you a place to stay,” he said.

Dante’s skepticism was apparent in his voice as he asked, “Why would you do that? You don’t know me?”

Aster turned around with a smile. “I’m a man of action and money. I know a good deal when I see one and you look like a worthwhile investment. Judging by your appearance and the fact that you were rifling through our trash, you likely have nowhere to go. You can stay here as one of my servants until you come of age. What you decide to do after that is up to you.”

Conflict was etched on Dante’s face as he weighed Aster’s words carefully. “You’ll… You’ll really let me stay here? Just like that?”

Aster shrugged. “It’s hard work but it’s modest work. If you agree, Oliver won’t go easy on you. But you’ll receive food and clothing, a bed to sleep in, and a fair wage. I just have one question.”

“What is it?”

“Where do you come from?”

Dante opened his mouth to answer then promptly snapped his jaw shut. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over how best to respond. “I can’t say. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” For a proud, filthy orphan, Dante hung his head dejectedly and spun on his heel to head out the same way he came in.

Aster set a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Dante looked back from over his shoulder and his eyes widened at the sight of Aster’s smile. “That’s fine. You don’t need to leave. You told me everything I need to know.” Dante arched his brows in confusion and Aster laughed to himself. “You have peculiar eyes.” One chestnut brown. The other a tourmaline blue-green.

“I was born with them,” said Dante.

“Obviously.” Aster gave Dante’s shoulder a nudge forward. “Anyway, that’s all. If you head out of the library door Oliver should be waiting. He’ll take you to the servants’ quarters.”

#

Dante was entertaining to watch. Aster couldn’t help but stifle laughs whenever he saw the boy in the manor. He had an odd air of dignity about him mixed with the resilience of someone that has had to work hard throughout their short life. He was strong and didn’t give up on a task until he’d completed or mastered it. Aster wondered what sort of hobbies or skills he was taught before his parents died. Whatever it was, it carried over in his work. He was dressed less formally than the rest of the manor staff, wearing a plain white tunic and a pair of dark slacks. The shirt was loose on his small body but there was the faint underlying of developing muscles peeking through. If Dante were diligent in his work, he would be thick with muscles when he grew up.

They didn’t speak often, but Aster would occasionally visit the library ‘by chance’ when Oliver was busy helping Dante study. He would sit in the corner of the library in his large pink chair and watch from over the top of his book as Dante scribbled away on parchment paper to ensure he continued his education. Aster would pass Oliver documents on geography and trade agreements to assess Dante’s knowledge during his lessons.

It only took Aster a few weeks to confirm his suspicions. Word had spread throughout the continent about the Lord and Lady of Solaria being assassinated. The rumors were unconfirmed, but it was assumed that their only son had been murdered as well. His body went missing after the attack. One look at Dante and Aster knew he had to be the missing boy. His dark skin was far less common in areas like the Light Territory where the weather was cool and more forgiving. His eyes, however, were the biggest giveaway. Aster knew a gemstone when he saw one. He had to protect the boy for Huey’s sake. Dante would be needed once his master had returned from wherever he’d flittered off to.

Aster wasn’t worried. As long as Dante remained in his household, no one would bother him and since he was part of the servant staff, nobles wouldn’t pay him any attention. He would be safe. His biggest problem was the current state of affairs in the Fire Territory.

#

It was a lot of grueling work on Aster’s part to gain influence in the Fire Territory. He had secured a significant foothold in the nation that lasted for years to come. All the while, he watched as Dante continued to grow and mature into the young man Aster knew he would become. He was taller now, more refined, unafraid to speak his mind, and he was strong. The maids loved him. They were always going on about him, pleased to have someone so able-bodied to assist with the demanding work that needed to be done.

Morvay was obsessed with him. Under Aster’s orders, he never came onto him, though the thought had obviously crossed his mind. There was a strict policy in place about not getting involved with the staff. Aster had a reputation to uphold. Aster watched as Dante fed Momo and the others. He had a way with the monsters that was second only to Aster. He scratched Momo behind the ears and the damn beast made a sound akin to a purr. Momo never made that noise for Aster. He was totally not jealous. Not jealous at all.

As Aster sat lounging in a chair in the garden, Morvay came up to him with a letter in hand. “A message from the fox.”

Aster rolled his eyes. “What could he possibly want? It’s been nearly twenty years.”

Morvay shrugged, handing Aster the envelope. Aster opened it with a quick swipe of his fingernail.

Vampire, I thought you would like to know that rumors have begun to spread. It seems people are starting to wonder where the treasure you picked up a few years back came from. It matters little to me, but even the yokai have begun to question why the altar in the Fire Nation hasn’t been regulated in years. Which, annoyingly, does pose a problem for the rest of us. I’d rather not have to deal with it myself. If I have to leave the Wood Territory, I will be greatly displeased. Be a good familiar and handle it. -Kuya

Aster rolled his eyes and handed the letter back to Morvay who quickly read it before speaking. “He’s as pleasant as always.”

Aster nodded. “Indeed. Though, I loathe to admit that he’s right. The altar was an oversight on my part.”

Morvay took a seat in the chair next to Aster. He shredded the letter. “Are you going to tell Dante you know who he is? He’s of age now.”

“Not yet.” Aster shook his head. Dante had not once brought up the subject in his years of servitude in Aster’s manor. They would have to manage regulating the altar without him. If he wasn’t ready to face his past, Aster wouldn’t push the subject.

#

Aster sat in the chair by his bedroom window, reading a book in the moonlight. Weariness and fatigue had become his friends as of late. Familiars weren’t meant to regulate gemstone altars, and his essence was nearly depleted. He’d only managed because Morvay assisted him. Though getting into Solaria was no easy feat. Aster didn’t have enough energy to go out in search of food. Morvay, on the other hand, was likely flitting about the capital replenishing his essence at that very moment. Sometimes, very rarely, Aster envied him. Maybe he was getting old.

There was a knock at the door which was odd for the given hour. The staff were all off at this time of night, save for Oliver who would only dare knock in the event of an emergency.

“Come in,” said Aster, weakly.

The door opened to reveal Dante, still dressed from the day, bathed in moonlight. “Master Aster,” he said, “apologies for the late interruption.”

Aster waved him in. Dante shut the door and crossed the room. “Sit,” said Aster. Dante took a seat in the chair across from him. “What is it?”

Dante squirmed in his seat, plagued with indecision. He sat there in silence for several minutes before he finally spoke. “I heard you went to the Fire Territory.”

“I did. The gemstone altar was dangerously overdue for being regulated. Since Master is gone and the Solarian royal family was killed, the responsibility fell on the dumbass incubus and me.”

Dante folded his hands together in his lap. His gaze drifted out the window to the large moon hanging in the sky. “You know, right?”

“Pardon?”

“Who I am?”

Aster hummed. “That depends. If you intend to remain a member of my household, then I have no clue what you are talking about.”

“And if I leave?” asked Dante.

“I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dante studied him, a frown forming on his lips. “You seem pale.”

“I’m always pale,” Aster quipped.

Dante rolled his eyes. “More than usual.”

“I am rather low on essence at the moment and do not have the energy to replenish it.”

Dante was quiet again. A faint dusting of red burned its way across his tanned cheeks. “I could help you.”

Aster shook his head with a soft chuckle. “I don’t involve myself with the staff. I’ll have Oliver fetch someone for me in the morning.”

“And if I’m no longer staff?”

Aster arched a brow. A small smile played at his lips, and he sighed. “If you’re no longer staff, then what are you?”

Dante looked a little more confident. He drew his shoulders back and stuck his chest out. That former, dignified air about him returned as he ran his fingers through his long, copper hair. “Master Aster, as the rightful heir to the throne of Solaria, I wish to formally tender my resignation. I appreciate all you’ve done for me over the years, but it’s time I stopped hiding who I am, and I’d like to return your kindness.”

Aster patted Dante’s knee. “You can hand a proper resignation letter to Oliver in the morning.”

“And tonight?”

“Tonight, I suppose, I shall indulge the child I’ve raised the last several years for being such a dutiful employee.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” said Dante petulantly.

“To me, most people are children. But you’re right, you’ve grown into a healthy, young man.” Aster stood and moved to his bed. He motioned for Dante to join him. “Come.”

Dante did, crossing the room in quick strides. He sat on the bed, looking suddenly nervous once more.

“Is it your first time?” asked Aster.

Dante nodded.

Aster licked his lips. His teeth ached, desperate to break skin and sink deeply into delicate flesh. “Then I’ll go easy on you for the night. First, I need to feed, then essence.” He climbed into Dante’s lap, straddling him. Dante cocked his head to the side, exposing his throat. Aster ran his tongue over the junction of Dante’s throat and shoulder, tasting his skin before sinking his teeth into the warm, sun-kissed skin. Dante’s blood flowed freely into his mouth, and it was as sweet as Aster had imagined. Dante moaned softly as Aster drank from him. They would have much to discuss when morning came, but for now, Aster let himself indulge in the sweet pleasure of sin that was Sun Lord Dante.

[heazueken]

Your Protector

*ೃ༄ summary: after the incident of the river rescue arc, qifrey meets up with an old friend who had almost gone through with the erasure of coco's memories

warning(s): we dont really have warnings today! there is angst, some fluff, mutual pining, and kissing :)

pairing(s): qifrey/aster(oc)

w/c; 4.5k

a/n: this is my first wha fic ^-^ i hope u guys like this! i made an oc with a friend of mine who's one of the knights moralis, their name is aster and they are nonbinary and completely in love with qifrey. they have known each other since they were children, both having ties with the brimmed hats

Aster stood on loose cobblestones of an abandoned city, ruined a century ago by the Brimmed Hats. It’s once strong, unmovable foundation now crumbling with roots sprouting up in the wake of the concrete cracks. Aster was just a child when the news of the city that had seemed to turn upside down in just minutes reached the Great Hall and a bustle and storm took shape as people scurried and rushed past to reach the crumbling village.

Remnants of a home sat below Aster’s feet, broken sigils of light that were written in the underside of the stones now broken and turned over to reveal the magic that was now gone. Their thoughts lingered on what once was, what the town may have looked like when it was bustling with people and merchants alike. 

A broken well seen past a crumbling threshold of what was once a door to a home. Aster’s booted foot knocks a few stones around, their eyes trailing over the roots that grew aimlessly like a virus throughout the ground. Long gone was that water source, looking down it only revealed a black abyss that didn’t seem to end, the rope still hanging over the edge disappeared into the darkness along with any signs of water that still flowed. 

What were once homes were now fallen walls and inside rotten wooden chairs, cabinets on walls that used to hold food only displayed piles of dust and rubble. Many more plants have sprung since last Aster came to this place. When was the last time? Surely it couldn’t have been that long ago, right?

No…no it was years since they last stepped foot on these rotten streets and bore witness to the iniquity of the Brimmed Caps. That means it had been years since they had seen…

Aster grips their hooded cloak, pacing back and forth across the crooked ground and mumbling to themself. 

How could he take in that girl? Does he realize the risk he’s putting on her? Does he realize the risk he’s placing upon himself? 

Their thoughts ran wild as unease planted itself into their gut and churched their stomach like a sickness. It was wrong, what Qifrey was doing, they both know that. Aster only lowered their staffed banner because he had been there to defend that novice— no, she had a name, Aster was not one to see novices as non-magic users, they could still see people as people despite the differences in their way of life. 

Coco, her name was Coco, and Qifrey had stood between her and Aster moments before they were going to rewrite her memories (or erase them, however you wanted to look at it.) 

Aster had to admit that they were caught off guard. Not only by the fact that the revelation of this girl—Coco was the apprentice to Qifrey, but the fact that they had gotten to look upon the beauty of his face once more. Despite the rage and what could only be interpreted as disappointment that flashed across Qifrey’s face, Aster had been happy to see him. 

Their composure cracking at the surface and revealing that soft, tender look that was reserved for Qifrey and Qifrey alone. He had always been their weakness, able to break through that stone cold exterior and find himself within those walls, exposing himself to tenderness that Aster could only offer to him, the love they carried for him wrapping around him in an embrace that they once were able to do freely when they still lived under the water of the Great Hall together and Qifrey was still just an apprentice.

There was the clicking of boots, the sound of gravel raking beneath feet and Aster is turning towards it. 

He had called him here after their encounter with the students, finding a way to slip the note to him to meet him at their usual spot. They had met here so many times before, especially as children when Qifrey had regained his strength after his attack with the Brimmed Hats. 

Here he was again, standing before him, his witches clothing half off and tucked into the belt that snugged around his waist. He wore that same black turtle neck he always had, his hands close to chest as he maneuvered across the broken path that led to Aster. 

They turned to him, eyes widening and the heart in their chest started to beat rapidly; his skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, his white hair illuminating behind the glitter of the full moon and he raises his chin to meet their gaze and they both stand still for a moment, taking each other in. He was so beautiful, not that Aster thought he wasn’t before it was just— well, they know of his condition, his eyesight eroding away much like the cobblestones they walk upon now. 

They were just thankful to see Qifrey still full of life despite the despair he’s gone through.

“You came,” Aster breathes, not believing he would come after their altercation and the malice that hung in Qifrey’s gaze. He stares back at them, lowering a hand at his side and balling it into a fist before sighing and looking away from them. 

“Of course I did. You know I always do.” He sounds defeated, like this was some sort bet he lost with himself. He can’t seem to meet his old friend’s gaze for a moment. Aster takes a careful step forward. 

He’s vulnerable, alert, on guard. Of course he would be, they were going to wipe his apprentice's memory and be rid of her back to her home village. Of course he’d take a step backward in an attempt to lengthen the space between them. He finally whips his head up to stare into their eyes, eyebrows pinched together in frustration.

“Why, though? Why did you call me here?” 

Aster raises a hand, their palm facing Qifrey as if he was some scared cornered animal and they just needed to ease its nerves before attempting to approach again. 

“I’ve missed you, my love.” 

The pet name has him wincing and staring back down at the busted path, both hands now in fists.

“You can’t…call me that right now…please.” His voice cracks, broken and sounding like he was about to tear at the seams. He wraps his arms around himself, leaning back against one of the brick walls. 

“I can’t bear it right now, Aster…” They lower their hand, their heart twisting in pain at the rejection but they can’t exactly blame him… it’s been so long since they’ve seen each other and they just had his student wrapped around their banner just hours ago.

“Just tell me what you want to say so I can go back to my atelier.” Aster pulls away then and takes a step backward, the pain lingering in their chest and rising up their throat. Their facial expression twisted and their mouth turned down into a deep frown, eyes lowering and hands fidgeting with a loose strand hanging off their cloak.

“I want to apologize to you…for what happened back there. I was just—“

“Doing your job, I know, Aster.” Qifrey scoffs and rests his index finger and thumb over his forehead, swiping his hair to the side to barely reveal the side of his face he was so well at concealing. 

“You Knights Moralis have been a thorn in my side as of recently…” He raises his gaze past Aster to stare at the stars in the blue horizon, the moon shining and glimmering above them.

 “Easthies especially…damn him,” He exclaims, kicking a rock over the cobblestone and watching it tumble down a short stack of steps. Aster stands there unmoving, their expression changing to their cold, stoic, emotionless look at the mention of their superior. They swallow their apology and press a hand into their chest.

“That is my deputy captain you speak ill on, Qifrey. I must ask you to refrain from any topics regarding him.” Their voice was firm, their figure taking its natural stance as if they were on duty. 

Their shoulders straightened, chin raised just slightly and arms folded behind themselves. They glance down at Qifrey who gives Aster a deathly glare past his monocle, that malice ever present in those pretty blue eyes. They falter slightly, losing composure so easily with him staring like that.

That Qifrey seems to hold you back, Aster. 

Those words…spoken years ago by Eathies when Aster was still just a young knight in training. It seemed so long ago, that burning feeling of desire that made their ears ring and their heart flutter at the mere sight of Qifrey sent them into a drunken stupor— And still those same feelings burned even brighter under that stone surface they built to keep others out. 

Still, Qifrey had the power to tear it down without even realizing it, pushing aside brick by brick despite their resentment towards Aster.

He never approved of Aster being a Knight Moralis. 

Ever since they were children and they had been swept away by Vinnana and was taken under her wing after they were almost enraptured into joining the Brimmed Caps by their own parents, Qifrey was open to state his discomfort on the topic. 

“They’re stick ups…” He said in a snotty tone, kicking his feet back and forth.

“Yeah…but…they protect us and others…They keep the forbidden away.” Aster thinks of their mother, reaching out with a hand tattooed with inky sigils, grabbing them by the collar. 

The tassels on her mask tickle their skin when they try to pull away, tears in their eyes. The pleading to be let go, the cracking tone of their mother begging them to join her, to join their father, to join them. The

 fear that had Aster frozen in place, unable to pull away. They think about when Vinnana raised her staff and struck it into the ground between the two of them, the banner wrapping around Aster and pulling them away before their mother was shoved back by another Knight. 

Aster thinks about the fact that was the last time they had seen their mother. 

“I just want to protect people…I want to give people the protection my mother couldn’t be given.” The words tumbled out of their mouth so easily around Qifrey. Even with their differences they knew they could trust one another. 

It’s why Aster had been the only one to see the mangled scar tissue of Qifrey’s missing eye. Why they were the only person to press the pad of their finger over it and caress it in a way that had the boy in front of them tearing up.

“And I just want to know what happened to me…no one tells me anything…” The anger for the Brimmed Hats drove Qifrey’s rage into a determination and mission to find his memories and his right eye. 

His anger only drove Aster to aspire to be strong for him— for the both of them in hopes that they could shield Qifrey from the horrors that he could uncover. It’s why they ultimately chose to climb the ranks as a Knight.

“You would defend the person that called for my apprentice’s memories to be wiped? To take away the memory of her mother?” Qifrey’s voice broke through Aster’s thoughts and snapped them back to reality. His voice strained in a gust of wind that sent their cloaks flapping in the air, Aster’s hood lowering down by the shear force of the air. They stood their ground, lips parting to object but the words couldn’t seem to come out.

We are doing what we have to! It’s not my choice! 

It was their choice, though, wasn’t it? 

Rules had been set in place, pacts and oaths between witches had been made for circumstances such as this. But still, it was their choice to uphold those rules. Aster was never good at holding onto those rules when it required to work against the one they care for the most. They sigh in defeat, taking a few steps towards Qifrey's stiffened frame, towering above him that would intimidate everyone else except him. He looks up into Aster’s eyes, expecting to see their usual cold stare only to find a softness in the roundness of their eyes, pupils dilating the moment their gaze met and Qifrey’s expression falters at the tenderness staring back at him.

“I’m sorry…I truly am. Had I known from the beginning that she was your student I wouldn’t have done such a thing.” The witch in front of him tensed his shoulders. How could they say such a thing?

“So you’re saying had it been another witches student you wouldn’t have had pity on the poor girl?” 

Aster’s eyes pierced through the glasses framed across the bridge of his nose. 

“I said no such thing, Qifrey. You think that lowly of me?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a Knights Moralis.” The words stabbed into their chest like shards of ice and their expression became somber again, but that softness never left in the color of their eyes. They opened their arms towards their love, taking another cautious step forward.

“You have my trust, Qifrey. You have my heart, you have all of me. Even with our differences I know there’s that part of you that still feels for me the same way I do for you. You have my word on protecting that child, I wouldn’t lay a finger on her.”

The white haired witch flutters his eyes to look past Aster again as if weighing his options of what to say next. His voice slightly trembling. “You swear? Even if Vinnana called for her memory to be wiped?”

 How could he ask such an impossible task of them? Aster’s hands close in around Qifrey and their large hands loosely wrap around either arm.

“You know that’s cruel to ask of me…if it was to protect—“

“Then forget it. Let go of me.”

 He snags his arms away, side stepping away from Aster. 

He was a fool to come here, he should have stayed at home and watched over the girls with Olruggio. He turns on his heel to walk back to his windowway when Aster is reaching and grappling to his wrist in a grip that has his teeth gritting. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, glaring at the knight behind him. 

Shock and fear flickered across their eyes and they quickly let go, disgusted by their own strength.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry I— I just worry for you, love.”

“I said to not call me that,” His throat tightens at the name, he shuts his eye to compose himself. “Please, I told you—“

“I’m sorry again, then. Please, Qifrey…you can’t blame me for being worried. I know about the girl,” Aster moves closer, cornering Qifrey inside one of the ruined buildings. “I know her encounter with a Brimmed Hat…you understand why I’m worried, then.” 

He can’t seem to meet Aster’s eyes anymore, finding his attention to be drawn to the greenery growing at their feet through the cracks of what once was someone’s home. His chin trembles and falls against his chest, he balls his hands to fists. He knew what they were getting at, they didn’t need to say it directly. She was his ticket to finding more about his past, she was his way to get answers he had been striving to find for so long.

��Qifrey, you need to be careful. If you were to drive her closer to the Brimmed Hats just to find what you’re looking for then—“

“I wouldn’t do that to Coco! How dare you accuse me of using her for my own gain!” His voice strains as he shouts and it shocks Aster so much they lean away to watch the way his shoulders began to shake and his body seems to grow distant. “How dare you…”

“Qifrey…I  just…I know how you can get. Especially about them. I’m not trying to insinuate that you would put Coco in harms way…I’m just scared that she’d get caught up in something that you were trying to seek out…” Their other hand gently pries Qifrey’s hand out of its fist to weave their fingers together and Aster is shocked that he doesn’t pull away. 

“I worry that you finding your answer will result in a great pain, or worse— it will cost you your life and Coco’s.” His grip squeezes Aster’s fingers before he’s ripping them out of their grasp and his piercing blue eyes shoot daggers into theirs.

“I would never risk Coco’s life to find my memories. You know that! She’s just….she’s….” 

He has trouble finding the words now.

What was she to him? A student of course, that was first and foremost…right?

 No, no, Qifrey knew that her experience with that Brimmed Hat that fateful evening piqued his interest and when her mother was caught in a spell, well, he had to take her in then. He had been waiting for years for a lead on the evil group of witches! It was only natural he’d find some sort of loophole to keep her around, train her to be a witch all the while getting closer and closer to finding the man who took everything from Qifrey. 

But was he willing to risk Coco’s life? Simply not…no…she…she….

“She means a great deal to me…more than just a means to an end. She’s more than just a way for me to find the witch who took away my past…my…” He touches his fingertips to the strands of hair that hide part of his face and he fixes his glasses, pushes them back up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat. 

His composure haS been skewing and Aster feels his fingers tighten their grip on their hand. 

“Coco is a promising young witch who deserves a better teacher than I…But I am in full responsibility of her now. She’s a bright girl, very clever, and a hard worker at that.” 

He found his voice softening, the image of her hunched over her desk tirelessly drawing different sigils and staining her fingers with the ink pops into his mind. Turning her head, a huge smile on her face and lifting up the paper to show her teacher a new perfected spell. Master look! An almost perfect circle! I think I’m getting better at this! 

He found himself smiling then.

“She just wants to save her mother…I won’t involve her with my business. But she has helped me get closer to them. And I don’t intend on letting them go.” When he raises his eyes back to Aster, that soft look is replaced by contempt yet again and he glares at them, expecting another insult to his character.

They place a hand on the wall, caging Qifrey within their large frame and leans close, too close. 

“You are stubborn and dive head first, Qifrey…you are so quick to put yourself in danger. I understand she means a lot to you but you can’t lie to me…I know how much this means to you, finding your memories and eye.”

“So you think I would then endanger my own student?! Has it been so long since we’ve seen each other that you have no idea who I am anymore?!” 

  Aster’s lips part as another apology hung between them but it felt disingenuous to say it again.

 I can’t say the right thing. No matter how I say it he spins it around and throws it back at me…What can I do?

He tries to shy away, begins to duck his head underneath Aster’s arm to escape but they are grabbing Qifrey and pulling him towards them before he can object. 

Aster wraps their arms around him so his face presses into their chest. He immediately places his palms on their chest, prepared to push away again before he feels the beating of Aster’s heart racing, its thumps deafening his thoughts. 

They were just worried, it was as simple as that. 

Qifrey knows how much he means to Aster (it’s not like they were very good at hiding it or even tried to). They never meant to harm his pride, plant doubt within himself and his capabilities as a teacher or caretaker of his apprentices. 

No, Aster was just trying to look out for him, even if they couldn’t find the right words he knew better than to think that they would have any judgment towards the witch missing one eye. Qifrey had almost forgotten how much Aster meant to him. 

He slides the palm of his hands across their torso, feeling the softness of their clothes as the pads of his fingers travel across their waist, then they lower and push forward to place his hands comfortably on the small of their back. He turns his head so the bad side of his face squishes into their chest and his eye flutters shut to listen to their beating heart.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re only doing what is right. I know you have my best interest in mind…I said harsh things to you and I was wrong and cruel…I’m sorry, Aster.” 

They stand still like that, the cold wind whistling through the broken glass windowpane, the trees leaves rustle it’s song and a silence falls over them both before Aster is tightly hugging Qifrey and presses a firm kiss to the top of his head. 

“Don’t apologize…I just— You know me…I worry for you because I lo—“

“I know, Aster. I do too.” His voice muffles into the fabric of their shirt and he rubs his forehead across the skin that’s exposed above the collar of their loose shirt. The skin-to-skin makes them both react, that fire lighting beneath the surface of their skin. It had been so long since they had hugged like this.

“I promise…I promise to do what I can and use any ability I have to keep Coco safe. For you.” They pause for a moment, lips parting to continue. “And for her.”

Qifrey hugs them tighter, his hand wrapping around his own wrist to decrease the space between them. 

“Thank you…I know that’s difficult for you…truly, thank you.” 

Aster is placing a comforting hand over the soft tufts of hair, flat and messy from his witch cap head, and gently cards their fingers through the white strands. They had almost forgotten the feeling, this feeling of having Qifrey in their arms. Holding them tightly like there was a possibility that they would pull away, but Aster would never– could never turn from their love like that.

They duck their chin to place another kiss on the top of his head, their lips stay in place and they let their eyes flutter shut in the consolation of it all. Aster’s voice rumbles through Qifrey’s skull so it’s all he hears, all he feels, all he wants.

“Can I kiss you now…please?”

As always, Qifrey obliges. 

How could he resist when Aster held him so gently and with such care? How could he refuse an invitation that he knew could only bring him joy in the taste of someone so sweet? He simply couldn’t resist Aster— he decided that years ago.

The witch looks up then, his bangs have fallen out of place and his specs still obscure his friend's vision from being able to see that side of his face. There’s a smile that they share between them, cheeks blushing red and hands squeezing each other tighter before Qifrey hums his consent and nods his head once.

It had been so long. Aster almost forgot what it was like to feel the plush of Qifrey’s lips, to feel their lover’s breath on their skin before they pressed together. 

The world seems dim without Qifrey in it, despite the magical world Aster shares with their peers, nothing could compare to the colors and fluttering feelings Qifrey was able to bestow upon them whenever they were together. This kiss only fueled this undenying fact.

It was like something had ignited when their lips met, like completing the final sigil to awaken a spell, coming full circle to experience the color that seeps from their lips like firelights, reaching above them to the stars. 

Warmth spreads between them both, Aster’s skin grows hot when Qifrey parts his lips to take a sharp intake of breath and grasp onto their cloak to pull them impossibly closer. The hearts in their chests beat as one when Aster cups their lovers cheek and tilts his head back slightly to deepen the kiss.

A sound escapes the witch, something desperate and close to a whine, or a plea. Aster chases that sound with their mouth, opening wider to invite more sounds to travel into them and swipes their tongue into his pliant mouth, tasting the wicked spell that coats the inside of Qifrey’s mouth and makes their brain go fuzzy with desire. 

They could do this all night, all day, for years if they could. 

“Aster…”

His voice is quiet, distant in the knight's ears when they plant a few kisses on his bottom lip and move to the corner of his mouth.

Their hand grips the curve of the back of Qifrey’s neck and the other snakes its way to his waist where Aster’s hand almost envelopes the entire expanse of his torso. 

He’s pressed into one of the cobblestone walls, legs being forced apart by his friend’s thigh, sneaking between them to pin him.

“Aster..!” Qifrey calls out louder, his voice halts and breaks into a whimper when the love sick knight kisses across the sharp jawline, following the path to his ear when they firmly plant one more kiss where they know is one of his many sweet spots.

It takes another call of their name before they’re pulling away and looking down at Qifrey with half lidded eyes.

“Hm?” 

The flush cheeks, the pink, swollen parted lips, the crooked spectacles that are balancing for dear life on the bridge of Qifrey’s nose is enough for Aster to lose control and elicit more moans and pleasurable sounds from the man’s mouth, but the deep remorse and despondency settling in his blue eyes is enough for them to bow their head.

“I apologize…I just…”

“I know. It’s been too long.” 

A pause. What else is there to say? 

“I need to get back before Olruggio worries and the girls notice.”

It’s cold when they separate, the wind traveling back between their bodies rather than around them like it had been just a second ago. Aster reaches a tender out to fix the collar of Qifrey’s cloak, making sure it’s secure, fixing the glasses on his nose, ruffling his hair back in place.

“I apologize for taking up so much of your time. I just wanted to see you.”

More sad smiles share between them and Qifrey barely looks at them.

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to see you too. I missed you, Aster.”

Their chest caves in and they fight back tears as they nod.

“I missed you too…I hope to see you soon again.”

Qifrey takes tentative steps back where he came from, giving Aster a small bow before rounding the corner, leaving them in the ruins of this forgotten city.

[sproutingxaster]

Aster Sprout

28 | Former Hufflepuff | Herbology Aide | Neutral

❝ We carry on through the storm, tired soldiers in this war. ❞ JESSICA PARKER KENNEDY? No, that’s actually ASTER SPROUT. Only TWENTY-EIGHT years old, this HUFFLEPUFF alumni works as a HERBOLOGY AIDE and is sided with THE NEUTRALS. SHE identifies as DEMIWOMAN and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be WITHDRAWN, PESSIMISTIC,and OVERBEARING but also MATERNAL, HARDWORKING, and TRUSTWORTHY. { KAY, 28, MST, SHE/HER }

Aster’s paternal grandmother, Pomona, was born in 1941, and her son William in 1970. In 1995, William’s girlfriend gave birth to Aster and then promptly left the two of them. He had essentially withdrawn from wizarding society but Aster’s birth, and her mother’s desertion, changed things and William moved to Hogsmeade, near where his mother lived at Hogwarts. Despite not knowing her mother, Aster never felt any lack in her upbringing. She, her dad, and her grandmother were very happy together and Aster was quite in love with the wizarding world. She attended Hogwarts without a complaint, excelling in Herbology to the extent that she wanted to study it after she finished her education. She traveled a bit, working with various potioneers and hospitals and learning about magical plants there, as well as from nurseries. Then, five years ago, she was offered a position as an aide at Hogwarts and gladly took it up. She admired Neville Longbottom and was happy to work with him, and her job allowed her to interact with children and gave her a little breathing room to figure out what exactly she wanted to do. 

Aster is a very loving person, she just wants to be friends with everyone and make them happy, and the current state of the world is stressful and she has quite frequently considered just . . . leaving, like her dad did. Life as a Muggle couldn’t be much harder than this, right? But so far she’s stayed, out of loyalty and duty and obligation.

Miscellany

Birthday: March 1, 1995

Wand: apple wood and unicorn tail hair, flexible, 10 and a half inches

Usually found in the greenhouses or her tiny office in Hogwarts or her small cottage on the grounds

Always a little grubby looking - dirt under her nails and on her robes and often on her face as well

Panromantic demisexual, bit shy about relationships though

I’m probably forgetting things but I’m cutting myself off here

[georgiapeach30513]

Work has had me exhausted the last 2 days to the point where I couldn’t read before bed like I normally do. 😩 on the bright side, I’m off today…which means I can binge read everything I missed in the last 2 days!! 😏 I’ve missed all my favs!

Hopefully you don’t get too much snow by you, if you so, stay warm and safe ☃️🤍

Oh no! I hate weeks like that, where all you want to do is just get in the bed and pass out! There are a few fluffy moments from the past few days. And since there's going to possibly be snow...wanna peak into the Drysdale's as their older and how they choose to spend a snow day??

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Snowed In

Summary:  The kids get snowed in at the estate

Pairings:  The WHOLE Drysdale Clan

Rating:  sweet snowflakes

Warnings: None, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.3K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

The Drysdale’s Masterlist

“What are you doing?” Ransom looks over at his son who walks through the house with his girlfriend and a few sleds.�� “Why are you here?”

“It’s supposed to come a snow storm, and I don’t want me and Lo to be stuck in the apartment,” He gives his parents a smile, setting the sleds down before walking back with two huge sets luggage.

“How long is this supposed to last?  And who’s sledding?” Blade only smiles pulling you upstairs with him.  “Steven Blade!  Who is sledding?” he turns to look back at his wife, “Kitten?” 

“Oh, Ran, he’s a big kid.”

“He has way too many clothes, and secrets,” he looks outside to see Iris and Story’s family vehicles pulling up at the same time.  “Your daughters and their thirty children are here,” she only nods with a hum getting up to help them with, “Why are there so many bags of groceries?  Kitten?”

She walks outside to give her daughters a hug, grabbing up the carrier for the youngest Baizen boy, and then helping the toddlers Thorne and Poppy out to walk, “Come on Papa, help Mimi get these babies in.  There’s a lot of groceries, and bags to get.”

“Will someone just clue me into...” he stops when he sees Beck and Aster pulling in with another one of his babies.  “What is going on?”

“Ransom!” Kitten shouts at him, “You’re scaring the babies.”

“Why are you all here?”  Aster walks past giving her dad a cheek kiss as do the rest of his daughters, still not answering just walking in the estate with groceries and the men with the luggage.

“Papa!  Grab that heavy bag, I can’t carry it,” Ellie points at a bag full of drinks.

“Ellie belly, I didn’t get the memo.  What’s happening?”

She giggles up at her Papa, joined soon by Otto, “We’re staying in case the weather gets bad.  Mom, and Ree, and Icy, and Blade said we should all be together.  Now, get that bag.”

Ransom isn’t appalled at idea of his family and all their children being here.  Welcomes the idea of having these special moments with his family.  “Ewwie and me call sweeping in the bed with Wo and Bwade,” well there’s one couple that’s cockblocked.  

“I just want people to not to touch me,” Posie screams back at Otto.

Walking the large bag into the kitchen, he places a chaste kiss on his wife’s cheek who is already slicing up vegetables for soup.  Story cradling the newest, with Archer right by her side.   “Give me that baby, Story book.”

“No,” she doesn’t even look at him.  Just stares down at the sleeping newborn, offering sweet smiles and cheek kisses to Archer.  Another one that’s cockblocked.  She only has eyes for that baby, and he’s only a few weeks old.  Now the other two.  

“Story, I haven’t got to hold him.”

“Me, Papa,” Archer pouts up at Ransom, who picks him up.  Clinging tight to him as he leaves the kitchen.

“Can I hold him Ree?” Beck bats his eyes at her.  She gives Brooks a sweet kiss before handing him over to her brother-in-law.

“Enjoy it, while you can just give him back,” she answers with a wink, walking over to her mom grabbing a knife and assists her and her sister chopping up carrots.  “So what’re we going to do first?”

“Soup,” Iris answers, scrapping her portion into the stock pot.  “Then, Posie brought that thick yarn to do arm knitting with.  Even brought her favorite aunt some pink yarn,” Posie leans forward giving Story a wink.

“Maybe the pink will rub off on you for the next time,” she giggles.  Story just shakes her head.  While she wants a girl, those four handsome boys are more than enough.  Each of them, nearly a spitting image of the man she fell in love with.  Mixed in with a bit of her father.  “You do make pretty boys though.  Mimi, I brought stuff to make marshmallows for your hot chocolate, can I go ahead and make them?” she tells her oldest grandchild, yes, and Posie runs off to fetch you.  Needing her partner in crime to make the fluffiest of marshmallows.

Aster staying as far away from the kitchen as humanly possible.  Thinking every time she walks into one she messes something up, so instead, she helps the men entertain the babies. Laughter and conversations from all over the estate. The rambunctious, almost twins of Otto and Ellie run in between the two rooms checking on everybody, and dramatically go from singing a Disney song, that Beck and Story join in on, or pretending to be knights.

Even a grumpy Ransom coming back pouting at his daughter about him not being able to Hold Brooks. Walking back in the family room to see the beefy Chris holding onto the newborn. “Don’t get any ideas. There’s enough of these kids. Just hold one,” he scolds the man.

The part that Aster can help, is designing the charcuterie board lunch. Laying out all the cheeses, meats, nuts, and spreads. Getting help from you and Posie as the three of you make it all pretty while the soup simmers.

Blade’s mom walks to the back door opening it up and taking a deep breath, “It’s almost here,” she sighs. “Come here,” Ransom goes to wrap an arm around her, while her walking grandbabies go to stand beside her. “Smell it?”

“You can weally smeww the snow?”

“She can, buddy.  My Kitten has been smelling the snow as long as I’ve known her.  And that’s been over thirty-six years.”

“Mimi, can we watch a movie after lunch?” Posie asks leaning her head up to peer at her.

“Of course sweet girl.”

After the short lunch, you and Blade grab ahold of Ellie and Otto, following the rest of the family in to watch a movie. Everyone all paired up and holding on to a kid. Posie retired to curl into her dad, legs draped over her mom who leans over on James as well. Letting Posie get the most attention for awhile. While Thorne and Poppy respectively sit with their Mimi and Papa. Beck buddied up with Zephyr, who kept getting death glares from Ellie for sitting with her Becks. While Archer stayed with Carter, until he was sneaking away to be with Chris and Lucy.

Story clings tightly to her newborn, nursing him through the first half of the movie. Basically falling asleep on Carter, who just rubs shapes on her shoulder. Letting her drift in and out as much as she needs too.

Halfway through the movie, Kitten stands with a sleeping Thorne to check outside coming back with a smile before cuddling up to Ransom. The snow had started. From the looks of it coming down good enough to trap you here for days. Just the way she had wanted.

After the movie, everyone grabs a barely awake kid, to sit in the sunroom, just watching the snow fall. Ransom lights the fireplace, making the room all toasty and cozy, asking for Posie to sing them a song. She bounds to get her guitar, and plays a couple of songs that she had been learning. The most beautiful and precious family time. Ruined only by her looking at Blade. “I think it’s time to sled.”

The few snow days were spent with children curled up into somebody’s bed. Even Posie came crawling into her parents room when she found out Thorne and Poppy were with Mimi and Papa. Beck and Aster had stolen an Archer, while Zephyr wanted to be in the dark room with Lucy and Chris.

During the day was spent sledding, and doing a random craft. Everyone making a blanket, and coloring. Helping bake cookies, and the famous hot chocolate with the homemade marshmallows. Together time. Even listening to Beck read an unpublished work from someone in such a calm and soothing way. Making it near impossible to stay awake.

Kitten leans into Ransom giving him a soft smile, and whispers in his ear, “I know it’s overwhelming at times, but I do love having everyone here.”

“Me, too, Kitten. We did this. You did this.”

“You too, my pretty boy. All our games, lead us to have a house full of our kids and grandchildren. Harlan would be so proud of you baby.”

“You too,” he whispers slotting his lips against hers. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Captain.”

Masterlist

[bubbleteaa]

Ten Bouquets [Miya Osamu x Reader]

art made by @sugawaras​! please support their work<3 

ten bouquets;; pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader fandom: haikyuu!! genres: pure fluff!! word count: 2.5K this is a gift for @writeiolite​ !! Happy birthday baby<3 I hope you had a great day, thank you so much for all the work you make for the fandom and for being an amazing person! I honestly simp for your works and for you c: I hope you like this, love you! <3

Summary:  You teach him how much you love him through bouquets.

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ  * . : ｡ ✿ *

First Bouquet 

Gloxinia [Love at first sight]

There is something amazing in looks. The deepness in their eyes, how the eyelashes that protect the orb of their eyes beat from top to bottom in blinks. The way that their pupils scan something they are glaring at, how those irises quench your loneliness. It is something so wonderful that it’s impossible not to love those brown eyes immediately.

You don’t understand why you fell in love with the owner of Onigiri Miya while you were the owner of “L/N’s flower service”. You just do. The first day you arrive to the plaza, you meet his eyes and you can’t stop thinking on how you would love to spy in the softness of his ogle.

This, is the first time, actually, that you make a bouquet for someone that provokes your heart beat so fast by only his sight. It takes you all night to make a sweet, beautiful bouquet loaded of shy pinky flowers. Flowers then mean exactly what you feel: “Love at first sight”.

Next day, you meet him again, obviously. The blush that creeps your cheeks is buried in the smile that he gives to you. He stares at your face, and then, he just peeks the flowers with a soft, caring smile. 

The way that your hands extends the object in your hands is quite pretty, for him. You look foolishly beautiful being just as shy near him.

It enamores him, actually. 

“I hope we can get along, Miya-san” 

He smiles at you, receiving the gift.

“I know we will, L/N-san”

Second Bouquet

Zinnia; yellow [daily remembrance]

“Remember to close the door, Miya-san”

Daily talks in a young business person, includes the thread of stress and forgetness. With that said, Miya Osamu is one of the person’s that, even as serious as he is, can forget simple things in moments full of stress. Also, mainly to talk about how funny it is to start the days with the same oddly routine. Alarm at 4:30 a.m., (5 a.m., if you are really quick), showering, exercising, getting ready and grabbed some cheap homemade coffee to start the day.

Adult life can hit different, because it means you stop being a kid. It means you have your own bills and you have to rely on work to have a “decent” life.

Then, you are there again, with a bouquet of yellow-colored zinnias, waving at him with a grateful smile. The sun is burning between the clouds of a new day with the same routine. The same sun is glowering at the floweret in your arms.

“Who is that for, uhm?” he teases, looking at you with a small, yet recognizable bliss.

“Dunno, I think it was for Semi-san”

“I think it is actually for me” he finiquitates, smiling when you nod. He walks towards you, looking at you in your beautiful e/c eyes.

The sun and the flowers are opaqueted by your own shine. You gave him the flowers and kept opening your own store. He just laughs at your clear blush.

“Remember to do the laundry, L/N-san” he chuckles, looking at you when both just were opening your locals at 6:00 a.m., two hours earlier “And to pay your cable bill”

“Dang it, I forgot about the existence of that thing” you hiss, looking at him with a smile. By the moment you open the door properly, you call him one more time “Miya-san?”

“Uhm?”

“Remember to smile” 

Third Bouquet

Gardenias; [you are lovely, secret love]

It happens during a charity event on your floor. You are giving the little kids bouquets of rosebuds with a smile while Osamu is giving out tons of onigiris he made at 2:00 a.m. And yes, you both, awkwardly met at that hour.

“Isn’t it to early, L/N-san?” he is actually concerned. You were always so clumsy for your own safety “What are you doing here?”

“Have to do the bouquets, uh. And you, Miya-san?”

“Onigiris” is his simple response, staring at how you yawned while you open the door of your flower shop “Come do the bouquets here”

Finding comfort in an adult's life is not easy. Where you expect to find it is on your pillow at eleven o'clock, just arriving from work. But, the truth, comfort, security and wonder in the form of affection, is having another person who wants to spend the concintinio with you. It is about the feeling of warmth and a loveable way of not being tired of caring for that person, as well as seeing that person and talking with that person.

You nod in affirmation with a smile.

Early that morning, a domestic yet marvelous atmosphere filled the restaurant.

Now, by 3:30 p.m., the same male that offered you to pass time with him is currently drinking apple juice in a bank near his local. You meet his optic, and you can’t help but smile while you finish the bouquet with white petals ornamenting a lot of, - some kinda mess? But, love is a mess that you are willing to be part of.

He shakes his head with a noticeable smile when you come sit by his side. The bouquet resembling true to his meaning while he just stares at the makeshift bouquet of gardenias that, even looking somewhat messy, it looked just as beautiful as the others you had made all day.

“Is it just me or does that seem like, pretty?” he smiles at you, at the same time you put the bouquet by his side “You really have a gift, eh”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, clearly embarrassed of his compliment “Your onigiris were good”

“Just good, L/N-chan?” he laughs when you blush at his words. It is a really good feeling to be the reason of that rosy pink flush appearing on your face.

“Stop it, Samu”

He opens his eyes, without pause, smiling. It is really nice to have someone else.

To have you.

Fourth Bouquet

Aster; [daintiness, symbol of love]

Having time for yourself is really hard by that time. Is really hard because your “time” belongs to your dream. You don’t regret it though. It is amazing to be part of something as wonderful and as yours like the flower shop you own. 

It is beautiful as well because you enjoy seeing people coming and asking you about the meaning; you love what you do. You love to be part of people's happiness and help them to fulfill their goals.

That’s why, the same day that Osamu looks at you and asks you about your personal life, you can’t stop thinking about being part of his.

“I mean, I have some time for myself, on sundays” he says, preparing you some breakfast. Now that is part of your routine; you get up earlier, though. But you enjoy it. “You should have some time for yourself as well”

“No, I’m fineeee” you pout your mouth and he shakes his head raising a brow “Okay, don’t look at me like that,” you drawl on, pouting at him.

“Let’s go out next Sunday”

It seems so unreal. The time stops while he keeps looking at you with his damn, deep beautiful eyes.

It seems so unreal, and yet you feel it.

“Where?” you finally ask, a smile creeping from ear to ear. You can’t hide your happiness “I mean, I have to check my schedule-”

He laughs at your words. And you are happy.

So happy that you interrupt him at 12:00 p.m., with a big aster bouquet, the purple flowers shivering with excitement. A small note inside between your last adorn.

“I will love to go out with you, Osamu”

Fifth Bouquet

Camellias; pink [longing for you], red [you are the flame in my heart], white [You are adorable]

Miya’s hands weren’t soft. Actually, those big hard working hands were scratchy. You never minded, though. Osamu’s hands were Osamu’s hands; so it didn’t matter if his hands were soft, scratchy or regular. The only thing that you cared about was to hold those palms in yours.

Yours weren’t exactly soft as well, in fact. Sometimes, you pinched your own hands doing your bouquets. Same bouquets that carried stories, feelings and memories. 

The bouquets that you were giving to him.

“You know you don’t need keep bringing me these bouquets” his lips moved smoothly at your sight. He was really handsome. 

Since high school, you hadn't been out on a date, much less given time to think about yourself. You couldn't help but feel grateful that he was sharing his precious time with you. 

“I can’t help it” you answer.

He smiles before taking the flowers and taking your hand after.

You don’t need soft hands to melt someone. You just need to care about them.

“You are really cute”

Sixth Bouquet 

Myrtle; [love]

The sound of the wind near the October storms is refreshing. You cannot deny that you fall in love with cold weather whenever you knock on your door. You fall in love with the existing feeling of heat that a memory, situation or person can provide.

Especially, that one special person.

For this reason, when you arrive at their local, you cannot help but feel the heat that the environment emanates. 

He looks at you from the other side of the store with a warm smile, your hair is being lit by the monotonous light of the store. In your hands hang the small arrangements of myrtles that emancipate the birth of something else.

And he smiles at you, noticing.

Seventh Bouquet

Salvia; [forever mine]

It is the first time that he hugs you. In your shop.

"Are you going to close already?"

"Yes, I have to go do some things" your voice sounds sweeter to him at that moment. And, and really feel something, feel a force that calls you, that draws you to you like a magnet.

"... And you should go too, it seems like it's going to rain-"

"Y/N,"

You look at him, and your gaze connects with a softness in his that you would long for all your life. Your heart weighs on your chest, feeling the the air between you becomes closer and closer.

And it happens.

His big arms, workers join your figure and you feel warm. A warmth that runs from head to toe. A warmth that mixes with beautiful salvias that you gave him earlier.

“Let me drive you home”

“You are gonna get sick, Osamu”

He smiles at you and shakes his head.

“I never get sick”

Eight Bouquet 

Carnations; [I miss you]

He doesn’t listen to you, and he gets sick.

You feel lonely those five days that go by without him. His employees take care of the business as it should be, but it feels very lonely not to have it in the morning, making you breakfast -onigiri-. Or touching your hands after trying hard making bouquets. Or observing his eyes, which you love so much.

It feels sad, to tell the truth. Because, you would like to give him all your love in those five days you spend without him. You want to look for him and hug him again, you want to have him in your arms again.

You feel so alone, that you end up sending a bouquet of carnations to his address, with a little note.

"This happened to you for being a fool, fool"

The note responds when he returns the following week, with a smile.

"Did you miss me, silly?"

You did.

Ninth Bouquet

Daffodils; [new beginnings]

You were sitting next to him, watching a movie on a Sunday in November. One of his arms was covering your shoulders as he carefully brings you close to his chest. The Japanese dubbing of the film is as annoying as the fact that you are falling asleep because of how boring it is.

Osamu looks at you and raises an eyebrow; ignoring the fact that you are falling asleep, you stare at him taking your chin and guiding his face close to yours. Your sleeping eyes widen in amazement at his action and a crimson blush begins to color in your facial expression.

"Now you are paying attention" his hoarse voice was drawn in a curvilinear towards your lips; It was like a prayer heard by the gods. You feel the warmth of his mouth flood with yours, trembling hands caress his gray hair and he smiles in the middle of the kiss "You really are something else, Y/N"

"What?"

"My sweet daffodil, my new beginning"

His words sow a feeling of excitement and nervousness within you. You laugh softly when you notice that he has done a little research and you kiss his lips again with immense softness.

"I love you"

“I love you too, flower girl”

Needless to say, next morning, you gave him another bouquet. With smalls and refreshing daffodils.

Your new beginning, your Osamu.

Tenth Bouquet

Red rose; [pure true love]

His love for you is so great that he makes you a bouquet of flowers this time.

He took advantage of the fact that you were doing a workshop on how to make them, he came to your florist and began to observe how you dedicated yourself to creating the beautiful works of art and immortalizing it in the form of bouquets. He was always amazed at you. Your courage, your heart, everything. You were something else.

And now you were his something else.

When it was all over, it was obvious that you were very tired. He looked at the bouquet of roses he had made for you and then turned his gaze to your relaxed figure, who was lying on your sofa.

It was not easy to say “I love you”, but feeling it was much more difficult. However, saying “I love you” was like saying "good morning" for him when it came to you; it was a need he had. It was something he was enjoying at his best.

In the months that have passed since you opened your business, he has only received by your part obvious messages of love in the form of flowers. And it's time for him to return them to you.

"Oi, Y / N"

"Osamu?"

"I love you"

Your eyes meet his as he extends the bouquet to you. A beautiful smile forms on your lips as you take it and smell it fondly.

His lips bristle at your skin when you feel the contact against your cheek. It's too much, and you love the fact that it's too much.

"I love you too, Osamu"

He smiles before taking your face with his hands and kissing your lips properly.

"Thank you for all the bouquets, my flower."

｡･:*˚:✧｡ C h e e s e  c u l t : @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @mlkytobio @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji  @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma  @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez  @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @kawaiikraykray @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei​ @pineapplekween​ @estherwritess​ @keiji-n​ @achoohq​ @badlywritten-hq​ @mochibeaa​ @oinkanna​ @chxrry-wxne​ @spudicide​ @airybby​ @asranomical​ @karmasuna​

｡･:*˚:✧｡ G e n e r a l  m a s t e r l i s t: @trashys-things​ @softforshigi​ @groundzeroagency​ @edensxgarden​ @pm4gal​  @yams046​ @thatfanfictionwriter

[innittowinit]

Run Rabbit Run (1/3)

Summary:

When Assassin Technoblade receives an offer he can't refuse, to kill the king, he starts to live a double life as a knight inside the castle walls.

Unexpected to him, he meets a pair of troublesome brothers, a skilled gardener and a father figure in the process, Can he go through with it this time?

AO3

Arriving at the castle gates

The objective was simple: infiltrate the palace, earn the king’s trust, kill him and then get the hell out of there. Really, for a skilled assassin, such as Technoblade, it should have been easy; he’d been given a couple months to work on getting this target but he had been confident he’d have it done in less than a week.

Usually, he would never accept offers to assassinate royalty but he had been down on funds and his client had offered him so much gold. You see, most of the time the work it took to not get caught for these kinds of jobs just outweighed the reward but this person must have really had some vendetta against the King as, when Techno had initially declined, he had quadrupled the amount of gold he would get as an award.

In today’s economy? He was not in any position to be declining that kind of offer.

And so, confident that he was being paid fairly for his work, he began working under the King - arguably one of the biggest mistakes of his lifetime.

---

“There’s a new guard coming in today” A scruffy looking boy, dressed in a long white apron had chirped as he stacked plates and glasses full of expensive looking cuisine and beverages onto a tray for the butler to carry.

“Knight, Tommy” The butler corrected as he repositioned some of the plates so they wouldn’t fall “And I don’t know why you care so much, Phil brings in new Knights all the time”

“Ugh!” Tommy, the boy in the apron, had groaned as he dug his hand into the silverware drawer, trying to fish out some that he would need to polish the least, “Come on, Wil! Poor guy is probably terrified, he probably thinks Phil will like...accuse him of treason or something if he makes any sort of mistake, we should welcome him!”

“Okay Okay” Sighing, Wilbur picked up the tray, grabbing the silverware for Tommy once he decided he was taking too long, “We’ll go say hi to him when he gets here, for now, just do your job and cook the food”

With that, the conversation seemed to be over, Wil ruffling the cook’s already messy hair and leaving to take the tray to whatever room the King was in.

---

Applying for the role of Knight had all been a part of his plan, having an excuse to be carrying a weapon around with him was far far better than having to try and hide it and come up with excuses whenever someone found one. Part of being an assassin was being able to plan far far in advance.

Walking up to the Palace, it was obvious that this was a wealthy kingdom, not at all like where he had been born. In a way, the fact that he’d be killing someone rich helped with the guilt. Jealousy could always be more powerful than guilt. Creamish grey pillars stood tall on either side of the actual castle portion of the palace, the entire thing being surrounded in a tall stone wall that looked as if it was more for aesthetics than for use in an actual battle. In Techno’s experienced opinion, it didn’t look like it had been used at all for the original intended purpose, in fact it looked as if it had been scrubbed clean by the servants after every storm to keep it looking pristine.

Somebody must have been watching him approach since as soon as he got to the moat a large drawbridge was lowered for him to walk across and into the safety of the walls.

“New guy!” Whipping his head around to the source of the sound, he spotted two men dressed in different uniforms, They were both taller than he was however the blonde boy was quite clearly younger, having more boyish features on his face.

The pair quickly jogged over to him, both grinning like idiots as they introduced themselves, “I’m Wilbur and this is Tommy!” The taller of the two spoke “He’s my younger brother, the king took us in to work for him when we were living on the streets so please don’t be nervous, he’s extremely kind and will definitely want you to see this as your new home”

Techno had to keep himself from chuckling, to him this was nothing more than a workplace, somewhere he could plant his seeds and then strike when nobody was looking, still though, he needed to keep himself as unremarkable as possible in order for his plan to work.

“Quiet type huh? That’s fine, I’m sure the King would still like to meet you first though so just follow us” Wilbur hummed as he spun around on the balls of his feet, leading Tommy and Techno towards the main building. It was a little morbid how they didn’t realise they were inviting death into their home, the thought of the pain he would inevitably bring these people always seemed to upset him so he tried his best to push that fact away as far as he could.

This was his job, he was being paid. The blood wouldn’t be on his hands, as always it would be on his client’s.

Tommy had squirmed his way between the two older men as they walked through the gardens, he had to admit the rose bushes that lined the royal stone brick path looked beautiful, especially during this time of year, it was so warm and bright.

“Hi Tubbo!” Tommy had called out to a boy with brown hair who was tending to some purple aster’s, the boy (who he assumed was this Tubbo guy) gave an enthusiastic wave back, his smile was incredibly welcoming and friendly. Needless to say, it was obvious the two boys were friends, but he also had a little bit of an edginess to him, he cut off the dead flowers with so much precision that Techno was half expecting him to be a second assassin here who was just being careless about hiding their skill with weapons. One look at that stupid smile made it very clear that he was in fact not an assassin though, instead he just seemed to be very skilled in his craft.

“That boy over there?” Wilbur chuckled, seemingly noticing Techno staring “That’s Tubbo,  Tommy’s best friend, they met when we first moved in here and they’ve been pretty inseparable ever since. Honestly, if you hadn’t been moving in today he’d probably have made some excuse to come down to the garden, probably to ask Tubbo for fresh vegetables or something”

Nodding silently, Techno willingly gathered information on the dynamics of this strange little family, information was truly the most powerful weapon and knowing how to manipulate them if he’d ever need to do so, would be a very important life skill.  

A man clad in shimmering Iron armour pulled a rope as Wilbur informed him that they needed to be let back inside, a few seconds later a low bell rang and the large wooden doors slowly began to open. Really, the interior had been just as expected, grandiose and extravagant, clearly owned by a man who had far too much money than he knew how to manage. Suddenly Techno felt a little less bad about ruining their family, sure, it was entirely fueled by jealousy but still it felt rather disgusting to know that he had to kill in order to feed himself whereas some people could live a life as ravish as this, without even making a dent in the wallet.

“It’s… big”

Clearing his throat, to try and break up some of the silence, the piglin heard his voice reverb around the high walls. This hall would surely be good for playing music, the ambiance would definitely make the worst of pianists sound like Mozart.

“Yeah, I was a bit overwhelmed at first too.. Isn’t it pretty?” Wilbur sighed, placing a hand on Techno's shoulder as he let a grace smile dust his lips, “It’s really inspiring to think of the Artists that would have worked here”

“Oh my GOD” Tommy groaned, grabbing them both by the arm and starting to hop up the white marble staircase in the centre of the room. “We already have one Wilbur. Don’t encourage him, New Guy!”

After being dragged the rest of the way around the palace, they eventually ended up standing in front of a large wooden door with golden accents, spelling out things that Techno couldn’t read. He had to admit, it would be nice to live with so much gold, but throughout his life he’d learnt to suppress all his Piglin urges in order to not be deemed sub-human (even if he technically wasn't even a human.)

For now he could live with the gold he earned by working hard and doing his job.

On the subject of his job, Tommy had knocked a few times and then immediately opened the door, causing Techno to cringe beyond belief. Seriously, who knocks without waiting? And to the King no less.

“Oh? ‘Ey mates”

With Blonde, wispy hair that reached his shoulders, and dressed a royal suit of green, a man spun around in a comically large desk chair to face them. He had a golden crown placed atop his head with a few different coloured gems embedded into it, it was magnificent and every instinct in his body was telling him to pounce, pounce, POUNCE.

He hated the common misconception of Piglin’s being animalistic brutes who were nothing more than crooks but clearly this man thought more than that. He had only just met Techno and he hadn’t even cared to hide his Gold before allowing a piglin into his home. In a way, he was conflicted. Once King Philza was gone, he could take that crown for himself and bask in it’s golden glory but then again… this man had been one of the few people who trusted him. Sure, the trust was misplaced, Techno was planning his death of course, but it was nice to not be labeled as a criminal because of his species for once.

Sure, Technoblade was a renowned assassin but he was an assassin because no other jobs would hire a piglin, there was quite literally nothing else he could do to make an income. Plus, he was strong and he felt less sympathy for his victims than most would. He supposed that was just one of the perks that came with growing up in the nether, you were always desensitised to death.

“It’s nice to meet you!”

The King got up out of his chair, walked towards Techno and...bowed? Needless to say he was a little taken aback.

“I sincerely hope you enjoy your time with us here in Minecraftia, we’re a small Kingdom but I’m sure both Wilbur, Tommy and any of my other staff members would be thrilled to help you get settled. Will you two show him to where he’s going to be staying? I’m sure he’s exhausted from traveling so far”

Was this really a nice king? Why had he got the assassination request? This man was so gentle to bow to his Knight, who hadn’t even been knighted yet, and somehow someone hated him so much to pay for his death.

Shrugging it off, Techno decided it wasn’t his problem. After all, the blood was never on his hands.

[angelrider13]

Any new Thalassa thoughts?

@hamelin-born

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeey. Mmmmmmm, so tumblr didn’t tell me this was here???? I have no idea how long ago you sent this, but with my luck it’s probably been like a month or something. Sorry! DX

SO. Thalassa thoughts.

Actually, you remember awhile back that stupid long post where we were throwing around ideas about the Chocobros’ Educational Historical Roadtrip™ and I mentioned the bros running into an escaped MT clone named Aster? Well I been thinkin’ thoughts about other ex-MTs that have been smuggled out through the Currents.

It was sorta loosely implied that the escaped MTs remain involved in the Currents network somehow. My reasoning for this is that - at least in the very beginning - no one outside the Nif labs really knows whats up with the process of MT-making and Sketchy Human Experimentation usually leads to Very Bad Health Complications if one is not careful. So. Gotta keep track of all the MT escapees, clone or otherwise, because these people were not liberated to die.

Because of this, the ex-MTs are also able to keep track of each other. They form their own sort of support group because their liberators are great, don’t get them wrong, but they don’t get it. (Also, Found Family troupe for the win!)

So meet some our ex-MT friends!

(This got long, so under the cut.)

Lily:

- She’s a clone, but she decided pretty early on the she was a She™ - partly because it put some distance between her and the weapon she was being forged into, partly because Thalassa was part of her rescue party and she was like ‘imma be her when i grow up’, but mostly because when someone finally got around to explaining to this bby!person what the heck gender was, she’d already been thinking of herself that way just without the mainstream labels.

- She absolutely grows her hair out long and usually wears it in a single long braid, but she loves figuring out new hairstyles and braids. Digna (the Galahdian hunter from the above mentioned long post who is buddies with Aster), is the one who taught her to braid her hair. It is her favorite thing and she finds it very relaxing to do her hair or others’.

- Badass hunter who is a fantastic sharp shooter who also happens to carry a stupid amount of knives on her person. She has excellent aim.

- Is the second ex-MT to meet the Chocobros. Aster sends them in her general direction and they run across her mid-hunt and see her snipe some Scourge-infested animals.

- Lily is contracted to several medical facilities that are devoted to finding a medical cure to the Scourge. Part of this involves tracking and capturing samples (such as Scourge-infested animals).

- Lily adopts Prompto on sight and glories in her role as older sister (she’s ~26 during canon events) and ends up giving him access to what is basically the ex-MT discord channel.

- Her username is FlowerGirl.

- Gives the Chocobros some insight to what she went through learning to be a person and gives Prompto her own story of escaping the labs when he asks.

Topaz:

- He’s an older gen clone. My headcanon for the MT process is that it isn’t completed until the clones are 18, at which point the process is irreversible because everything that was a person has been turned into a daemon. Topaz was rescued when he was 17 (He’s 34 during canon events). He’s essentially a terminal Scourge patient.

- Wheelchair bound due to his condition. His eyes are red and also glow in the dark. He is also bald, mostly because he just doesn’t want to deal with it. Is super pale because sunlight is Very Bad for him.

- Loves going outside even though he can’t do it often. Basically only when it’s overcast, but he takes it every chance he gets. He insists outside air smells better and he wants to at least feel the wind on his face if he won’t ever feel the sun.

- Likes to storm watch.

- Loves Soft Things. He has so many knit hats and blankets. So many.

- Lives at one of the medical facilities devoted to finding a cure. Even if he’s too far gone to help, he can at least do his part to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else. He’s the longest living late stage MT rescue and that means something to him. If his condition will help the Currents get more of his siblings out, he’ll do whatever he can.

- Is perpetually tired older brother figure.

- Discord username is PleaseLetMeSleep.

Ekko:

- One of the younger clones, rescued when they were ~7. About 17 during canon events. They/them pronouns.

- Stupidly smart. Especially about computer things. Is the one who created and programmed the MT discord app when they were 10. Has basically encrypted it so only Mods (who have all been thoroughly vetted) can add new members. Grants them access to whatever device has the app. Lily does not tell Prompto and co this.

- Lives with Topaz. Part-time researcher for the medical facility. Doesn’t tell Topaz but they are determined to find a cure for him.

- Sibling designation: Little Shit.

- Has hacked the Nif government at least 16 times. (That Topaz knows of.)

- Discord username is YourSupremeOverlord.

[kanwriteseverything]

Iron Bullet Legacy: Chapter 1

Stranger Beyond the Veil

Sitara’s POV

               One part rosemary. One part basil. Steeped in three parts storm water preheated over a fire of birch…

Lennox hollers on the other side of the door. “Wait! Please retract your wings upon entering!” It’s too late. Glass shatters before she can spit out the warning. “We are not a wing friendly environment!”

I creep out onto the service floor to find dew mistress Aster in a flurry, wings now out of sight.

“Oh, do mind me! I hadn’t even given the thought!”

My apprentice gathers fistfuls of her hair, sighing in defeat. Luckily, the smashed mason jar was empty, but the wind also extinguished four of the white candles we light each morning to purify our workspace. She’ll have to reenchant them before we can burn them again. “It’s not like there’s a sign beside the entrance.”

I wink at her with a shrug as she grabs a wool cloth to wrap the broken glass in. “You can leave that in the back. I’ll transmute it later.”

She nods, mouth agape to respond, but the frenzied faerie quickly refocuses our attention on her.

“Please help! There’s a human! I brought it here from the waypoint on the outskirts of North Haven!”

A human? In these parts? “The waypoint down the road, at the edge of the forest?”

“Yes! You must help! Outside, quickly!”

Lenny raises her eyebrows as we exchange a glance. That waypoint can’t be accessed directly from the portals on the human side. The dew mistress doesn’t let us get a word in, though, mobilizing her wings again and fluttering out the door. The flames of two more candles reduce to smoke. Lenny loudly proclaims that today just isn’t her day.

We follow the trail of mist and sparkling dust towards my practice’s emergency entrance, where Aster is crouching beside a limp body almost a whole hare taller than any of us. It’s a wonder she was able to transport it alone. I check for the carotid pulse beneath a thick cloak and turtleneck. An elaborate mask shields any facial features, but we aren’t quick to remove it. It’s unmistakably iron. I’m able to handle it carefully with my gloved prosthesis. She’s right. It’s a human. A deeply unconscious one, in fact.

“I didn’t know who else to bring him to. I found him lying face down on my way to work.”

The visible lacerations on his hands and face are superficial, meaning something else caused him to pass out. “Lennox, could you retrieve the stretcher?”

“Hemp or leather?”

“Leather. This man is very much alive.” Hemp is reserved for necromancy and the deceased. “Where exactly did you find him again, Miss Aster?”

She motions behind me, beyond the roots of my residence. “Not more than a few yards from the waypoint down this road, just on the edge of the path.”

Maybe he knows a neighbor and came to visit. Doesn’t explain why he’s in such rough shape, though. “Alright. We’ll take care of him right away. Would you like to rest? Bringing him here must have taken a toll on you.” By the looks of his grass stained pant legs, she surely dragged him up to my tree.

“Nonsense! He’s hardly heavier than a bucket of dew. I’ll get on my way and leave you to your magic.”

Well, that’s my job, after all. I find I have to remind myself these days. The only known Mage of the Eight on either side of the veil. Abjuration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, necromancy, and transmutation. However, aside from repairing broken bowls (or jars) and the rare oneiromancy sessions reading other faerie’s dreams, work hasn’t demanded anything my apprentice can’t handle on her own.

A human, though… This masked man has caught my attention, for sure.

Upon carrying him inside, ‘hardly heavier than a bucket of dew’ is not how I’d describe this man, but Lenny and I are able set him up in the treatment ward just beside the service floor. The room is small, with two beds and cabinets overflowing with little rhyme or reason. I conjure a set of free-floating cedar logs to heat the space and establish healing energy. We usually care for fae back here, but he isn’t our first human patient.

All species are welcome on the enchanted side of the veil, but I have no idea what this human in particular is doing here, let alone why he’s unresponsive.

“Maybe he’s a merchant?” Lenny proposes, gathering some honey and sea water before I can even ask for them. She stacks his tall boots and cloak on a nearby chair as I hand her them. I move to open the leather satchel he’d been carrying over his shoulder, but she grabs it and adds it to the stack. “Don’t go through his things! It’s impolite.”

“Well, he isn’t carrying any goods to sell,” I counter, “that I can see, anyway.” It all looks similar to military garb, yet the mask beside the pile was crafted of a faerie’s only natural menace, able to melt a fae’s skin. It takes us both to strip him of his fancy coat with golden buttons and caps on the shoulders.

“This looks like a colonel’s jacket, of sorts.”

Of sorts. “If so, it’s with a private contract with the military. The buttons aren’t branded with the usual insignia. The boots aren’t military issue, either.” Not to mention this hair is far from regulation. I gently comb through the loose ponytail with my fingers, tucking the strays out of his face. His hair is soft and nightfall black, and just a little longer than mine.

“What if it was some drug exchange gone bad?” she suggests with a laugh, gesturing theatrically.

A smuggler wouldn’t dress so obviously foreign and flashy. I lay him flat on the bed and unbutton his shirt, revealing patches of abrasions on his chest. Blood-soaked gauze clings to a gash across his stomach. It looks like it wasn’t even treated. “Can you bring me a bucket of water and extra cloths?”

She rushes out of the room.

These wounds seem like they’re from a mix of melee and ranged combat. Who is he? What is he? I reach for the man’s satchel. Impolite or not, I don’t intend to blindly trust this perfect stranger. There’s no identification in the front pockets, but I find a few different kinds of currency and some pink sweater buttons. I feel around the main compartment, settling on a familiar frame. A gun. Not just any gun, an F3, clearly some new advancement, though. I don’t bother examining it further, quickly popping the magazine, pocketing the bullets, and stuffing a few loose sprigs of sage in their place. I busy myself with halving the sea water, some for a healing tea and some for his injuries, as Lenny returns.

“I wasn’t sure if we had any candles left in here, so I brought a few black, white, and red.”

I smile, avoiding her eyes. “Do you know me at all? I have too many candles everywhere.” I materialize one from my pocket. Skilled mages can store and reconjure their belongings between planes. “I even have them on my person at all times.”

She laughs, shaking her head. Telling her the man was travelling armed will only worry her, or fuel those drug running notions. No need to do that. Lennox is like a little sister I adopted after the war. We aren’t really family, but I vowed to protect her the moment I took her in, with my life, if necessary.

My eyes fall on the human again. Unconscious, he does look peaceful. “Hey, Lenny, do you think we should chain him here for when he wakes up, just in case?”

“Isn’t that a little drastic? I mean, he’s clearly not a salt dealer.”

That’s true. The way I see it, it’s possible he could’ve traveled here through the other waypoints, but what business could he have in this area? It’s largely residential. Could it have been an accident, or misdirection? My only other working theory is that he slipped through the veil from the human side, either through a new tear or one I failed to discover. But how in hazel could he have done that?

And why does he have a gun with iron bullets?

[ekebolou]

New Book: Chapter Two

Why the hell not.  I’ve just rewritten this, so there hasn’t been time to stuff it with overwriting.  You can really tell that the prelude was written well before the book - and that the book has been worked over quite a bit.  I suspect there will be more changes, more or less significant (like Rev’s age, for example - he’s still young, but not that young), but this is, I think, the meat of the story.

Lots of fat to trim from these chapters; some are better than others.

Prelude

Chapter One

Chapter Three

Chapter Two

Thespasian looked for a great white horse.  The wide, cobbled streets – the ones not blocked with debris from artillery fire – were not the first place he expected to find her.  That would be too sensible.  Such was the perversity of his particular fortunes he searched them first nonetheless – those that he could reach.  There was still some concern he could get shot at, as news of the breaking of the siege would necessarily travel slowly to barricaded soldiers. 

As for his own side, he only had to punch four soldiers in the head.  Only one was part of his command, and that one he punched not for inappropriate looting, but for falling over drunk in front of him.  The numbers he yelled at were uncountable.  He found the horse.  Overall a good record.

She was in a café, precisely as you wouldn’t expect to find a horse in a café tucked in the middle of a shady street.  Of course, it was one of the wider streets he searched, and of course, it was periolously deep in the city, if not actually past the line of safety.  She lowered her head and poked her nose at his pockets for treats, despite the fact that he never carried any.  Her unfailing faith that one day he would turn soft and coddling was an example of animal-kind’s superiority to humanity.  Furiously suppressing a swell of sentiment, he frowned severely at her as he scratched her ears and told himself she respected his disapproval.

Inside the café sat his primary concern, long polished boots up on a table, tiny cup in hand, the quizzical expression of a man trying to eat a lemon on his face.

“I can’t make the coffee, Thes,” he said, because Thespasian was doomed by God.  “I’ve seen them do it… I put the thingie in…” he gestured back at the pots over the counter, “and the beans, but it… really didn’t come out right.  I thought about asking, but…” and he shrugged, causing a little wave of shivers to go through the braiding hanging down from one epaulette. 

Thes grunted at Anik, damned his life, and walked around the counter to make the coffee.  He noted, of course, the little pile of gold – enough for five pounds of coffee, with some random local currencies thrown in – sitting on the counter but didn’t touch it.  It was Anik’s.

Paying in Baathian money would be inconsiderate.  Paying just enough would be miserly.  Not paying would be theft.  That they had just conquered the damn place after seven months of tedious besieging and several pitched battles had no bearing at all, except that it made asking a local for help gauche, and having his horse shit between the tables, practical. Thes dumped beans in the grinder and started cranking.

“What’s that?” Anik asked.

“A grinder.”

“How do you know how to make the coffee?”

Thes did not dignify this with a response. 

“What news?” Anik asked, after Thes brought over a little cup for each of them and sat down across from him.

“We conquered the city,” Thes said.

Anik raised his brows and spread his hands at the scene around them. 

Thes shifted in his seat and took a sip of his coffee but the damn size of the damn cups meant that this delaying tactic wouldn’t work for long. 

“You didn’t think of what to say on the way over?” Anik asked, taking a delicate sip himself, but Thes saw all the signs that his suspicions had been raised.

“I was busy.”

Anik’s brows fell into a hard line, ease leaving his face like leaves dashed off the ground in a gust. “Looting?”

Of course there was looting. That was half a soldier’s pay. Anik meant improper looting. 

“Not ours,” Thespasian said, and tried to head off the storm descending as Anik swept his feet from the table, “and how long do you think they’ll stand that, anyway?”

To his credit, Anik paused, fury unfaded, until he had given the notion a moment of serious thought. “I shall have to change Bohdan’s mind.”

“You will never change Bohdan’s mind.”

“I shall have to try.”

Thespasian raised one finger, “The soldiers may not thank you if you succeed,” he raised another, “You cannot kill Bohdan.”

Anik gave him a light frown.

“You should not kill Bohdan,” he corrected.

The frown got a little deeper, then vanished, as Anik reclined back into his seat to consider.  “He is doing great work for Liberty.”

Thespasian sipped his little coffee cup and wondered if Bohdan had a will yet. 

“It’s not the clothing, or the supplies, or the personal riches, Thes,” Anik said, “it’s the piceless art.  The temples ransacked.  The charitable homes and saints’ relics.  If it were only public government buildings, I would be best pleased, but I understand that the wealthy are targets for the people they have exploited, and I am with them, in principle.”

Thes didn’t even nod. He had heard the reasoning too many times.  He also knew that Bohdan was ordering his soldiers to retrieve him pricelss art and saints’ relics and temple goods, because he had bothered to ask a few of the soldiers about it before he punched them in the head.  It had been part of his policy, at this point, for a while. Thes had yet to tell Anik this, not because he wouldn’t find out eventually, and not out of a desire for Bohdan’s continued existence (though he needed to double check the propriety of a challenge issued between officers of their respective ranks and stations in the new system of martial organization).  Rather, he had worse news. 

“I do wonder if raising the soldiers’ wages, or providing some kind of subsidy for their families would…”

One finger: “They make more by looting.”  Second finger: “We already don’t pay the officers well enough.”  Third finger: “The money we pay them in is worthless paper.”

Anik frowned again, glancing over at his pile of gold as if it were interesting rocks or leaves, such as children might barter.  This worried Thespasian.  Thespasian’s fortunes went at Anik’s did, and they’d already been through Anik giving up all of his wealth and rank once.  Undoubtedly, if reminded of how little he had liked Thespasian’s bone soup, even expertly prepared, Anik’s brows would furrow as if hearing some strange and savage mythology.  Then he would happily give it all up again to prove a point. 

While Anik may not have liked Thes’ bone soup, Thes had hated it.  Thes hated that he hated it, and hated the whole situation, and hated it even more that he hated it more than Anik hated it because something like a forge of ever-burning virtue kept Anik warm while Thes, kept warm only by his complete sanity, shivered in the mud.  The fact that Anik felt doubly obliged by the Hell of Fraternal Love they shared to try to make it up to Thes, who ought to be better at putting up with it than some lord’s son, just made the whole thing indescribably worse.  Thes was left with the horrifying feeling that while he should have been mad at Anik for their situation, instead he was furious at the entire rest of the world for putting Anik in this position, and he hated that, too.  Oh, no – they would not be doing that again.

“Sivery’s retreated,” Thes said.  “Their armies have all withdrawn.”

Everything stilled. Thespasian would have even sworn the random pops of distant gunfire ceased as Anik watched him over his coffee cup, deep brown eyes still and shining as burnished, dark agate.  He thought he’d seen somebody looting a cup not unlike that an hour or so ago.  That soldier had been too far away to punch in the head, but Thes marked them for later.

“When?” Anik asked, tossing off the last of his coffee.

“Two weeks ago, at least,” Thespasian said.  News took time to travel, and with the capitol between this front and the one in Erro, the news had paused so it could come with new orders.  Thespasian didn’t have access to the orders, as a lowly sergeant, but news was water in the desert to those stranded in a siege, especially if it was good; they bathed in it with profligate joy. 

None of the cold stillness has worn off Anik, but the sounds of the world crept in again as Thespasian waited like a bridegroom for his response.  If anyone could, Thes would have been the one to know how he would react to such news, yet Thes perched at the end of his seat, tiny cup clutched in both hands as if ready waiting to club a striking snake.  In truth, he understood little of Anik’s various passions even as they were – too much like in plays, which he despised, or poems, which he also despised, or novels, which he never read but would likely despise – but this particular one – poetically speaking – was a mystery fit for the gods.

Had it been but a year ago, Thes could see himself having to wrestle Anik to the ground to keep him from leaping onto Aster’s back and riding off to do something stupid (which would inevitably later be described by others as either courageous, heroic, or dashing, all words Thespasian – guess what – despised).  But a year ago, Papa Bel had been alive.  A year ago, he hadn’t yet been back to Baath’s verdant countryside, to see what happened when Liberty was refused.  Since a year ago, things had changed.  Were he inclined to listen to foolish feelings, Thes would have heard the note of sadness in his own thoughts.  He’d taken enough thoughtless elbows to the eyeball trying to stop Anik, though, that even had he heard it, notes of sadness could fuck off.

After a deep intake of breath, Anik asked, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Thes answered, “but they’ve withdrawn all their soldiers from the continent.  There was a battle.”

Anik’s hard stare fixed on him again – there were ‘battles’ and battles.  Thespasian’s mild shrug indicated that the gossip called this one a battle, indeed. It was, after all, covering the full retreat of a not-inconsiderable army from an unreliable allied shore under pursuit by a Baathian force driven by patriotic fervor and ripe with success.

Anik turned his coffee cup about on the table, eyes dropping to it as if it plotted against him.  It wasn’t safe to plot against Anik.  It might be easy, Thespasian thought begrudgingly, as it was always easy to plot against the honorable, but it wasn’t safe.

He looked back up at Thespasian.  Thespasian’s eyes narrowed, chin tucked to the side as if keeping a bead on a half-tamed horse. 

“I want to know what happened,” Anik said.

Thespasian nodded, but didn’t quit glaring.

“I want to know what’s being done about it,” Anik said.

Again, Thespasian nodded. There were things Anik would hear that Thes hadn’t the rank for, but likewise, there were things Thes would hear that no soldier in their right mind would tell an officer of his caliber.

“I want to know what this means for the campaign – surely we’re going to reinforce our presence in Erro.”

Not so surely, Thes thought; they might have only half-heartedly supported Sivery’s (also half-hearted) attempt to keep Baath at bay, but they would undoubtedly resist Baath’s increasingly suspect march to spread ‘Liberation.’  It was hard to tell, these days, which way the government of Baath would jump, and even harder to tell if its armies would listen.  Even so, Erro was tempting – it had the paper-soft shell of a wasp’s nest.

This was all good, though. This was all a product of the officer Anik had become under the hard tutelage of this war (these wars?  This was also hard to tell).  These were not the questions of the impulsive soldier – and youth – he had been.

He stood, walking to his horse, and reflexively Thes stood after him, unconsciously easing into action.

“I also want to know who was there,” Anik said, as he stroked Aster’s nose.

Thespasian walked two steps, busily planning his missions, before this command stopped him. 

It was hard to say what the look he gave Anik meant.  It was hard to say whether the despair which bloomed under it struck like buds fooled by an early thaw, or – and of this Thespasian became more and more convinced, as he watched Anik’s utter impassivity as he lead them out to the street – whether the despair was a simple premonition of what was to come.  Somehow, Thespasian thought, this was going to be bad. Very, very bad.

But now was not the time to say anything about it, for Anik mounted, that cold and – Thespasian courted death by thinking it – regal air of command rising about him like stone, and became wholly the General his mentor had trained him to be.  Anik-the-general could not be gainsaid.

“Thank you for the coffee, and the news” Anik said, giving him a nod, then he turned Aster and Anik-the-general rode off towards camp.

Thes saluted.  Couldn’t gainsay generals, but you sure as shit could salute idiots.

Chapter Three

[doomonfilm]

Review : The Invisible Man (2020)

The power of invisibility has always had a strong allure… I believe this is why the Invisible Man was included in the canon of the original Universal Monsters, side by side with the likes of Frankenstein, the Mummy, the Wolf Man, the Creature from the Black Lagoon and Dracula.  That being said, The Invisible Man was traditionally told as either a tale of individual corruption or sorrow, making it the non-traditional scare of the group.  While there were plans to modernize the Universal Monsters, these plans were scrapped in the aftermath of The Mummy’s box office failure in 2017, leaving the rest of the gang in creative limbo.  The plan to create a shared universe didn’t survive, but 2020 saw a second member of the collective find a new, thrilling life with the release of The Invisible Man.

Two weeks after Cecilia Kass (Elisabeth Moss) escaped the grasp of her controlling and abusive boyfriend Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), her sister Emily Kass (Harriet Dyer) delivers the news that Adrian has died of an apparent suicide.  Cecilia, who is living with her police officer friend James Lanier (Aldis Hodge) and his daughter Sydney (Storm Reid), is still attempting to recover from the trauma induced in Adrian’s clutches, and matters are further complicated when Cecilia is named in Adrian’s trust.  She is allotted a large sum of money, which she donates to Sydney’s college fund, but soon after this act Cecilia begins to feel that she is being watched by Adrian.  What begins as odd events and uneasy feelings quickly escalates into full scale psychological warfare, putting Cecilia and all of those around her in danger at the hands of an enemy they cannot see.

If you could take the uneasy and tense nature that Ari Aster has mastered and bottle it up into a more “traditional” package, you’d have something close to The Invisible Man.  I’ve chronicled from the start of this blog how I’ve learned to wade back into the horror film waters, but I was hesitant to view The Invisible Man simply because of the possibilities that my mind presented for what would happen to Cecilia.   Oddly enough, it was this exact possibility of unknown scares that kept me locked in, and the payoffs connected to the built up fear were as thrilling as they were satisfying.

Using The Invisible Man as an allegory for gaslighting is a stroke so brilliant in its obviousness that it’s surprising it has not already been used.  On one level, you get to feel the intense fear that comes with feeling caged by another individual, and on a deeper level, we are shown how sadly effective it can be when one person makes another person feel crazy (and seem crazy to others) through multiple means of manipulation.  Stalking also takes on entirely new levels of terror, with The Invisible Man giving perhaps the most chilling depiction of it since Fear.  

The thoughtful use of space-showcasing camerawork and lighting heavily amplifies the feeling of an invisible individual occupying the frame, making an already stressful experience more intense.  When balanced out against very claustrophobic frames of Cecilia trying her best to reintegrate into normalcy, the level of immersion for the viewer is wrenched up to terrifying levels.  The absence of score and room sound creates a vacuum that we as the viewer fill with loads and loads of tension, with the small synthesizer swell adding the perfect sonic touch.  Wonderfully subtle special effects are peppered throughout, gradually becoming more and more obvious until the middle act puts us right in the heart of the matter.  Framing the struggle between our protagonist and antagonist as a battle of the sexes further complicates matters, as a built in set of expectations and learned behaviors inform how we process what we’re seeing.  The infusion of modern day science fiction is an overall added benefit and bonus to the narrative.

Elisabeth Moss carries us along as we traverse the brink of fear with her, watching her continuously nearly go to pieces while somehow managing to stay sharp enough to defend herself against a literal invisible enemy.  Aldis Hodge displays both the open-hearted and welcoming nature of a friend and the defensive driven, protective nature of a father and cop with great balance.  Storm Reid shows the innocence of an adolescent on the verge of adulthood with just a dose of the maturity that comes with learning to raise oneself.  Harriet Dyer plays the scorned and wronged sister with enough grace to keep her from becoming a one-note appearance.  Oliver Jackson-Cohen makes his limited appearances count, showcasing an intensity when visible that is real, and a playfully twisted nature during his “invisibility”.  Appearances by Michael Dorman, Benedict Hardie, Amali Golden, Sam Smith, Nash Edgerton and Anthony Brandon Wong round out the main cast.

Once we can get back to curating public showings of films, I would love to do a double feature screening of The Invisible Man followed by Midsommar.  Both films have fresh takes on stories that empower women as they navigate deeply personal pain with little to no support from those around them.  What could have easily been a cash grab (and, at one stage, almost certainly was) turned out to be a surprisingly strong film, and for that, The Invisible Man must be commended.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 11

Find this on wattpad

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

A/N: Finally, the long-awaited (by me) wedding chapter. If you don’t like my OCs, skip the first half. Then Maven appears, what rare occasion ;-) Fashion pics are at the end.

Cassandra POV

The crown weighs heavy on my head although it’s made only of sakura twigs and blossoms, the pale pink petals matching the light shade of my silk dress.

All guests of my brother Hagen Eagrie’s wedding with Larissa Welle wear flower crowns today. The bride’s grown and shaped them herself, and put them on every brow, having chosen them carefully to match the guests’ clothing and preferences. More flowers wind along the walls and corners of the Eagries’ large mansion in Archeon, other bouquets are carefully arranged in numerous vases placed on pillars.

The smell should be overwhelming but it isn’t. Lari’s too great a mistress of her greenwarden ability, so I suppose she created the flowers especially not to have a strong odour. Yet their perfume is ever-present – and pleasant, at least to me. The smell changes slightly the closer I move to the garden, probably intentionally as well. Maybe a metaphor for the seasons; I haven’t asked Lari yet. It’s another artwork among the many she designed for her wedding to be impressive and unique. As the flowers’ smell is contributed to her groom: Since Hagen is unable to see the decorations, Lari made it possible to sense them in other ways.

Just makes me wonder what the food will be like.

I gather my skirt in my hand as I descend the stairs to the reception hall. The dress is unusual to me, hence I’m most likely lifting it too high. The gown widens along my thighs but it’s tight otherwise, urging me to ponder how to fight in it. I chide myself for the thought but it’s less for paranoia than for the wish to protect this dress from damage that I make such considerations. It becomes me marvellously. Short, frilly sleeves, a low cleavage, the tightness accentuating both my curves and my muscles while enabling me to dance. The seams have a more intense colour, a vibrant fuchsia; it’s the same shade I chose for my lipstick and eyeliner. Sakura are embroidered on the skirt, following the colour pattern of pale pink, fuchsia, and every shade in between as the yarns fade from intense into pastel.

All in all, it’s simple but the most beautiful gown I’ve ever worn.

I catch a glimpse of someone standing at the foot the stairs and I almost stumble when I notice it’s Sorata. He smirks at my efforts to remain ladylike. He’s as much a gentleman in his swallow-tailed coat, despite being a Red. What the right clothing can do for you – how many “noble” guests will be confused by his presence, and rightly so. He’s better than them and deserves to be my partner at the wedding party. And more. He’s dressed to match my outfit. Where I carry a crown of pink cherry blossoms, he wears white ones while his cravat and pocket square show pink embroidery. It’s obvious for anyone looking close enough that we are … together.

He bows and kisses my hand, slightly more serious. I curtsey in response and fail, my knees pointing in the wrong directions. He laughs until he coughs. “Unused to formalities, Cassie?”

“Tsk.” But I giggle as well. “I’ll have to train before the queen arrives.”

“I suppose she values your other skills more,” he says. “But I am content as long as I receive your first dance.”

“I promise.” He pulls me close for a faint kiss, then guides me down the corridor to the garden where the ceremony will take place. There’s no one else, so I’m wondering if we’re late and the guests have already arrived, with only the bride and groom to show up.

“Are you ready for a grand entrance?” I ask.

He sighs. “Whenever else will we have the chance – “ he trails off and stops walking, turning us sideways to another pillar in an oriel.

It displays a wreath for a guest, braided from poppies and cornflowers. Simple plants, but their orange and blue colours are as brilliant as fire.

“That’s hers,” I breathe. “Firebird’s. Lacey’s.”

He nods. We stare at the crown dedicated to my absent cousin, either a hostage or a collaborator of the Scarlet Guard, depending on the perspective. Sorata leans against me, his hand skimming my neck as he whispers in my ear. “You’ve heard from her?”

“Only that she’s alive. And occupied, whatever that means.”

He inclines his head and kisses my cheek. “They trust me more,” he says quietly. “The king is rumoured to return here soon, and Archeon might become a target again.”

He draws away, smiling like he didn’t talk treason a second ago. “Excited for the ceremony, madam?”

“Of course I am, Mr. Ives.” And I mean it. At least Lari and Hagen will have this before all hell will break loose.

Indeed, the garden is already filled with guests seated on filigree chairs. Ribbons fixed on poles create the illusion of a room and a roof on the meadow-like green although breezes and sunbeams filter through. We have a magnificent weather for September and the approaching autumn is only announced by the golden and reddening foliage on the trees farther off. My family stands at the front and we part to join them, each of us going along one outer side of the congregation; the middle aisle is reserved for the bridal couple.

I hug my oldest brother Roman with a grin before I take my position. I haven’t seen him for a month. Now he and I stand on the left side while Mother’s on the right, with Sorata behind her. Her assigned companion has still to arrive. She doesn’t wear a suit or other casual clothes today, it’s like she wants to dress as rich and festive as the other nobles for once: She’s swathed in black tulle as voluminous as a black cloud. I’ve helped her to pin up her yellow hair in an elaborate fashion but our efforts are barely visible beneath her wreath of white lilies with small black markings.

Roman wears white asters and I notice that every small movement of his is as graceful as ever, a generous inheritance from his Iral grandmother. But even formally dressed in a suit with a necktie, he manages to look like a punk, a rocker with electrum jewellery gleaming on his ears, hands and chest, and the tattoos engraved on the brown skin of his neck and left hand. His black hair stands up in every direction like he just walked through a storm and his white shirt hangs over his slacks.

But that’s exactly his charm. Despite his height, he resembles his long-dead father a lot. He and Hagen share his colouring with brown skin and black hair but Roman has Mother’s dark eyes and inherited his father’s handsome, hawkish features as well. And his ability of course, the Eagrie foresight.

Yet all three of us siblings are Mother’s children and that shows. She’s a person who always gets what she wants and we adapted the confidence from her. Roman with his seer ability never makes a wrong move; be it in battle, life or art. I always fight for the win, dismissing the chance of losing to begin with. While Mother has never wanted Hagen to doubt himself for his disability and made him believe in what he can do. Although wandering through people’s dreams in his sleep is generally considered as a freak ability, he’s come to live both in aethereal dreams and in the flesh to his capacity. All the more a reason for Mother to be happy and proud of him today.

When the queen arrives at last, the whole congregation rises and bows or curtseys and I manage to lift my skirt almost exactly to the right level. I raise my eyes just in time to catch Sorata winking at me. Queen Iris walks around the seats like we did, with her ambassador Isabella and the bodyguard Richard Rhambos behind her. Richard serves in my place yet as he’s related to Hagen as well, I wonder if he might’ve wished to attend too.

Iris takes the place next to Mother. She curtseys again, kisses the queen’s hand and reaches for the wreath Lari prepared for the queen – blue-violet iris flowers, an obvious choice for the queen’s name. Yet Iris smirks courtly upon receiving another crown while Mother says something in the Lakelands tongue, eager to show off her knowledge and skills. The queen’s smile widens a bit and I wander if Mother said something funny or if Iris’s just delighted to hear her mother tongue. Naturally, her gown stands out even among the nobility. Dark blue flowery lace is interwoven with silver threads and beads. It’s another dress with a long skirt on the backside but an open front, turned into a kind of catsuit as her legs are dressed in the same rich fabric ending over her sparkling pumps.

The congregation rises. Bride and groom enter together, arm in arm. They walk down the carefully prepared aisle of rich, dark soil. Lari’s gown has no train, nor does she wear a veil or a flower crown herself. Instead she displays fanciful, butterfly-like eye-makeup and flowers woven into her dark brown hair which falls down her back. Following an old tradition, her bridal gown is white, with embroideries in the green and gold of her house along with numerous blossoms placed on it in a detailed pattern. She’s barefoot and in place of a train, buds of daisies, poppies, asters, cornflowers, chamomiles, wild roses and many more arise as she goes down the aisle.

My brother looks dashing besides her - even though she grabs all attention. Larissa’s chosen him a laurel crown with an elaborate black coat, vest and white shirt as usual, velvet and frilly in the same style that his grandfather, Julius Eagrie, prefers. Instead of a big tie or a black cravat with lace in the Eagrie colours, Hagen’s necktie is violet, with an interwoven iridescent pattern in purple and fuchsia. “Hagen needs a more special colour,” Lari told me in the dressing room when my hand glided over the silk tie. “Like you do.” Then she winked at me, who’s not bound no a house colour for my lack of a high house.

With cheers, the guests take their places again as the ceremony begins and the queen herself gives her blessing to the union.

Larissa’s planned and arranged every little part of her wedding, and she’s made it to perfection; without ever losing her nerves or her smile. The glass-ceilinged hall the dinner and dances are to take place in is just another demonstration of rare and impressing botany combined for the utmost effect. Lari tries to personify life and beauty and lets everyone forget in what times we live in, as if not so many of us have lost someone. But still. She was never meant to be a warrior or a queen as that is her cousin Heron’s due, the house lord’s daughter. The girl is here as well and forcing a smile, maybe perturbed that two Silvers marry for love and not for prestige. Yet in ability, Larissa excels nonetheless, and she might be able to grow food for the whole capital on a field the size of the gym with the right fertilizers. She knows all about her vast collection of seeds for crops, flowers and other plants. She showed one of those produces to me mere two days ago, when we partied in anticipation of the wedding in one of the few remaining bars in Archeon.

“Usually, I don’t smoke,” I reminded her.

“But I strongly recommend this one,” Lari answered smirking. I had one draw and it was a sensational experience though I’m uncertain whether I want to repeat it. Drugs unsettle me.

When the dancefloor is opened, I give the first waltz to Sorata, as I promised. We’re swaying among the Silver nobles, most of them relatives or Maven and Iris’s favourite allies. Most of them don’t know what to make of us, or of this festivity as a whole. A Red dances amid them with me, the bastard commoner girl, while my mother, half outsider by association, half trusted advisor to their majesties, doesn’t bat an eye. The groom is a blind man with a freak ability yet the queen herself attends and married him to his bride. Thus, the nobles put on their frozen smiles and clap when appropriate, lest they are deemed second-guessing their rulers.

They might as well boil and drown in their pretends and prejudices. In the end, no one has forgotten they – Maven – have already lost against the Scarlet Guard and the Rift. Even though a part of me is afraid. For my family and the friends I’ve found. What will war and change do to these people, this place? But the change can’t be stopped either way, and possibly, it’ll mean I can dance with Sorata as often and openly as we want, without him fearing the discovery of his ability or any brutal whim of Silvers.

The music stops and we part like all dancing couples. He smiles and asks, “one more?”

“I’d be delighted.”

Roman almost runs into me after four rounds. “Untypical for you,” I chastise him.

“But I wanted to surprise you,” he retorts. “May I dance with you for once, dear sister?”  

“Is it that special piece of music?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“It is.”

Grinning, I take his hands as Danse Macabre begins to play. We haven’t practised recently, but we danced to this music often enough, as a mean of training and to show off our abilities combined. We forgo the lifting steps yet draw attention anyway. “The ladies are staring at the rare sight of you, Roman,” I say panting, “Still not interested in marriage and children?”

He only laughs in response.

“Nor any new love in sight?” I inquire further.

“Ah no, Cassie. I’m a happy bachelor.” But he sighs. “The time with Reuben still carries fond memories.” He seems slightly melancholic. Maybe because I can see Reuben Osanos, his boyfriend for two years, standing at the edge of the dancefloor. They broke up eight months ago.

Later on, we lounge on a chaise longue when Lari jumps up out of a sudden, pulling me up with her, only to lower into a curtsey. Tired from feasting, my attention isn’t as perfect as usual, but I notice our high guest quickly enough. The king – awfully underdressed in his ragged uniform – is walking along the central aisle of the hall and the queen goes to him in greeting while the rest of wedding congregation displays their reverence.

Half of us must be laughing under their breaths. King Maven, returning to Archeon’s court after months of absence, crashes a wedding as if to make up for the ruination of his own. Iris plays along, her smile showing more amusement than it should from mere politeness.

Lari is having none of it. When she rises from her curtsey, she takes my brother’s arm and together, they go to meet the monarchs, me following behind.

“We are most honoured by your presence at our wedding, Your Majesties,” Hagen says and Lari beams in her characteristic way, so enticing that Maven bows to her and kisses her hand.

My new sister-in-law is too much of a perfectionist to let her wedding get crashed. She’s the queen of this party, ruling over small-talk, aesthetics and good taste. Yet I muse why she doesn’t offer him a left-over laurel crown so he doesn’t stand out so much. In the end, even Mother abstains from joining the little group around the royals, probably avoiding to broach the sinister topics of her double play with both Maven and her Rift-allied Haven relations. She’s even invited cousin Elane, but the Rift’s princess hasn’t appeared.

Larissa guides us back to the corner from before, now including the royal party and thus clearly intending us to sit down in a more formal way. In a circle, Iris and Maven sit next to each other, I’m at Iris’s, Larissa’s at Maven’s other side, with Hagen between us. Iris frowns at the sight of Larissa’s special “cigarettes”, but she remains silent about them, picking one of her fancy little juices while Larissa and Maven talk, soon switching to politics.

“… so, if you don’t mind to postpone your honeymoon, my lady, would you serve Norta with your ability?” Maven asks suggestively. As always. He’d make a good merchant, talented at selling you everything. But he is a king and this takes it to a whole new level. Lari keeps on smiling and chatting but she holds Hagen’s hand tightly.

“I do not want to urge and hurry you, my lady, but we should start quickly with growing more crops, which would be greatly helped by your skills,” he continues.

“I am proud to be recognized by Your Majesty,” Lari replies. “I will help you gladly.”

Iris rolls her eyes at her exaggerated politeness but she’s distracted by a new glass of juice put before her. I’m startled to see Sorata serving her and Maven while he’s already dashing off. It’s one of his games to play pretend with the highest Silvers, now that he’s again forced to hide his importance and our closeness. And consequently, Maven doesn’t even notice the Newblood spy who’s able to steal his ability with a touch. Instead he asks Iris about her juice.

She shrugs. “It’s good, try it.”

“It’s … exotic.”

It delivers the perfect prompt for Lari to describe her efforts again, having grown the juices’ rare fruits especially for the queen – upon my suggestion as the queen never drinks alcohol. “I’m sure you’re the best to produce food for Norta, my lady,” Maven compliments her. “Yet, the season demands …”

“The season does not matter to me, Your Majesty. Earth, water, seeds and some fertilizers are enough.”

“But,” Iris wonders, “how can you reap the whole of your fast-growing crops? My lady?”

“My queen, we have enough field workers with the choke front disbanded,” Maven says.

“We do not even need many field workers, Your Majesties,” Lari informs them. “The plants I think of are easily reaped with machines.”

“Provided by our loyal techies?” inquires Hagen, unsettling Maven, but the king nods after a second. Iris gives him a shove.

“Indeed, my lord,” Maven adds, though still befuddled.

Larissa laughs. “How unfortunate the traitor prince only saw engineering as a hobby,” she says, the mention of Tiberias changing the mood immediately. Lari enjoys to play with the fire of the banished royal’s reputation and laughs again. “But, of course he did, since when has he ever been useful?”

Her mocking afterthought might “prove” her loyalty but the playfulness has left our group. Intentionally, I suspect. While the conversation becomes awkward, Larissa and Hagen kiss and cuddle like the newly-wed bride and groom they are, as if to remind everyone of the reason for this event.

The two monarchs decide to leave soon after. Iris beckons me to follow them as if I’m only here as their bodyguard. I don’t protest, sparing myself for more important battles. So I merely watch Iris and Maven walking out of the hall with grand ceremony, hand in hand like this procedure lies in the blood of both of them, the one thing bonding them together more than everything else.

“Seasons?“ Iris blurts out, back in their office. She stands with her arms crossed and faces the windows.

The king leans back in his chair, as comfortable as possible in a room inlaid with silent stone. He shrugs. “Autumn is approaching. It’s better to have matters done before winter.”

“Neither my soldiers, nor you and I, can be bothered by cold weather,” Iris insists. But whatever her point is supposed to be, it makes Maven tense. He turns his chair and stares at his wife. She stares back but no words fall for a minute.

The king clears his throat. “You don’t need to be worried about warfare and terrible living conditions?” asks he.

Iris bites her lip. Then sighs. Finally, the corners of her mouth twitch. “If you put it like that – no. I … would be worried.”

His jaw drops. He mutters something and gestures, but stops himself before his fist hits his desk. Although I can smell smoke.

The queen glares.

“I am sorry, Iris,” Maven replies. “I apologize, I haven’t thought it would come so far.”

“But it has,” she insists and while I piece together the meaning behind their polite niceties, I don’t want to believe it, even as I bring back to mind what she told me two months ago. “We have to think of the future, of House Calore, of Norta, and - our alliance.”

I don’t want to be here at all. I want to fall into a hole and die.

But Iris remembers my presence. She comes to me, smiling, but it is her queenly face. “You have sworn to protect me, Captain Griffey,” she proclaims. “Now swear to protect the heir as well.” She says it so formally, neutral and regally, as if this is just a usual matter of state, not her own child.

Yet I curtsey once more in my beautiful gown and do as she commands, pushing away my own thoughts.

Maven rises at the same moment as I. “As this was your plan, my queen,” he utters, “I leave it to you to make announcements when you see fit.”

“I am grateful for your trust,” she replies sarcastically when he’s already on his way to the door. Then he stops and looks at me.

“You’re dismissed for the night, Captain. There’re enough sentinels in the palace.”

Obviously, he thinks if one has to leave, it should be me, not him. I curtsey again but walk away slowly, curiousity taking the better of me.

I glimpse Iris approaching her husband and patting his shoulder and chest.” We both know how it is to walk on determined paths,” she reminds him. “We choose them still.”

I hear his answer just before I close the door. “I thought I could change them. The monarchy. Everything. I really did … believe …”

A/N: If you read my other fics, or chapter 4 of this one, you would’ve been warned ^^° 

  � 2Wc

So you can imagine the whole thing better, here're some fashion porn photos <3

Cassandra: something between those two plus frilly sleeves (and not cut)

Larissa: I have more than 50 dresses for her this is the best though I miss the golden embroidery >_<

Hagen (totally wrong colour ugh):

Charlotte (Cassie's mum): okay but this is 100 % as I imagine it

Iris: too much cleavage I know though I admit I imagined Iris's dress after I saw this one

 d @clarafarleybarrow @mareshmallow @lilyharvord @redqueenfandom @inopinion @spookysamos @hannaharies @red-queen-united @ssingerqueen @runexandra @iris-cygnets

[ellanainthetardis]

The things that happen when you’re out of liquor ;)

[FF] or [ao3]

Chapter 9 : Eternal Night

The headaches grew worse, the cramps worsened, he was running a fever and couldn’t keep still. Two more days and, when he demanded his daily dose, Peeta told him, wincing, that there was no more. He almost punched the wall in frustration and he would have stormed out straight to Ripper’s house if the kids hadn’t hold him back.

He wasn’t strong enough to resist.

It sickened him how weak he was. The muscles in his legs were having spasms, making it difficult for him to stand. When Katniss and Peeta carried him upstairs, he had no choice but to comply because he couldn’t have pushed them away if he had tried.

It was only when Katniss disappeared long enough to fetch her mother while Peeta helped him into pajamas that he realized the fever was higher than he had thought.

“You’re in withdrawals.” Aster declared, finally giving a name to the elephant in the room.

“No kidding.” he grumbled, curling up on his side. His stomach hurt bad. “Look, just let me get out and…”

He would find booze. Someone must have some in that District. Or he would buy vegetables and distill them. Sure, the last time he had tried that he had almost poisoned himself but Chaff had walked him through the steps once. He had noted it down somewhere.

“Let you get yourself arrested?” Katniss scowled. “You want to end up tied up to the whipping post again?”

“Yeah, and whose fault was that?” he snarled, trying to bat away the hands that were holding him down.

“You’re not thinking straight.” Peeta accused.

“Of course, I’m not fucking thinking straight! I’m in withdrawal, idiot!” he spat, managing to shrug one of his hands off. He would have punched the boy too, if Katniss hadn’t caught his wrist and forced it back down.

“We need to cool the fever down.” Aster declared, sounding very detached and professional. “It will get worse before it gets better.”

“How worse?” Katniss asked, sounding apprehensive.

Haymitch laughed.

It was the only answer they needed.

His stomach hurt too bad and he felt too nauseous. When it became clear no one would cave and get him liquor, he curled up tighter and refused to speak to them.

Gather strength, he told himself.

They were talking but he was ignoring them. He thought Aster was giving out instructions.

He didn’t need her instructions. He needed liquor.

They decided to take turns watching him, in case he got worse and needed immediate help – they were afraid he would die, was what they didn’t say out loud.

Dying didn’t look so bad right then.

He started throwing up a little after Aster and Peeta were gone. He took sadistic pleasure in seeing Katniss wrinkle her nose at the bucket she was holding for him, so ill-at-ease in the nursing role that it would have been funny if his body hadn’t been in so much pain.

“Get me some.” he begged, between two heaves. “You know where Ripper lives.”

“There are patrols everywhere.” she countered. “It’s too risky.”

“You can sneak around.” he cajoled. “You’re good at that. Hunting skills and all. Come on, sweetheart… I know you don’t hate me that much.”

“I don’t hate you at all.” she sighed. “That’s why I’m doing this. Even if I get you a bottle, what happens when it runs out?”

“I’ll think of something.” he promised. “Please, Katniss… I need it… I’m gonna die…”

“We won’t let you die.” she countered quickly.

“I’m gonna die and it’s gonna be your fault.” he growled. “Just like the others.” She recoiled and, when he realized what he had said, he was horrified with himself. “I’m sorry.” He grabbed her hand, squeezing too hard, but too far gone to care. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

She still looked hurt but she swallowed it down. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry…” he kept on repeating. “I’m sorry…”

She sighed and squeezed his hand back. “This is your own fault, you know.”

“I know.” he chuckled bitterly, half gone. “All my fucking fault.”

“You said I needed to think about my people.” she reproached. “I’m doing just that. I can’t be caught trafficking. And Ripper has enough problems without us adding to it. Peeta’s right. This is the best solution.”

“Peeta’s been out for my booze since day one.” he grumbled resentfully. “Doesn’t get me like you do. You’re my favorite, you know. Can’t tell him though. Would hurt his feelings.”

“I’m still not getting you liquor.” she replied.

“Then get the fuck out!” he shouted suddenly, snatching his hand back. He tried to push her away and only managed to knock out the bucket full of puke from her other hand. It clattered to the floor, the acrid smell enough to make his stomach churn again.

“I hate you.” Katniss declared. “I hate you so much.”

“Didn’t have to say.” he muttered. “Kinda obvious.”

He closed his eyes, listening as she cleaned everything. If nobody would get him liquor, he would need to go look for it himself. Even in his feverish state, he knew he would only have one shot at this. They would try to stop him.

He didn’t care about the Peacekeepers or the Capitol. He would think of something for that.

But he needed booze. He would die without it. They were trying to kill him. Not the Capitol. His friends. They were trying to kill him and he wouldn’t take it lying down.

So he waited.

He waited until Peeta took Katniss’ place at his bedside, keeping to a stubborn silence that didn’t seem to bother the boy, to his own irritation. Peeta sketched and Haymitch bid his time. At some point, the kid excused himself to use the bathroom and he took his chance.

His legs weren’t steady and he was so dizzy when he stood up that he had to cling to the wall to stay upright. He knocked over the chair Katniss had placed next to the bed earlier.

“Haymitch?” Peeta called.

Faster. Faster.

He snatched his knife from the bedside table.

They were trying to kill him.

He needed booze.

He would need a weapon.

He walked as fast as he could, propping himself on the wall. The stairs, he understood at once, would be a challenge. But liquor was waiting outside and he needed to get down the stairs to reach it. He clung to the banister and managed to get halfway down.

He wasn’t sure what happened next.

One moment he was upright, the next he was flying.

The fall knocked the air out of his lungs. His shoulder and his side hurt. His back.

“Shit.” he spat, trying to sit up. He could see the front door. Once he would reach the front door…

Hands grabbed his shoulders before he could do more than prop himself on his elbow.

“Are you okay?” Peeta worried. “What the hell, Haymitch! You…”

He slashed out with the knife, satisfied when he heard the cry of pain. He kicked the boy’s leg from under him and gave up on standing up to crawl toward the door.

They wouldn’t have him.

He wouldn’t let them.

A hand grabbed at his ankle, dragging him back. He tried to hit his opponent again but a blow to his elbow knocked his weapon away. He tried to struggle but the boy was too strong for him and he ended up pinned to the floor on his stomach with his arms twisted behind his back and all the weight of the teenager sitting on him.

He screamed at the shot of pain in his back but the boy didn’t let him go.

“Just kill me!” he shouted, when it became obvious his opponent wouldn’t finish him quickly. They wanted to make it last. They wanted him to suffer.

“Nobody is going to kill you.” Peeta snapped. “Well. Katniss might if you try that with her. Damn it, Haymitch, you could have slit my throat!”

He blinked, the words sobering enough that he stopped struggling. He didn’t want to hurt Peeta. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t…

“I need it.” he begged. “You don’t get it… I need it… Not much, I swear… Just one gulp…. A glass. That’s not much, yeah? Just a glass…”

He wasn’t certain how he ended up back in his bed. He kept begging for a glass. He wasn’t fully aware of anything else. The room was full of people now and he couldn’t really tell who was real and who wasn’t. A glass would have helped with that.

“He was lucky he only reopened one gash.” Aster commented.

“He was lucky he didn’t kill Peeta.” Katniss retorted. “We need to tie him up.”

“What? No!” Peeta protested. “I’m fine. It’s just a cut. He wasn’t strong enough to do much damage.”

“And what’s going to happen next time you go to the bathroom?” the girl retorted. “He’s a threat.”

“It’s Haymitch.” the boy insisted.

“Yeah and he has issues!” Katniss snapped. “What if he goes out and hurts someone? What if he falls down the stairs again and breaks his neck? What if the Peacekeepers catch him and he tries to fight them? We can’t take any chances.”

“The deliriums will only increase.” Aster pointed out. “It’s not ideal but… We should make sure he can’t hurt himself.”

“By tying him up?” Peeta objected. “That’s…”

“No.” Haymitch mumbled, crawling away from the hands that were doing he wasn’t sure what to his back.

“See?” the boy sighed. “We can’t…”

“We don’t have a choice.” Katniss cut him off. “It’s for his own good. Look, it’s fine, I’ll do it. If it’s too difficult for you…”

“I want to help.” Peeta replied, sounding resigned.

Haymitch didn’t completely understand what they were talking about but he knew he had to flee. They would hurt him. People were always trying to hurt him.

He fought when they grabbed him.

He tried to, at least.

They were too strong and he was too weak.

They got his ankles first and then his wrists.

“Calm down!” someone ordered. “You will open the wounds on your back again!”

He kept on wriggling anyway, fighting the restraints. He hated being restrained.

He couldn’t tell where he was anymore.

He couldn’t…

Tied to a whipping post.

Not in control.

Not in control.

He screamed.

As loud as he could.

For help.

For… He wasn’t sure.

He threatened to kill them all.

He promised to kill them all.

He remembered how it felt.

Not wanting to kill.

But no choice.

No choice.

Blade ripping through flesh.

A sickening thrill.

Being alive. Alive.

Alive when they were dead.

Primitive roar in his chest.

Hot blood on his fingers.

On his face.

On his lips.

Iron taste in his mouth.

He had puked after.

Maysilee looking out for potential threats while he emptied his stomach.

She hadn’t flinched when she had killed the boy.

Blade ripping through flesh.

Again and again.

Looking for an out but finding none.

And he was back there.

Running through the jungle, his squishy guts literally in his hands as he tried to keep them inside. Inside.

Then the cliff and then…

Back in his bedroom.

Pink candy birds with sharp beaks circling above his head, diving in to nip at his torn open stomach, eating him from inside while he watched. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t…

So he screamed.

He screamed.

His throat was raw and he was thirsty.

So thirsty.

The familiar ghosts were lurking in the corners, cheering the birds…  

“Mama.” he choked when he spotted her figure in the shadows. “Mama…” he begged. “Please, make it stop. Make it stop.”

Hands on his face.

Chasing the birds away.

Fingers behind his nape, something cool against his lips…

He drank eagerly. It soothed his throat but it made it difficult to stay awake.

“It’s okay, Haymitch.” someone hummed gently and, when he blinked, Prim’s face looked down at him with a soft smile. “You sleep now.”

He didn’t try to fight it.

When he woke up, everything was on fire.

Flames were licking at the ceiling, at the walls…

They reached the bed and he couldn’t move, he pulled on the bounds but they wouldn’t break.

The flames swallowed him whole.

And he screamed.

He screamed until he passed out again.

Every time he woke up, it was to more torture.

The fire ants that had eaten his first tribute alive covering his body.

The Peacekeepers and their lashing whips.

Nya and her missing eye, waving her axe like the maniac she had been, swearing she would get revenge for having killed her.

His baby brother, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching him with reproachful dead eyes that couldn’t see anymore.

An endless nightmare.

An eternal night.

[sproutingxaster]

tag dump (more to come later)

[cubedcoffeecake]

The Cost of a Mistake

It was early in the morning, and the sun had not yet risen into view. The clouds were a rosy peach color, and everyone was still fast asleep. Well, not quite everyone.

"Psssssst. Pitch? C'mon, wake up, wake up!"

Jack Frost Lunanoff was the youngest of five children, merely 5 years of age. He was unusual in appearance; his hair was of the purest shade of white imaginable, and his skin was a ghostly pale. There was a reason for his appearance, too. Jack had been born with the incredible gift of being able to control winter. Ice, snow, frost, and even the wind could be created and controlled at his command.

He was an energetic lad, and loved to play, as many children of his age did. Unlike most children, however, Jack was a prince. He was the youngest in line, having three older brothers and an older sister, but he was a prince all the same.

The brother he was currently trying to wake was Pitch Black Lunanoff, the second oldest in the family. He was 16 years of age, but was extremely close to Jack. Pitch had a striking appearance as well. His hair was jet black, and his skin a pale grey. His looks were also related to a supernatural gift. He could control the shadows, and peoples' nightmares. He could even give nightmares.

Neither's abilities caused their relationship to be the least bit stressed. Quite the opposite: Their favorite occupation was playing with their powers together. Every day they would discover a new trick, and found immense joy in showing the other. They were also comrades in crime: They were known throughout the castle for their constant pranks.

"Go back to sleep," Pitch grumbled. Unlike Jack, he was not at all a morning person. He despised mornings. And the fact that he would often stay up far into the night to observe the stars and take advantage of the darkness for using his powers didn't help his ability to wake the next morning.

Pitch rolled over in his bed, turning away from Jack while simultaneously dumping him off the bed. Pitch settled down to go back to sleep, but Jack wasn't going to left him off that easy. He sat on the floor for a moment, pouting and thinking.

An idea came to Jack, and he climbed back up onto Pitch's bed. "Do you wanna have a snowball fight?" Pitch couldn't help but smile. He had a soft spot for Jack, and Jack had a soft spot for snowball fights. With a faked sigh, Pitch sat up, causing Jack to- quietly- squeak in success and slide off the bed.

He grabbed Pitch's hand and dragged the half-asleep prince down several flights of stairs to a large ballroom. Running to the middle of the room, Jack stomped his foot onto the ground. Ice climbed across the ground from where he had stepped to the walls. It swirled in beautiful patterns, decorating everything. Jack then held up his hands. Face scrunched in concentration, Jack formed a glowing blue sphere in his hands. Once satisfied with its size, he moved both hands sharply upward, throwing the sphere up into the air. It exploded, and snow began to fall heavily onto the two princes.

Pitch stared around himself in awe, now fully awake. He had taught Jack how to make an impromptu snow storm, but the ice rink was new.

His thoughts were interrupted when a snowball smacked Pitch in the face. He laughed and ducked into a nearby shadow. Their snowball fights were quite a sight to behold. Jack could control the snow and fly, but Pitch could disappear and reappear anywhere using his shadows.

After nearly an hour of having snowball fights, building snow-people, ice skating, making snow angels, etc., the two had settled on playing one of Jack's favorite games. He would leap through the air, and Pitch would use his shadows to catch Jack before he could fall.

This time went no differently than normal... until Jack started jumping faster than Pitch could conjure shadows to catch him with. "Slow down!" Pitch yelled. His tone was frustrated, but his face showed his worry. 'What if I'm not able to catch Jack?'

Jack ignored his brother's warning. With the next leap he took, Pitch panicked. He sent a burst of shadows Jack's way... but in the process, he slipped on the ice. His aim was off, and the blast hit Jack in the head.

"Jack!" Pitch's voice was filled with terror and dread as he ran to his brother, now curled up, unconscious, on the floor. He was old enough to know well how badly his brother could be hurt.

For years, all of the staff of his castle, and even his own siblings, had been wary of his powers. They feared them, and most disliked Pitch for them. He had always ignored them because his father- the just king Manfred Lunar Lunanoff- had always been supportive of him. His mother had always been as well; but alas, his dear mother, to whom he had been very close, had died while giving birth to Jack. But rather than disliking Jack for his mother's death, he became exceedingly close to the boy. Closer than any of the rest of his family, or the staff. And for years, he hadn't even thought about the harm some had claimed his powers could do.

But now, it was all he could think of.

Pitch pushed his thoughts and concerns for Jack's health before all else. He lifted his brother up in his arms and ran through the palace until he found his father. His father was a morning person, like Jack, and was already awake and about.

When Pitch burst into the room his father quickly turned round in surprise. No one ever rushed into his room like that. But seeing his two sons- namely Jack- those surprised thoughts instantly disappeared.

"What happened?" King Lunar asked Pitch, taking Jack from his arms.

"We were playing in the ballroom and- and I accidentally hit him in the head with my powers," Pitch panted. His crystalline, golden eyes were glassy and brimming with tears that were threatening to spill; his voice edged with terror and concern. "Will he be alright?"

King Lunar lay Jack on his bed and looked him over. He gave a small sigh. A grave sigh. Pitch's fear grew even greater. "He will be fine. He will simply spend the rest of the day, and possibly into the next, in an undisturbable sleep. Likely having nightmares. Once the nightmares have run their course, I will be able to wake him with little problem."

"Is there nothing I can do? Can I take them away from him?"

"No, we must simply wait." Pitch nodded brusquely, and glanced at his brother again, before running to his bedroom. He closed the door and curled up into a ball, his back to the door. He cried into his arms, soaking his black nightclothes with his tears. Shadows engulfed the room in a still, eerie darkness.

Normally, Pitch's shadows were a strange, beautiful, almost warming substance. They were very different from normal shadows. But now, these shadows were cold, and dangerous. They both looked and felt different, changing due to their master's emotions. He was afraid. So, so terribly afraid.

He knew that he had hurt his brother. Thousands of thoughts swirled around inside his head. 'What will everyone say?' 'Will Jack be angry with me?' 'I should've been able to stop that from happening!' 'Are my powers evil, like they always said?'

When the rest of his family met for breakfast, they groaned at the absence of their two brothers. Pitch missing wasn't completely strange, he missed meals often. But when he and Jack both were not there, it usually meant that they were preparing a prank.

Their concern for pranks was soon wiped from their thoughts when they saw their father's face as he entered.

"Father, what is the matter?" Asked Toothiana. She was the only daughter of the royal family, and the youngest, next to Jack. She was 9 years of age, but wiser than most her age. She, like Jack, could control the wind. However, her control over it was far superior to Jack's. She had long, waste length hair of a deep, rich brown color. Her eyes were an unnatural, but very beautiful, amethyst. She was rather small in stature, but could talk more than anyone in the entire kingdom. Her nickname was Tooth, both because of her name and because of her strange fascination with teeth, even at her young age.

On her right was the eldest of the Lunanoff children, Sanderson. He was 17 years of age, a mere year older than Pitch, and heir to the throne of Kuu. -The kingdom was named for the moon. The moon was the center of life there, but I shall get to that later.- Sanderson was small, about the size of Tooth. He had a lively, golden complexion, and a mop of sandy-golden colored hair. His eyes were a brownish-gold. His physique was a bit rounded.

Like his siblings, he too had powers. He controlled light and dreams. His specialty was more dreams than light, though he could bend and create it. It took the staff years to become accustomed to him randomly glowing. He had been nicknamed Sandy, mainly because he created his dreams using what he called 'dreamsand'.

The most important thing one must know about him was that he was mute. He always carried a small book and ink pot with him, and had to write anything he wanted to say.

He and Pitch were complete opposites in nearly every way. Pitch was tall and thin, he was short and rounded. He was light, Pitch was shadows. He was dreams, Pitch was nightmares. He was kind, Pitch was narcissistic. He preferred company, Pitch preferred solitude. Well, both had exceptions to that rule, but still. They did not get along in the slightest. They had always been more like enemies than brothers. Pitch was the one person missing from the list of people that Sandy was unconditionally sweet to.

That being said, next to Pitch, Sandy was the closest to Jack. Because of this, the two had been on civil terms recently.

On Tooth's left was their other brother. His full name was Aster Bunnymund Lunanoff, but most called him either Aster or Bunny. He was tall and sturdily built, especially for only being 13 years of age. After spending several summers in a distant kingdom undergoing military training -The program was designed to start teaching princes how to fight at a young age, so that it was a part of life for them, and not something new to them when they were older and received more training at the traditional age.- he had picked up a strong accent. He had a fiery temper, and often spoke things he regretted. His hair was an unnatural grayish-blue color, and his eyes strikingly green.

Next to Sandy, Bunny hated Pitch more than just about anyone else. He believed him to be a lying, cheating, despicable person. Unlike the rest of his family, he did not particularly like his youngest brother, Jack, either. The pranks and 'cute', 'childish' things that he did were very frustrating to Bunny. He could be rather harsh and sharp with Jack. Despite this, Bunny refused to tolerate anyone else, beside himself, being the slightest bit unkind to the boy. He couldn't stand that Jack and Pitch were so close and spent so much time together.

Bunny didn't spend much time with Jack himself, even when given opportunity, because of Bunny's powers. Bunny controlled plants, and adored nature. Unlike Jack, who loved winter, spring was Bunny's signature season. Warmth and color were up his alley- not snowball fights and iceskating.

"There has been an incident this morning involving Jack and Pitch." Their father's announcement drew instant reactions from all three children present. Tooth disliked Pitch like her brothers, and adored Jack. She knit her brow, her face a mix of anger and worry. Sandy and Bunny were simply furious. They didn't wait for King Lunar to say that Pitch had done something; they just automatically assumed so.

King Lunar's expression saddened more at his children's reactions. He knew their dislike for Pitch, and found it disappointing. He loved Pitch as much as all of his children. He could never quite grasp just why Pitch was hated, either. Were his powers really that important to them? He had never- never- done anything more than pull a simple prank. He loved to scare his siblings and the staff, but had never caused a single one of them actual harm. Nor had he ever intended to.

"They were playing as normal, when Pitch inadvertently struck Jack with his powers." Bunny leaped from his seat in anger, but the king did not give him time to speak before continuing. "Jack will be fine by morning. He is locked in a nightmare right now, and we must let it run its course. He will be good as new when it is over. Because Pitch was not trying to hurt him, he will forget about the events that occur in his nightmare."

"That sick-" Bunny began, but King Lunar cut him off once more.

"It was not done on purpose."

"Said who? Pitch?! Why would you trust tha word of that lia'?!" Bunny yelled. He stormed out of the room, quickly followed by his siblings. Tooth and Sandy normally wouldn't leave without first being excused... but they forgot their manners as they jumped up and followed Bunny.

King Lunar shook his head. Someday. Someday they would understand. He was a wise man, and knew no little amount of magic. But there was nothing that he could do to make his children see reason. He would just have to wait for them to understand on their own.

Locked in his room, Pitch was trying to calm himself down. He had managed to force the shadows back to their correct places, and had cleaned himself up, so that there was no evidence of him ever having cried. He was 16 years of age: He was far too old to cry.

Pitch heard a hard knock on his door. He straightened himself, pulled back his shoulders, and walked to the door. He opened it, looking as princely as one can in their nightclothes, but before he could register who was at the door, he found himself roughly hitting the floor.

His head span from its impact on the floor, but the haze soon faded enough for him to hear yelling and recognize the voice. Aster. Dread filled Pitch from head to toe. Aster. Aster.

"You monster! You bloody monster! He adores you! An' what do you do? You hurt him! At least maybe now Jackie'll understand how terrible you are!" A blunt object made impact with Pitch's ribcage, and he buckled from the pain. A fist slammed into the left side of his jaw, just barely not too hard to cause him to lose consciousness.

Pitch felt a hand lift him from the floor by his neck. Then his back made him aware that he had been thrown into a wall.

He had lost his eyesight upon realizing who had entered his room; he was too disoriented. But when Pitch felt a foot impact his ribs before he had even fallen to the floor after hitting the wall, something inside him snapped.

His vision cleared, and his eyes narrowed at the enraged figure before him. He may only be 13, but Aster was big for his age, and far fiercer and better trained than Pitch. Pitch had never had an interest in warfare.

Eyes locked with his brother, Pitch silently began to give his shadows commands. A thin band of shadows slithered across the floor and wrapped tightly around Aster's ankle.

Pitch and Aster's eye contact was broken as Aster looked down in shock. The shadows gave a tug, and sent Aster crashing to the floor on his face. Pitch didn't notice Tooth or Sandy standing, shocked, in the doorway staring at them. Pitch's gaze was fixed on Aster as he darkly glared at him. Making a snap decision, Pitch willed the shadowy rope to drag Aster out of the room, before he commanded another clump of shadows to close the door.

The unlocked door was immediately opened, but Pitch created enough shadows over it for the people trying to open it to be unable to overpower them and get in.

He pulled himself up off the floor, trying his hardest to ignore the splitting pain from his likely broken ribs and badly bruising jaw. His back hurt too, just not near as badly.

Pitch's mind whirled. 'What have I done?' Or more importantly, 'What can I do now?'

Suddenly, something happened that would change the course of Pitch's life. A new voice suddenly spoke in his mind. 'Run awayyyy,' it hissed. 'Leave thisss placccce.' Pitch did not have any idea what this voice was or how it got into his head, but those really weren't his greatest worries at the present moment.

After a moment's thought, Pitch did what would really actually change his life. He followed the voice's advice.

He grabbed several things he thought he could use, and changed his clothing. Then Pitch shadow-traveled out of his bed quarters. But before he left the palace; his home; he stopped by one room. The room where Jack lay.

Pitch walked up to his brother's bed, lightly kissed the young child's forehead, whispered to him something the sleeping boy couldn't hear, and, with one last glance over his shoulder, Pitch left the castle that had housed generations of Lunanoffs. He planned on never returning, though he didn't know where he would go.

With the disappearance of Pitch began a very troublesome time for this small kingdom. The great Golden Age of prosper and glory that had been in Kuu for so long ended with the whispered words from Prince Pitch to his brother Prince Jack.

"I am so sorry for everything that I will do from today on. But never forget that you, my dear brother, shall always hold in my heart a very special place."

[domain-of-friendship-blog]

Episode 2-5

The rain had already begun to diminish as the door to the Golden Oak library creaked open, four sodden ponies and their two passengers filing their way inside.

Spike hopped down from Twilight Sparkle's back as she shook some of the water from her mane. "Wait here, everypony. There are some towels in the linen closet upstairs," she offered, making her way to the staircase.

As Applejack sat down, Apple Bloom gently slid from her back and came to rest on the floor beside her, sleeping peacefully.

Rainbow Dash held her wings outstretched, the better to let them dry, and briefly looked over Apple Bloom. "Is she gonna be okay?"

Applejack gave her sister a soft smile and a gentle pat with her hoof. "She'll be fine now. Just needs some rest is all - poor thing's exhausted from her ordeal."

Spike pointed a claw over Rainbow's shoulder. "Okay... now what about him?"

Tank Buster sat hunched over a few feet away, alternating between panting heavily and giggling to himself.

"That's a totally different bushel of apples," Applejack admitted. "You alright over there, sugarcube?"

"I'm... I'm fine, I promise!" Tank slowly turned on the spot, raising a hoof to his forehead as he fought back another wave of giggles. "Just coming down from the... from the adrenaline rush is all." He punctuated this declaration with an attempt at a series of deep breaths. "Hoo boy..."

"Tank..." Applejack's soft smile returned. "There's something I probably ought to say to you after everything that just happened."

Tank deflated a little, his gaze sinking to the floor. "I know. Look... I'm really sorry."

Applejack recoiled like he'd just sprouted claws and fangs. "What in the...? What've you got to apologize for?"

"This whole thing could've been avoided if I'd been paying more attention," Tank explained, gesturing with his forehooves as he spoke. "I knew about the sinkholes, and I'd been fighting off timberwolves for half the afternoon. I should've stuck around and waited for her, but I let myself get sidetracked at the last minute."

"What's with everypony and blaming themselves today?" Twilight asked as she emerged from the stairway, already draped in a towel. Several more were held aloft in her magic, which she distributed to the other wet ponies and dragon in the room. "If that's true, then it's also my fault for distracting you when I asked you to stop by."

"And mine for letting her go all by herself," Applejack added, gently tucking a towel around the sleeping Apple Bloom before rubbing her mane furiously with hers. "Instead of sitting around blaming ourselves, let's just be thankful she's safe now and agree to learn from our mistakes for next time. Besides, you ran straight into a thunderstorm to save her! I couldn't possibly thank you enough."

Tank rubbed the back of his neck, looking less than convinced. "I mean... if you say so."

Rainbow Dash wrapped her towel around her tail and gave it a hearty wring. "So where'd you get your aster... abra... astro..." She shook her head. "So what's up with you and storms, anyway?"

Twilight frowned. "Rainbow, I don't think we should be bringing that up..."

"No, it's alright. I figured someone would get curious enough to ask." Tank held his towel tightly around himself. "I hope you're up for a long story though, because it's just about the longest one I've got."

Twilight's smile returned. "If it's a story you're willing to tell, we would be happy to hear it."

Tank nodded and took a slow breath. "You can't see it now, but... when I'm human, I've got this big, jagged scar running down my face right here," he explained, pointing a hoof at his cheek. "It's pretty different from the battle scars people in my line of work tend to get, so I end up having to dodge a lot of questions about it... especially because I got it from doing something really dumb."

"A scar...?" Twilight whispered, glancing at the bookshelves behind her.

Applejack tilted her head. "Something on your mind?"

Twilight hesitated for a moment before shaking her head in response. "I was just wondering about something, but it's not important right now." She turned back to Tank. "So... how did you get this scar, then?"

Tank idly rubbed the cheek it once occupied. "Well, that's the long part. See, I have a... a friend back home. His name is Riley, and he's been... very sick for a long time now. When I was little, I heard an old legend about something that I thought might help, and that's when I started training. I thought if I could just get my hands on it, he'd finally be okay."

Spike scratched his head. "What was it?"

Tank hesitated, his gaze sinking to the floor once again. "A... sword. The legend said it was a magical golden sword that could grant a wish to anyone strong enough to wield it. You know, because that's not patently ridiculous or anything." He rolled his eyes as he said this. "But I was willing to believe it if it meant there was a chance Riley could get better. One night a few years ago, I snuck out of bed and ran off to the old temple outside of town where it was supposed to be hidden... and, well. The short version is, I found it. Or something that fit the description at least."

"Awesome!" Rainbow Dash grinned.

"I mean, I guess so." Tank shrugged. "The problem came when I went to leave the temple, only to find a thunderstorm had rolled in while I wasn't looking. We don't have weather control back home the way you do here, and I couldn't just wait it out or I'd get caught; I had no choice but to book it through the storm... across a wide open field... carrying a heavy sword made of gold, and hope for the best." He shook his head. "As I'm sure you can imagine, that's not exactly what I got."

Twilight gasped, covering her mouth with her forehooves. "Oh no... you don't mean...?"

Rainbow Dash's grin faded. "What? What does he mean?"

Twilight lowered one hoof, leaving the other planted firmly on her muzzle. "Gold is an excellent conductor of electricity. Running across an open field with no shelter in the middle of a thunderstorm, carrying a golden sword..." She paused for a breath before continuing. "It would've made him a living lightning rod."

Tank nodded slowly. "All I remember is a blinding flash, followed by the most excruciating pain I've ever felt in my entire life." He shuddered as the memories resurfaced. "It hurt so much I could barely breathe, let alone move. I have no idea how long I was stuck out there before my family realized I was missing and went looking for me. I must have passed out at some point, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed."

The four exchanged nervous glances before turning back to Tank.

"They said I had about a ten percent chance of surviving that bolt," Tank explained. "I'm lucky to be alive."

Rainbow bit her lip. "So... what about the sword? Did it work?"

"Take a wild guess." Tank glared at the damp towel in his hooves for a moment before wadding it up and pitching it at a nearby wall. "There's no such thing as wish-granting swords. It was never anything more than a useless fairy tale, and I should've known that from the beginning." He heaved a frustrated sigh. "I almost got myself killed, and it was all for nothing."

Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Spike sat quietly, at a loss for words as Tank finished his story.

"It wasn't for nothing." Twilight, however, slowly stood up.

Tank stared incredulously at Twilight as though she'd just spoken a foreign language. "If you're gonna say I got a sword out of the deal..."

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Twilight turned to her diminutive assistant. "Spike, where are the necklaces the Princess gave us?"

"Uh... over there!" Spike pointed a claw at a jewelry box sitting on a bookshelf by the stairs.

Twilight quickly retrieved the box, opening it to reveal three empty necklaces, and removed one with a shield-shaped gem setting.

Applejack quirked an eyebrow. "Are those what I think they are?"

Twilight nodded. "If I'm right, they each represent one of the three lost Elements." With that, she rushed over to Tank and placed the necklace over his collarbone.

"Lost Elements...?" Rainbow echoed.

Spike flailed his arms. "We'll explain later! I think she's onto something."

Tank spent a moment staring down at his necklace before looking back up at Twilight.

Twilight beamed with pride at Tank. "As friends, we all do our best to look after one another in times of need... but today, you went above and beyond that. I've seen you put yourself in harm's way for others before - not least of all against Nightmare Moon - but it takes a special kind of strength to stand up to your greatest fear for the sake of somepony else." At this, she cleared her throat.

"Tank Buster, you represent the Element of Courage!"

The empty setting in Tank's necklace immediately took on a blinding glow, prompting everyone to shield their eyes for a moment. As it faded, they all soon found themselves gazing at a brilliant green gemstone in its place, sparkling softly in the evening light.

"Mes étoiles..." Tank whispered, staring at his brand new Element of Harmony. A smile slowly rose on his face as he turned back toward Twilight once again. "Twilight, look! It worked!"

Twilight began hopping up and down excitedly in an almost Pinkie Pie-esque manner. "Yes! It worked, it worked! Woohoo!"

"Well, I'll be." Applejack adjusted her hat with a proud smirk. "Congratulations, Tank. You earned it."

"I'll say!" Rainbow agreed. "The way you were cowering under all those pillows before, I didn't think you had it in you."

Tank's eyes narrowed. "Ugh, don't remind me." In spite of this, his expression quickly softened. "But I guess that was kinda the point though, wasn't it?"

Twilight nodded. "We've seen you face more dangerous things than a thunderstorm before. Like when you helped us round up that ursa minor, or face down the dragon up on the mountain... but you weren't as afraid of those, were you?"

"Not really, no." Tank shrugged. "I'm used to fighting things that are bigger and stronger than me; it's kind of an occupational hazard... but I'll be old and gray before I forget that night coming back from the temple." He gave another nervous shudder as though to emphasize the point.

Twilight put a reassuring foreleg over Tank's shoulder. "It's easy to do dangerous things if you're not afraid. True courage is about standing up to your fears, no matter how hard it may be, if it means doing what's right."

"Courage, huh..." Tank's gaze returned to the Element on his necklace, his smile resurfacing. "I dunno what sort of mysterious extradimensional force decided I earned this, but it's flattering either way. Shame I'll have to hand it over though; didn't you say the Princess wanted to hang onto these?"

Twilight retracted her foreleg. "I did, and she does, but she'll probably want to come to Ponyville herself to collect it... which means somepony's going to have to look after it until then." At this, she gave Tank a wink and a cheeky smirk. "I can't think of anypony better to keep it safe. Besides, you'll want to show it off to Scarlet and Waterwing, won't you?"

Tank's soft smile broadened into an eager grin.

Applejack gently nudged the still-sleeping Apple Bloom onto her back. "Well, this has been plenty exciting, but I think we'd better get along now that the rain's stopped. Poor Big Mac and Granny Smith must be worried sick by now." She paused for a moment and approached Tank. "I know I said it before, but I just can't thank you enough for saving my little sister."

Tank's cheeks flushed a little. "It's no problem, Applejack. I'm just glad Apple Bloom is alright... I'll have a word with the mayor tomorrow to see what we can do about those sinkholes so this doesn't happen again."

Applejack beamed a moment longer before slowly marching her way out the door.

"Spike, get my quill," Twilight instructed. "We've got a report to write for the Princess about everything that happened today."

"Oh man, would you look at the time!" Rainbow Dash yawned loudly. "I've got a nap I gotta catch up on. I'll see you guys later!" She was already out the door before anyone could react.

Twilight, Tank, and Spike exchanged glances before sharing a collective giggle.

"Alright, let's get started." Twilight cleared her throat once again as Spike held quill and scroll at the ready. "Dear Princess Celestia..."

Episode 2 - End

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Dota 2: DreamLeague Season 13 Major- Day 3 Recap

After the amazing Group Stage, it is now time to see what will happen on the first day of the playoffs. Yesterday was a day off for all teams as they needed to rest after a nearly non-stop action in the opening two days.

Nearly every single series today was absolutely amazing to watch. However, we are sad to say that we had to wave goodbye to the first four teams after they got eliminated from the Lower Bracket.

Having said that, let’s take a quick look at what happened.

Upper Bracket

Nigma vs Evil Geniuses

Hello Lower Bracket my old friend🎵 With a loss against @EvilGeniuses, we’re continuing our Dreamleague Major journey in the Lower Bracket.#StarsAlign #LowerBracketKings #DHDL13 pic.twitter.com/mGrLgnquFh

— Team Nigma (@teamnigma) January 21, 2020

The first series of the day was also the most interesting one. Two of the best teams in the world had to go head to head to determine which of them will continue in the Upper Bracket. After around three hours of epic action, it was the NA powerhouse that delivered their knock-out punch.

Game one started very even but the winner became obvious after just a couple of minutes. Nigma completely outplayed their enemies after dominating the laning stage. Amer “Miracle-” Al-Barkawi’s Phantom Lancer proved yet again his power as Nigma claimed the win in just 26 minutes.

With just one game away from elimination, Evil Geniuses looked a lot more confident in game two. They decided to stick with the Storm Spirit for the second game in a row, despite losing the first one. However, this time Abed was able to shine.

After a couple of very close moments, TI 5 champions gained a significant advantage. As a result, they were able to push their enemies and claim the victory, forcing the series into a final game three.

The last game of the series was also the longest one, despite the strong start from EG. In fact, the NA team looked like a clear winner during the early game. However, a couple of mistakes gave Nigma a glimmer of hope to bounce back.

In the end, Evil Geniuses managed to re-gain their strength and delivered their knock-out punch, sending the Bukovel Minor champions to the lower bracket.

Vici Gaming vs Invictus Gaming

《#LeipzigMajor #DHDL13》 The results for Game 3 are in and it’s a #VGWIN ! GGs and keep on fighting @invgaming! We now move on to face @EvilGeniuses in 2 days time in the Upper Bracket Semi-Finals!#VGFighting #Dota2 pic.twitter.com/EnKftMuIz7

— VICI Gaming (@VICI) January 21, 2020

The second series in the Winners’ bracket was between the two Chinese teams. Needless to say, Vici was the big favorite here.

As expected, the One Esports Dota 2 World Pro champions got the lead in the series. Even though iG played fairly well in some moments, Vici’s dangerous pick was just too strong to deal with.

Despite the somewhat easy game one for Vici, the second one turned out to be a complete

disaster. Invictus Gaming crushed their enemies in the laning stage and secured themselves a massive advantage. Despite trying to bounce back, VIci just didn’t have the heroes to do so. Their star player Zhang “Eurus” Chengjun played Razor, who is not the best comeback hero in Dota 2.

Although iG looked very strong in game two, Vici decided that it’s time to end this series and just ran over their enemies in the third game. The start of the show this time was Zeng “Ori” Jiaoyang and his Huskar. He completely dominated the mid lane and then went on to carry his team to victory.

Lower Bracket

After the games in the Winner Bracket, it’s time to check what happened in the deadly Bo1s.

paiN vs beastcoast

As everyone expected, beastcoast was able to rip through their enemies. Since this was a Bo1, both teams picked some of their most comfortable heroes. Although paiN had the potential to shine, beastcoast proved yet again why they are considered to be the best team in South America.

Team Aster vs Chaos Esports Club

And just like that, we’re out of the @DreamHackDota Leipzig Major.

We’re disappointed with our performance and did not play up to our own expectations.

Next, we’ll be regrouping to put our best foot forward in upcoming events.

Thank you for all the support. #CreateChaos pic.twitter.com/F0tBkU2Opw

— Chaos EC @ #DHDL13 🇩🇪 (@ChaosEC) January 21, 2020

The second deadly Bo1 series was between the newly formed NA team and the reformed Team Aster. Both teams ended up here after their mediocre performance in the Groups.

Both teams decided to try out very different tactics. The Chinese rolled out the classic Drow and Shadow Fiend, combined with Centaur. As a result, they were able to ditch out insane amounts of physical damage. On the other hand, Chaos Esports Club picked Slark, one of the strongest carries in the current meta.

The game was very even during the first 20 minutes of it, although Aster had a lead due to SF’s BKB, which allowed them to fight more. That said, they also managed to secure the first aegis, which made the situation for Chaos even grimmer.

In the end, the Chinese got a couple more items and just pushed their enemies, eliminating them in the process.

Reality Rift vs TNC Predator

The SEA battle for survival. Reality Rift made a name for themselves during the SEA qualifiers where they played phenomenally. However, they had a mountain to climb in the face of TNC.

Despite the pressure from RR early on, the game was pretty even for the first 20 minutes. However, after a very rookie mistake from RR near their T2 tower, things completely changed. Suddenly, TNC found themselves with a massive 15k net worth lead, which was enough to eliminate their enemies from the Major.

Team Liquid vs Virtus.Pro

The last Bo1 series of the day was also the most interesting one of the entire Lower Bracket. We saw a 70+ minute deadly battle that was absolutely EPIC.

Similar to the other series before, both teams emphasized on some of their best heroes.As a result, the game was neck and neck as neither team was able to get a clear advantage. Naturally, both teams emphasized more on farming.

However, as the game went on, Liquid became stronger and stronger. Even though VP tried to counter their Naga, TL’s player was still able to get tons of farm.

In the end, the ex-Alliance roster was just too strong to deal with but for some reason, VP didn’t give up. After 70 minutes of crazy Dota, Virtus.Pro managed to kill both of Liquid’s cores without buyback.

Everyone thought that the game was over but Liquid’s Slardar and Willow were able to defend in a 3v5 scenario. After wiping the entire VP roster, the EU team just destroyed the throne.

Be sure to watch day two of the Playoffs tomorrow. We have some pretty amazing series coming up.

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