#BUT IN THIS ONE SHE APPARENTLY THOUGHT HE TURNED INTO A IMMORTAL DRAGON TOO OR SMT.

[thecluelessdoctor]

Finally SOMEONE says it.

Don't get me wrong, I rather like the game (animation and all the stupid shit you can do just makes me go feral lmao) but there are so many avoided implied things, and their all avoided to make Hyrule look good to not only the in-game public, but the players as well.

the Hyrule family were not good people at all. Sure, they ruled well, but anyone who tried and defy them would most likely be forced into submission. I mean, hell, the sheika people were forced to stop making their technology and be 'good', and they went with it probably after loosing HUNDREDS of people. And the few that actually had common sense and knew they shouldn't let Hyrule control them in such a way were to later be known as the Yiga clan, who probably believed in Ganon's cause to overthrow the kingdom of hyrule.

I am so sorry if this makes no sense, it's 3 AM lmao

Seeing as the Gerudo turned on Ganon, he might not have been that much better of a ruler.

First of all, we literally have no idea, because the only ancient Gerudo that we actually get to interact with is Ganondorf himself, and he has nothing to say about his own people. The ancient Gerudo sage doesn't count btw, she doesn't have a name, we never even see her face, and she has literally nothing to say except repeating the exact same dialogue as the sages for the other races. The narrative does not treat the ancient sages as people; they are four completely interchangable weapons that are owned by the royal family.

And secondly, I don't care how Ganon ruled them; the Gerudo only get one man every century, if their king sucks, they've obviously got their own system of government to fall back on. I have no idea what kind of authority the sages had among their own people, but honestly I'd say if the four of them were in charge of their respective people, then they were just puppet rulers appointed by Rauru, given that all four of them happily agreed that to sell their entire race into servitude the second Zelda asked them. Say what you will about Ganondorf, but I fucking know that if he was told the Gerudo people existed for the sole purpose of serving the glory of Hyrule, he'd drop kick Zelda into the fucking sun.

And don't get me started on the implications of the cultural differences we see between the independent Gerudo and the annexed Gerudo. The background Gerudo characters all have their own models, and we can clearly see that the ones siding with Ganon have their own unique looks - for example, the amazing lady with the mohawk that summons the molduga swarm in that one flashback. And men are never mentioned in these flashbacks at all, which implies that the Gerudo genuinely didn't care about settling down. Ganon even speaks derisively about marriage, implying that it's very rare for Gerudo women to make serious romantic commitments with men. It implies that their culture is more along the same line as their portrayal in OOT - they are a closed culture. Men trying to force their way into their areas are arrested, and mocked for being entitled dumbasses. Outsiders are only welcome if they can prove that they respect the Gerudo as people, and aren't just there to try and pick up chicks. It's never outright said, but OOT also makes it pretty clear that the Gerudo women just aren't interested in marrying outsiders - close relationships occur with other Gerudo, Hylian men are only considered useful for making babies.

Meanwhile the Gerudo we see serving Hyrule are all trying to measure up to Hylian beauty standards, and appeal to their men. Their one goal in life is to meet a man and get married. Men are welcome in their lands, and only kept out of the town itself... and even then, there's a small army of guys trying to force their way into the town anyways, which is brushed off as just haha, boys will be boys. No men allowed isn't even about independence, it's just a silly romantic tradition.

Of course this is just a fictional culture in a game world, but it's still really fucking uncomfortable that the 'evil' Gerudo are the ones that have independence, both politically and socially, and display a unique culture that refuses to tolerate disrespect from outsiders. Meanwhile the 'good' Gerudo are the ones that canonically exist to serve a kingdom where 95% of the population is light skinned (even setting aside the unfortunate implications, just saying one race exists to serve a different one is super fucked up), they have classes on how to be more appealing to Hylian's, and their entire social structure is built around finding a Hylian man to marry, making them all inherently dependent on the goodwill of outsiders. Even their biggest value of 'women only' is treated as a joke; men trying to trespass in BOTW are just shoved back out the door, letting them keep trying all day if they want. The crowds of men plotting to force their way in are laughed off as a joke. Nobody cares that there's a guy running laps around their city walls and trying to trick women into being alone with him. I mean for fucks sake, in TOTK we find that the creepy guy trying to lure women away has taken advantage of a massive disaster to get into the town, and he's still there once things return to normal. You can't kick him out, or alert anyone to his presence. And the Gerudo just tolerate Hylians blatantly ignoring their boundaries. For fucks sake, TOTK even reveals that the seven legendary heroines they've been revering the whole time were actually completely useless and unable to achieve anything... because they needed the eighth hero, a Hylian man to teach them basic tactics and do all the heavy lifting.

TOTK does not respect the Gerudo people in the slightest. It doesn't respect anyone who isn't Hylian or Zonai.

...This got a little off track, but the point I'm trying to make is, no, I don't consider the Gerudo turning on Ganon to mean anything. The entire game does not feel like the real story of what happened, it feels like the propaganda version of history meant to make Hyrule look as good as possible. I genuinely cannot believe that we're being told the real story about the Imprisoning War, because none of it feels real, and we don't get to know any details that might have made Hyrule look even slightly imperfect. We're told that Ganondorf is evil because he hates Hyrule, and he hates Hyrule because he's evil. The Gerudo people followed Ganondorf and saw him as a hero of their people, then suddenly he was their worst enemy. Hyrule is a perfect kingdom that has strong, equal alliances with the other races, but also all of the non-Hylian races exist for the sole purpose of serving Hyrule, and their leaders are expected to swear eternal loyalty and submission to the Hylian royal family. King Rauru and Queen Sonia united all of the races in peace and equality, which is why they're sitting on the world's supply of magical nuclear missiles, and every member of the Hylian royal family is allowed to walk around wearing them as cute accessories, but everyone else only gets them at the last second, and they all need to outright swear to only use that power to benefit Rauru and his descendants.

There's just so many fucked up contradictions, and so many hints of something more nuanced going on... but the story refuses to acknowledge any of it, and just keeps aggressively pushing the narrative that Hyrule is the ultimate good and couldn't possibly do anything wrong. I don't even believe that Ganon was a bad king honestly; we never hear why his people stopped following him. We also never even see if the Gerudo people turned on him at all; all we know is the ancient Gerudo sage wanted him dead, and given that she also happily sold her people into slavery, she's not exactly the most trustworthy source of information. All we know is that Ganondorf was a hero to his people, only one of his citizens is ever shown having an issue with him (and her motives are never explained), and then he lost the war and was sealed away, leaving his people open to be conquered by Zelda and annexed into Hyrule. By the time we see any Gerudo actually opposing Ganon (apart from the ancient sage), it's been ten thousand years since the war, and all anyone knows is the Hylian version of the story.

[ganondoodle]

this isnt as long as before but i just cannot stop thinking about this, why i dislike story and lore boils down to these main point

--the ending feels unsatisfying as hell even if i ignore everything i dont like about how the game treated zelda and ganondorf, the ending itself just feels, despite being presented as super epic an touching, incredibly empty to me and part of it is that it feels like an unearned return to status quo of course i didnt think zelda would stay a dragon and i actually wanted to help her, which is why i kept trying to hunt down impa since she said shes gonna search for a way for us to help zelda, bc i wanted to!! i was eager to help her!

i fully hoped and kinda expected that thered either be some kind of dragon dungeon (think, the water dragon from okami) tho that would be difficult since you can get items from her so i ended up thinking before going into the end thered be a mission with impa (or at least given to you from her) where she found answers in ancient scripts (that she told you she would look through) and that you need to find a special lil thing that will help zelda undragonfy, like some sort of ultra secret forbidden enigma stone able to reverse dragon transformations kinda deal (golden opportunity to make you go and talk to the yiga bc they might know or even own some ancient texts) that youd keep in your inventory until the very end and after you kill dragondorf (pretty mortal for becoming an immortal dragon huh) you take it out and use it, undragonfying zelda and ending in a similar epic falling and paralel to the beginning way

... and instead impa stays in the house and only has a few repeating dialog boxes and does nothing and you cant do anything bc in the end you just get randomly teleported (and stripped of your clothing AGAIN) into some weird ethereal plane somehow?? with the ghost of long ass dead sonia and apparently not as gone as i thought rauru (seriously i felt sad when he went poof at the end of the tutorial but i guess i shouldnt have) awkwardly blasting dragon zelda with some magic tm and its all reversed no problem (heck me for caring i guess) turns out helping her was killing an evil guy we never really knew and mineru just kinda says lol its bc time and light magic i guess lol as an explanation

like i really wanted to go and help zelda! i was motivated to do it and spent HOURS trying to find impa again but i wasnt allowed to do anything bc zelda gets saved by some deus ex machina bs in the end anyway, what a fool i was, of course killing the evil guy is the solution to everything >:( (and no i dont care if its meant as in uwu sonia and rauru wanted to help one last time uwu bc it doesnt change how unsatisfying it was to watch it all just kinda happen)

--point two is just how much totk feels like its trying to REPLACE botw instead of being a sequel, its not building on anything of it its ripping out the fundation and building its own thing in its place, like i was so excited to see what happened to the titans, and all the sheikah tech what they mabe had done in all that time now that theres a tech enthusiastic girl as the head of the monarchy, maybe even find out more about them and instead its just all ... gone with not explanation? theres isnt even a LAME explanation, its just gone?? you never find out what the ancient energy actually was, and why there were concentrations of it in the regions with the ancient furnace (well heck it didnt even have anything to do with ganondorf actualyl bc that would have been too interesting) bc that was so intrigueing?? like yeah where DID it come from and why is it there ?? and oh suddendly hey look theres an even MORE ancient and even MORE advanced civilization thats way COOLER and BETTER than the ancient sheikah now, they also built stuff everywhere and have been here ALL ALONG cant you see its everywhere!! and its the only thing everyone cares about all of the sudden, all evdidence of the ancient sheikah tech was scraped of the earth so there literally only being some guardian parts on top of the hateno lab feels like an oversight now bc everything lese was to thourohgly wiped of the map- for no reason even?? like im totalls fine with it being useless and not working anymore but .... why remove it like it was wiped from history?? and then they have the gall to mention the happenings of botw like, twice in the entire game but still just give you the most basic summary of it mentioned on a sidenote with again not even a hint what happened to all of it

wouldnt there have been the golden opportunity to use it to access the new parts and map points that changed?? like a shrine thats fallen into the underground, an access to caves and the underground in the broken and collapsed elevator tube of a sheikah srhine?? maybe even a broken interior of an old shrine, like the room you get put into with the puzzle and where the monk once were broken and half overgrown in the udnerground? some left over construction site where you can see oh thats how the ancient sheikah got all that tech underground, bc they all had access to it and built it there to then rise up when its needed? maybe even making use of the old sonau sites since they frequnetly built their srhines within those ruins?? that the ancient sheikah found em and put the ruins to use? to research it and built their own stuff from it? it wouldnt have to have any focus, literally just part of the enviroment even

really everything totk does is like -forget botw ever happend, look how much cooler and better i am, who cares about sheikah stuff sonau are the new cool guys that came out of nowhere but now apparently have been everywhere all along actually-

i LOVE botw and with it feeling much more like its attempting to replace botw instead of building its story and world further every reference to botw i found felt like a slap in the face instead, oh look where the shrine of life used to be isnt even a hint left of sheikah tech somehow, and also right under it is the lake of healing filled with sonau structure bc ACTUALLY they were here FIRST bc they are so cool omg you guys

dare i say it feel a little like they wanted to make an entirely different version of botw basically, but wanted to reuse the map and models so they just said yeah uhhhh its totally a sequel yeah yeha that makes sense, its not erasing botw and doing essentiall the same thing again but bigger cooler and better (tm) its just uuh a ...sequel ye.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 6: The Artists of the future

“Can we go into the back room?” Chapman asks Kim.

“The bosses are back there busy doing payroll,” she replies.

“Ah. Hm.”

I glance around at everyone, and then say one word with my tablet, “Roof.”

“Oh?” Ptarmigan asks.

“Yes,” I say.

Rhoda sighs and thumps her cane.

—

So then, after getting us up onto the roof of my building without notice, where I sleep and sun myself, and what I consider to be my home, Chapman explains most of the details that Ptarmigan has glossed over.

Kimberly remarks early on that Nathan is going to be so annoyed that he’s being left out.

Kim says Cerce and Jill will be, too.

“We’ll fill them in,” Rhoda says, looking meaningfully at Chapman. She’s sitting on a folding stool she brought up from her apartment.

So, according to Chapman, Ptarmigan wasn’t lying about anything, nor telling the full truth.

They’ve been calling themselves Artists, or words that mean a similar thing, since language was invented. And while Chapman had said to us, when we first met, that people like hir had awoken years before dragons did, sie hadn’t specified how many. Eons are, after all, collections of years.

Both Chapman and Ptarmigan are quick and decisive to say that they are not gods. Spirits might be a better description, but they’re both put off by that word as well. They like being called Artists.

Lots of humans have called them gods or spirits before, though. There’s a history there that seems to rankle them both.

Also, there are considerably less Artists than there are dragons. Apparently, somewhere around nine-hundred thousand of them. And their numbers do not shrink or grow, but they are somehow still mortal, in a sense. Though, immortal in a sense as well.

Chapman seems very reluctant to explain that, so Ptarmigan does.

“Oh, come on. We incarnate at will,” she says. “And we experience death like everyone else. Just, maybe more often.”

“So, this time around you’re forty-nine years old?” Kimberly asks.

“No.”

Chapman scoffs and keeps explaining things.

Each Artist has their own medium that no other Artist has, and they can use it to do all sorts of things. Again, there’s reluctant vagueness there, but my amulet of human disguise that lets me look like a pretransition Chapman is pointed to as an example. An Artist’s medium isn’t necessarily pen and paper or clay or something like that. It’s more a particular aspect of spacetime and existence itself, which can then be manipulated more easily with various mundane mediums than with others. So Ptarmigan’s work will not look nor function the same way as Chapman’s, for example, even though they can both use pen and paper to do their Arts.

These Arts of theirs aren’t the end all be all of what they can do. They, of course, have metaphysical functions that are like biological processes that they all share. There’s a basic nature to them that is beyond what human science can currently explain.

And, they actually don’t know how they came into being any more than anyone else does. We’re told by our parents or guardians, upon gaining awareness and memory that sticks, that we were born from our mothers. But very, very few of us actually know that’s true or remember that happening. And no one was there to tell the Artists where they came from.

Now, when it comes to Artists being responsible for the existence of dragons, Chapman has a disagreement with Ptarmigan. While Ptarmigan claims that there is an obvious direct connection, like it was the act of a single Artist, Chapman contradicts her harshly and definitively.

Chapman turns to me and says, “I’ve been studying dragons far longer than anyone like Ptarmigan can even have thought about you. And from what I can tell, you and humanity exist because of each other. We Artists may have shaped your destinies together, and influenced the way the world has turned out, though I’d argue that that’s giving us way too much credit, too. But you would have evolved together regardless.”

“Sure,” Ptarmigan says, not at all agreeing by the use of that word.

“Dragons are like the id of life itself made manifest through humanity’s dreaming,” Chapman says. “Though ‘id’ is a terrible word for it. It’s so annoyingly accurate but misunderstood anyway. And coined by a person who only saw part of what he was trying to talk about.”

“That last bit I can agree with,” Ptarmigan says.

Chapman keeps talking, eying Ptarmigan with a furrowed brow, “And if we Artists hadn’t chosen apes to work with to cultivate civilization, it would have been a different species, but dragons would still exist. You’d have just manifested through their dreams instead. Heck, for all anyone’s investigated, there could be octopus dragons under the ocean right now.”

“That’s a neat idea, but twenty bucks says there aren’t. I’ll check.”

“Would you?”

“Not yet.”

“Fine.”

“Now, crow dragons. I think I might have to concede your point, because I bet there are crow dragons, like, right now,” Ptarmigan says.

“Would they be about this big?” Kim asks, holding her hands up to indicate something maybe slightly larger than a crow.

“Maybe,” Ptarmigan says. “But they’d be dragons. They could get bigger.”

And then everyone looks at me.

I get the gist.

I sit up on my haunches as straight as I can and look at Chapman and then at Rhoda, trying to gauge by how tall they look to me whether I’ve grown or not.

I feel like I have, but I can’t tell.

“Yeah, you’ve grown,” Ptarmigan says.

“How long have you been watching her?” Kimberly asks, wrinkling her nose.

“At least as long as Chapman has,” replies the Artist in black.

“I –” Chapman starts to say, then scrunches hir mouth shut and pouts. Then sie says, “We literally first met a couple Tuesdays ago, right outside our counselor’s office. I was taken by surprise then, and Meg can vouch for me I think. If you’ve been watching her longer than that. Well, you’re the stalker, not me.”

Ptarmigan remains quiet.

“How big is Meg likely to get?” Kim asks in the silence.

“I don’t know,” Chapman says. “Dragons are said to come in all sizes. She could stop growing at the size of a cow, or the size of a school bus, or… bigger? I don’t know.”

Shit.

I like my coffee, and I like my coffee shop, and I don’t want to not be able to go in there anymore.

The idea of being able to step on a twerp of a dragon who’s that much smaller than me, if I have to, is appealing. More appealing than being the twerp who gets stepped on. But I have my domain, and I don’t want to lose it to my natural state of growth, dammit.

I open my mouth to say one of my thirteen words, but then my whole esophagus convulses.

Oh, no.

I just felt lumps in my gizzard move to my crop.

There’s another convulsion, and it causes me to whip my neck downward and aim my head at the rooftop, mouth wide open. Nothing comes out yet, but it’s going to. And everyone watches in mild horror and curiosity. And I don’t like it.

I feel embarrassed.

This feels like something I should be doing in a bathroom.

I drag myself away from the group, closing my mouth forcefully and trying not to let my throat convulse anymore. And I scramble over to the farthest corner of the building just in time to hork up an owl pellet and two small river rocks that look all polished and kinda slimy.

Then I sit up straight and look over my shoulder at everyone with my left eye.

“What if,” Kimberly says to Chapman while everyone else is still staring at me, “you refine that disguise you made for her to do something cool, like, allow me to be a dog?”

Chapman looks at her in disbelief that she’d just come out of left field with that question at a time like this, but then says, “I never told you I made that disguise.”

“Oh, come on,” Kimberly says. “Can you do it?”

“Of course.”

Kimberly points at me, and says, “Then you could also make a disguise for her that just makes her this smaller version of herself, right? So she can keep coming into the shop?”

“How did you know I was worried about that?” Kim asks.

Kimberly looks at her with friendly incredulity, and says, “We’re the Kims.”

“Right!”

There’s just. There’s something really special about knowing a couple of people who sometimes worry about the same things you do, and who end up asking the questions you wanted to ask when you can’t.

“That would be much easier than disguising you as a dog or Meg as a human,” Chapman says, after a pause of worried consideration.

“Well, I think we should get on that, then,” Kimberly says. “It could come in handy.”

I’m not growing that fast, but I’m not going to argue, either.

“Why did you ask about being a dog first?” Kim looks up at Kimberly.

Kimberly looks down at her and smirks and says, “Woof.”

Kim rolls her eyes and says, “You’d be such a mutt, too.”

“Already am, sweetheart!”

“I can’t,” Chapman starts to say, but then, hands halfway gestured toward the rooftop, turns to look at Ptarmigan.

“Are you gonna ask me a question?” Ptarmigan asks.

“What’s the ‘collaborative piece’ you want to work on?” Chapman asks back.

“What do you think would help best to bring an equilibrium of peace between humans and dragons?”

“I really don’t know.”

��OK. Then what do you think would help best to let us Artists live openly and freely as ourselves?” Ptarmigan asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Wanna find out?”

“Are you saying you have an idea?” Chapman questions her.

“I could. I suppose. But what I’m suggesting is that we work together to discover the best idea,” Ptarmigan says. “And maybe ask your friends here to help, too.”

“I might think better as a dog,” Kimberly says, and Kim punches her in the arm.

Ptarmigan points at Kimberly and says, “That might be a start, actually.”

To which Chapman folds hir arms again and scowls, “Are you sure you’re not Raven?”

“Nah. I’m from back East and a bit North, most of the time.”

“It took me the better part of five years to make that pendant that I gave Meghan,” Chapman says. “It was a prototype, and I can definitely make the next one more easily, but it’ll probably take another couple of years if it’s significantly different. It’s just on the edge of my Art, not really part of it. I maybe shouldn’t have been able to do it at all. But I did have big plans for it. Is that why you’re here, Ptarmigan?”

Ptarmigan sighs and puts her hands in her pockets, “I’m going to have to say, ‘yes’.”

“Is it in your Art to be able to do these disguises any easier?” Chapman asks.

“No,” Ptarmigan replies.

Chapman spreads hir arms out and juts hir head forward in a circular motion, eyes wide, lips scrunched up.

And then Ptarmigan turns to look at me and says, “She, on the other hand….”

What?

What?

—

Everyone is sitting in a semicircle around me, right on the black rooftop, though Rhoda is still on her stool. It’s getting to be mid afternoon. Our conversation is long and involved, and the Kims both have mentioned offhand that they need to go home or do something else, but this is too important.

Rhoda, Chapman, and Ptarmigan all have nothing better to do than to focus on me. I appreciate it with Rhoda and Chapman, but with Ptarmigan my feelings remain so mixed.

But, now I’ve got my tablet in front of me, and everyone waits for me to communicate to the best of my ability. And I’m taking the time to ask my questions as precisely as possible, because it’s that important.

“Am I an Artist?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Ptarmigan says.

“Neither do I,” Chapman adds.

“Should I know?” I ask.

“There have definitely been cases where Artists have forgotten who and what they are,” Chapman says. “And, we don’t always recognize each other. Our memories are fluid and sometimes very elusive. It gets that way when you exist for long enough.”

“That,” Ptarmigan points at Chapman.

“Why do you think I can do disguises?” I look at Ptarmigan.

“Well,” she says, looking down at her crossed ankles and working her thumbnails under each other. “My own divinations have shown that the dragon awakening was centered on you. It rippled outward from you. And, you do tend to notice it when someone uses their Art on you in some way.”

Chapman scowls at her, “You really have been stalking us.”

“How could I not?” Ptarmigan asks.

“I don’t know. By just not stalking us?”

“I was lurking. Like in a forum.”

“Rude.”

“It’s not considered rude when it’s online.”

“There’s a users list!”

“Not on every site.”

“Children!” Rhoda interjects. “Let Meghan ask her questions.”

They both fall silent and turn to me again.

“What if I’m not an Artist and can’t do disguises?” I ask next.

“Then we’ll have to try working on something else,” Ptarmigan says.

“Why disguises? Why will those help?” I follow up.

“Well,” Ptarmigan says. “Before this, you identified as a therian, correct?”

“Yes.”

“But there were a bunch of therians who did not change into dragons.”

“Yes.”

“Or whatever else they are.”

“Yes.”

“What if we had a mass awakening, or mass metamorphosis of the rest of the therians, otherkin, alterhumans, and other non-humans, whatever they call themselves?” Ptarmigan asks. “One like the one we just had, where initially it just fits, and everyone close to the subjects understands them better and doesn’t outright reject them? Wouldn’t that be neat?”

I know it would make a lot of people really happy. And I think I can kind of see the reasoning behind the idea, but it also sounds like so much more chaos in the long run. I wonder.

I make to type something out, but Ptarmigan interrupts to elaborate.

“What I’m suggesting is that we make the problem that people like Säure are trying to ‘fix’ just so much bigger than they can address,” she says. “Force the issue. Make it undeniably the new reality.”

“You mean, I’d have to be a real dog?” Kimberly asks. “All the time?”

“Do you want to be?” Ptarmigan asks.

“I actually don’t know,” Kimberly responds. “I actually kind of like being a doggirl instead of a girldog. But I’d love to see what being a girldog is like for at least a little bit. Maybe… Yeah. A werepoodle.”

“Poodle?!” Kim nearly shouts at her.

“You’ve seen Cody,” Kimberly says. “That dude’s so chill.”

“Children,” Rhoda says, more quietly this time.

Everyone looks at me again.

“Is this really a good idea?” I ask. And then I look at each of my friends after looking at Ptarmigan, inviting them to speak up as well.

Rhoda clears her throat and takes a moment to make sure everyone is looking at her, then says, “It’s the just idea. Allowing everyone to live authentically as their true selves is just. It’s right. It’s the way the universe should be. But how we go about it? That’s the Thing. Isn’t it?” She looks at me, and asks, “Can you make it so that every new baby that’s born doesn’t have the dysphoria? That they are born the way they’re supposed to be?”

I go to type on my tablet in response, but she asks more questions.

“Can you make it so that all the world’s laws are changed gracefully to accept how these newly out people will exist, and make accommodations for them? Can you guarantee that there won’t be more violence?”

“No,” I say, and I huff. This is the first time I’ve heard her be this stern and demanding of me, and it feels really jarring and uncomfortable. But it would also be nice if she let me fully talk in response.

She’s scowling at me silently, waiting, but glancing alternatively at Chapman and Ptarmigan as well.

I take a deep breath and angrily knuckled out a sentence, feeling rushed, “I not Artist or god, no idea, don’t know.” Then I add, “I Meghan.”

“That’s what I thought,” Rhoda concludes. Then she turns to Chapman and Ptarmigan and says, “I also think you two, and the rest of your kind, should learn to let mortals handle their own affairs.”

Oh. Huh. Shit. I feel like this is changing the dynamic of my whole social group, and my potential partnerships with Rhoda and Chapman. I don’t like it. I don’t want it. And it already feels too late.

But also, I see a problem.

“No,” I say.

“What?” Rhoda asks, snapping her attention back to me.

I stomp a foot and then type out my response, “Other Artists won’t stop because you ask. We need these two.”

Rhoda sighs and says, “I understand that, Meghan. I really do. But I’m saying what I’m saying for a reason. It needs to be said.”

I tilt my head. I’d frown, but my face doesn’t actually do that.

“It’s what we need to be working for,” Rhoda explains to me, focusing so intently on me that I feel like her words aren’t meant for the others to acknowledge in any way. “If we don’t state that clearly from the beginning and don’t all agree to it, then I can’t be part of this. And I don’t think you should be, either.”

“Amen,” Kimberly says.

Rhoda glances at her, but turns back to me.

“Okay, “ I say. Then use my tablet to say, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Rhoda says. “But thank you.”

—

The conversation wound down pretty quick after that, and everyone finally left when Nathan showed up at the shop with three pounds of ground chuck for me as a welcome home gift.

Nobody wanted to see me eat that, but I am so grateful for it.

I’m pretty sure that there’s an office window to the East of me where, if you were to sit in that office and look out that window toward the sunset, you’d see me silhouetted against the sun, head up and back, jaws open and working, choking down some locally grown, grass fed, ethically sourced ground beef.

No river rocks needed.

The thing is, I enjoy eating like this. It looks uncomfortable, but my body is made for it and while I don’t really get flavors I enjoy, the sensations of eating this way feel good. I’m satisfied in a way that no human will ever experience.

If I want flavors, I just stick my tongue out and taste the air. But when I’m in the city I try not to do that too much.

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Manuscript Search Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @elshells, @serenanymph and @spuddlespud! :D

Words: expression, challenge, course, protest, return, embark, horizon, run, rain, real and road. These are from The Power and the Glory:

Expression:

Lian donned his calmest, most gentle smile. That particular smile was notorious all through the palace for being his default expression in unpleasant situations. One of the princes attempted a coup? An argument broke out between the imperial physicians? Someone dropped dead in the middle of a banquet? No matter what sort of event he was witnessing, Lian always wore the same smile. It drove most of the palace out of their minds. You could understand a man who scowled and grumbled, but what were you to make of a man who just smiled when any sane person would be furious?

Challenge:

"She'll be along to collect you soon," Death said. "In the meantime... I don't suppose you know how to play chess? Winning or losing won't change your fate, of course. You've no idea how many people challenge me to chess in the hope I'll send them back if they win. It'd be a nice change to play against someone without that motive."

Course:

If Irímé was asked to decide what sort of animal he'd like to be stuck in the form of, he probably would have chosen a dog or bird. Not a dragon. Of course, if given the choice he would much rather not be stuck in any form. But if he had to be, a small one would be better. Much easier to avoid notice that way. It was impossible to avoid notice when you were a dragon.

Protest:

A small part of Irímé's mind was reluctantly impressed by how easily Abi had thrown Haliran around. Telekinetically picking up an inanimate object was harder than it looked. Use too much force and it would shoot up to the ceiling. Use too little and it wouldn't move at all. Telekinetically picking up a person, who was much heavier than, say, a book and much more likely to protest, was something very few immortals could do. For an adolescent immortal to toss an adult around the room with enough force to break a bone... Well, no wonder Abi could do impossible things like raise the dead. She clearly had far more magical power than anyone realised.

Return:

Mirio could think of at least eight people who would not be at all comforted by his presence. All of them were his cousins and all of them would want him to go home so they could return to backstabbing each other in peace.

Embark:

At least when they disembarked at Veiteos there was no longer much chance of Shizuki asking him to go flying. Maybe that was why Irímé now had time to notice something was wrong.

Horizon:

Again the noise stopped. It went on like this, starting and stopping and each time getting closer, for what felt like hours. The moon passed overhead and sank towards to the horizon. Although the monsters were there they remained stubbornly out of sight.

Run:

Years ago Abi and Irímé had discussed what a phoenix might look like. None of the storybooks could agree on their colour or size. Irímé had thought they would be bright red while Abi thought they were more likely orange or golden. It turned out both of them were wrong. Apparently phoenixes were a mixture of very vivid blue and dark green. If he hadn't known better he would have assumed Abi had somehow gained a peacock's wings. Oh, and they were on fire too. Abi didn't seem too perturbed by this fact. Otherwise Irímé would have run for a bucket of water.

Rain:

Two hundred years ago a rival kingdom had attacked Tananerl. Ilaran had frightened them away by conjuring torrential rain to turn the road they took into a morass.

Or so the story went. What actually happened was much less supernatural. Ilaran and his generals knew the terrain of the area. The road ran through a flat plain bordered by steep cliffs. They knew that when rain fell in the mountains beyond the cliffs, a few days later it would come sweeping down on the plain. A person travelling across the plain would have no warning until the deluge began.

Real:

After the first two days the gossip about Mirio and Lian's supposed engagement mostly died down. Somehow or other word got out that Abi was a notorious troublemaker -- which was true -- and that led to the rumour that she'd probably eloped with Lian herself -- which was so far from the truth that Mirio found it a real struggle to keep a straight face. That rumour was widely believed in the court. Mirio almost felt sorry for Abi. Almost.

Road:

In the distance Kitri gradually became aware of a sound. It was grass rustling in the wind. But there was no wind. And it was feet thudding against the road. But no one would go for a walk without a torch, and she didn't see any light. It dawned on her that singing, even quietly and incoherently, had been a very bad idea.

Tagging @silvertalonwritblr, @mrbexwrites, @eccaiia, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D Can’t be bothered thinking of new words, so just pick some from mine :D

[nerdasaurus1200]

I saw Dragon Prince season 4 and hoo boy do I have thoughts (in no particular order)

First off, it's adorable how much of a magic nerd Callum is. He's grown so much and become so much stronger in two years

Stella is baby. She's living her best life with her cuddlemama and future cuddle papa. Speaking of, let Callum becalled a cuddlepapa by himself or Rayla next season

Zym and Ezran have grown up so much and it both breaks and warms my heart

Okay, so Rayla is a Dragonguard. Good to know.

Terry is my son now. I adopted him, he's mine.

I feel like Callum is just a little bit jealous of Stella getting love from Rayla

“The other elves saw me as a doe, but I knew. I always knew that I was a buck. I..chose the name Terrestrius.”....This line here. This line is gonna stick with me forever. I honestly didn't expect them to outright tell or show us Terry is trans but I'm so glad. That's gonna mean so much to trans kids watching this show. And the fact that Viren has no problems with it at all makes it even more special. Although Terry's wording makes me wonder if someone in his family didn't accept him.

Oh man I just read his wiki page and apparently Terry is still mid transition

I'm calling it now, that girl that figured out Araavos is Harrow and Ezran's descendant

Well, at least we know how loyal Terry is to Claudia.....someone get this poor boy a mug of hot cocoa, a blanket, a hug, and a therapist; he's earned it. He was 100% having a panic attack

"I'm gonna feel all the feelings!" THAT'S RIGHT YOU GO MY FUNKY BOY

I KNEW IT! I KNEW RAYLA'S PARENTS WERE IN THE COINS!GOD POOR RAYLA! ETHARI AND CALLUM ARE GONNA LOSE THEIR SHIT!

Hot damn, Ezran's speech combined with Ibis and Claudia fighting was powerful...that whole scene really encapsulates what the entire show is about, I think

Zubeia gets more and more badass with every episode

I wasn't expecting the chocolate tart to be brought back but it's nice that Rex Igneous liked it. Although how could he taste so much of such a little thing?

Ohhhhh wait, I just got that! Rex means king, he's KING Igneous!

Oh man I had no idea Ezran's crown is made from Harrow's sword

That possesion scene was straight up creepy, I honestly thought Callum died for a second

Speaking of creepy, I never wanna see snake Claudia again, please and thank you

I know Callum is angry at Rayla but he needs to talk to her, really. I feel like he's using the possession thing as an excuse to not talk about their relationship. Like, I do think he's genuinely shaken up by it but he's choosing to focus on that because it's easier

Soren...god, Soren has changed so much. In just 3 years, this boy has gone from picking fights with dragons and being eager to kill them to not being able to turn away from a dragon in need. He even shed his armor for her. Season 1 Soren would NEVER have done that in a million years

Another thing S1 Soren would never do is that talk with Claudia. Man, that was deep.

Also I love Soren's new look, I feel like it suits him way better than his knight armor

I dunno why I expected an out of the gate dramatic conversation when Soren found Claudia. Although I am glad we still got them having that conversation

I will say though, I do wish we got more of a reaction to Terry from Soren

Can Squeaky return next season as Soren's dragon pal? Please? he's the only one that doesn't have an animal companion

"I wanna spend the last month traveling with my daughter, the most important person in the world to me" I....it's nice that you're finally learning to not be a jackass Viren, but did you forget that you have a son??? Is Soren just chopped liver to you?

That said, I do appreciate that Viren has changed. I feel like he's definitely not gonna become immortal.

Regarding Claudia's speech about human suffering....either she's been fed TONS of propaganda by Araavos or she's taking it way too personally after all this time. Like, girl, you have an elf boyfriend, calm down

Awww the return of big feelings time!

[heliads]

Okay, so I didn't think anyone wrote for Hiccup till I saw your Hiccup x norse goddess thing, and I was hoping you could maybe do a part two? Where like, she visits again, but when she arrives, Thor arrives (same personality as MCU Thor), and they're good siblings, but they tease each other and have a sparring match, flexing their magic, and Hiccup and Stoick are just speechless, and Gobber just teases Hiccup with something like "So this is the type of woman you get to have when you're the almighty Dragon Conqueror" thank you in advance!

love the surge in hiccup requests we're having rn

part one / masterlist / part three

True to your word, you stay away from Berk. You’re used to staying alone for centuries, with no company but the relentless wear of the waves and the occasional drowned souls who make their way through to your kingdom in the sea. Each storm-tossed sailor has a story to tell before they go to the land of the dead, and you hear their lives as you always do. You watch the salt water eat away at everything but your stubbornly immortal body, and although it has never troubled you, it does now.

Maybe it’s because you got a little too used to what it was like up there, above the shore. Now that you’ve lived a little, seen rocky coastlines and loved them not for the waters that beat them but the people who walk them, you don’t quite feel the same. Mainly, though, you feel different because you met a boy, and left him.

You can’t seem to stop yourself from thinking about him. Gods aren’t supposed to get attached to mortals, or if they do, they’re supposed to lose interest after a few weeks. It’s been months now, months after you first left your ocean to visit Berk in the first place and months since you left it. Still, you turn your memories of that place over and over in your head, polishing them just as well as any piece of seaglass sparkling on the beaches.

Hiccup thinks about you too, you can tell. The sea dragons whisper to you sometimes, telling you of a boy with dark brown hair hanging in his eyes, who stands at the edge of the cliffline where you’d left and stares into the water for hours, hoping to see a face looking back at him that isn’t his own.

No matter how hard Hiccup searches, though, he never sees you. You’ve made sure of that. Odin only sent you to him as a messenger and questioner, and although he never went to the trouble of warning you away from him, it was implied that you would conduct your business and leave. No one told you what to do when the seas suddenly seemed empty and alone, when instead of exploring every corner of the ocean you only dream of a life up above.

You swore that you wouldn’t go back unless asked, though. Hiccup said that he’d extend an invitation, and about six months later, he does. The letter comes locked away inside a protective shield of rock, a cylinder about the height of a small dagger that’s clearly been chiseled away by hand so as to keep the paper inside safe from the water.

You open it in the relative safety of an air bubble, willing the water away with nothing more than a thought. Your fingers trace the letters, the splashes of ink. Hiccup wants you back, he says. Well, he doesn’t put it quite so plainly.

Instead, he talks to you about the dragons, what he’s seen since you left and what he forgot to mention in the months you spent on his island. Apparently, the same friends who were so easy to judge on your first day won’t stop talking about you. Even Astrid laughs over how quickly she dismissed you, and has been practicing in preparation for the next time you visit.

If you chose to visit, that is. Despite the fact that Hiccup’s gone to the trouble of contacting you, he still seems unwilling to commit to anything, least of all showing the emotion to hope you’ll come again. He doesn’t have to hide anything, though- you can sense it, the yearning melancholy that lingers around Berk. You miss him just as much, and so you make up your mind to go back, just as Hiccup asked.

Before you can embark on your journey, though, a flash of light rippling through your undersea kingdom indicates that a god is about to arrive at your home. Curious, you watch the glowing aura widen into the silhouette of a man. Could Odin have found out about your latest decision and sent someone to stop you? It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, gods visit mortals all the time.

This isn’t Odin, though, it’s your brother. Thor, god of thunder, is considered by many gods to be either a hero or a nuisance, a braggart and a courageous warrior and someone who is dangerous to be around but especially so when he’s worked his way through a few rounds of mead.

To you, he’s all of those combined, plus a friend. You raise an eyebrow at him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Thor grins broadly. “I figured it had been a while since I last saw my favorite sister, and I wanted to change that.”

You laugh. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be picking favorites among any gods. We get offended all the time.”

Thor shrugs. “If anyone attempted to challenge me on it, I would meet them gladly in brutal combat and win.”

You roll your eyes, but do so through a smile. Although you and Thor can seem like complete opposites, it’s good to see him, and you say as much.

Thor nods gravely. “Of course it’s good to see me. We are family, after all.”

You give him a look. “That doesn’t have to mean anything. So, are you just here on a catch-up, or-”

Thor shakes his head dramatically, and shocks of thunder can be heard even down here, miles below the sea line. “No, I’m afraid not. You have seen through me, sister. I heard that you recently went to visit the Dragon Conqueror and I wanted to hear the news.”

A plan is forming in your mind, and you grin at the thought of it. “Actually, Thor, I’ve got something even better. I was planning on paying Berk another visit. Would you want to come with me to check out the Dragon Conqueror for yourself?”

Thor beams ear to ear, brighter than a shock of lightning. “I would like nothing more. I do hope this Dragon Conqueror is up to a challenge.”

You chuckle to yourself. Hiccup’s going to kill you for this. Or think about it, maybe. He’s not enough an idiot to actually attempt to murder an immortal. “Oh, I bet he is.”

A small crowd is awaiting you at the shoreline when you finally walk up from the waves. Hiccup walks quickly to your side, looking happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Y/N! I’m glad to see that you could make it.”

He pauses a moment, then confides something in a whisper so no one else can hear it. “I missed you.”

You reach out to touch him gently on the shoulder. “I missed you too.”

And you have. The sea has never felt so lonely, so quiet. Already, even after having been here a mere couple of moments, you feel more alive than you have since you left.

Thunder rumbles overhead, and you smile. “Oh, I forgot to mention something. Would you mind if I bring a guest?”

Hiccup nods slowly. “Sure. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Out of curiosity, who’s coming?”

You tilt your head towards the sky as lightning flashes. “Thor.”

Beside you, Hiccup blanches. “Wait, you mean-”

The rest of his words are drowned out by a crackle of thunder, loud enough to roll across the island and bend the trees from the sheer force of the sound. Moments later, a god is standing beside you, clad in a warrior’s armor and carrying a hammer engraved with intricate symbols, heavy enough to crash through anyone’s skull.

You glance over at him. “Bit dramatic of an entrance, don’t you think?”

Thor scoffs. “You have no sense of the gravity of the situation. I’d say that I was just fine. If anything, it was a little tame.”

Hiccup’s friends have started to come over, attracted by the arrival of an unexpected god. Astrid is trying her best not to seem overly impressed, but her eyes keep going wide.

“Are you-”

Thor nods gravely. “Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, Hlóriði, Scion of Asgard, Wielder of Mjolnir-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Alright, alright. They get the point.”

You’re not sure who looks more surprised, the Vikings that you’re able to interrupt Thor so easily or Thor that you’d stop him when he was just getting started.

Hiccup is the first to speak. “Well, Thor, it is an honor to have you on our island.”

Thor just grins. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Visiting mortals is a fun little hobby of mine. Besides, didn’t you conquer dragons or something? I’m a big fan of that.”

Hiccup glances over at you questioningly, and you bite back a grin. “I’m glad the two of you are hitting it off so nicely. Thor, how about we head further into the village? I’m sure there are a few other warriors who would just love to meet you.”

Thor’s face brightens. “An excellent idea. I shall see you there.”

He starts up the path and you follow him, chuckling. You weren’t entirely sure how well this would go, but you’re not sure you mind it. Besides, it’s so good to be back that you’re okay with Thor being dramatic. You’ve barely exchanged a few words with Hiccup, but just being able to see him again is enough for you. Gods aren’t supposed to lose themselves on mortals, but you’re starting to think that it’s a little late for that now.

The other Vikings fall into rank beside you, and you and Astrid start talking about various comings and goings of the world. The two of you quickly became friends despite the mishap of your first visit, and you’re fairly sure that both of you would be glad to move on from it. Besides, Astrid brings news of all the times she’s caught Hiccup moping around waiting for you to return, which thrills you a little more than it should.

Despite your conversation, you can still pick up snatches of whispers behind you. Hiccup and Gobber are talking, and you think they’re talking about you.

Right now, Gobber’s chortling to himself. “Honestly, my boy, I don’t know how you do it. First this business with the dragons, then taking over more leadership roles from your father, and getting people to agree. You’re doing well for yourself.”

Hiccup smiles quietly. “Well, I appreciate your thoughts. It’s been hard, sure, but-”

Gobber elbows him in the side, a gesture that was likely intended to be friendly but ends up shoving Hiccup a few inches to the side. “Oh, it looks good now, doesn’t it? You’ve got Thor on your own doorstep, plus the queen of the seas visiting for fun. So this is the type of woman you get to have when you’re the almighty Dragon Conqueror. Maybe I need to look into doing some of that myself.”

Hiccup’s eyes are wide, and he seems unable to respond. You turn back to Astrid with a grin that hadn’t been there before. Maybe this visit will be more fun than you’d imagined.

disney tag list: @lovesanimals0000

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part I

Ahh I can’t believe it’s finally done! After a year of working on this beast, it’s finally ready for me to share. This is something I started way back last summer, and I decided to finish it as my project for this year’s @geraskierbigbang. It will be ten parts in total, and I will post one part per day until it is complete! There are several art pieces that were created by the wonderful @herostag​ and Miranda.draws for this story, which I will link when the appropriate section is posted. For a summary and further links, please see the masterpost.

Next | Ao3 | Masterpost

“Alright,” Geralt said. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Yennefer looked up at him with bright eyes, curious and already mirthful. She was sitting across from him in his quarters, reading through a tome she’d found in Kaer Morhen’s disheveled library. Geralt had just come from a bath after hours spent training Ciri in the yard, and the room was filled with the warm evening light, supplemented by the fire crackling in the hearth. Yennefer had insisted on carting dozens of tapestries and drapes to hang around the drafty keep, and the room was nearly stuffy with their bulk keeping the heat in.

Yennefer gave him an amused smirk. “I will make no such promises before I even know what you’re going to say.” The gentle teasing brought a fond smile to Geralt’s face. After the events of the mountain all those years ago, things had been understandably tense. Yennefer had been reluctant to join them when she had finally met up with Geralt after Sodden, but had eventually agreed to seek refuge in the witchers’ keep and teach Ciri to control her magic. Once she’d met the girl it had all been a wash; it was clear as soon as their eyes met across the room that Yennefer was as much a part of Ciri’s destiny as Geralt was.

Geralt had expected that to either mend the rift between them enough for things to go back to the way things were, or make things even more awkward. Instead, they found themselves in a sort of in-between. Over the years his affection for Yennefer had only grown, but he found himself looking to her more and more as a friend—maybe his best friend. After Jaskier, of course.

Speaking of. “I was thinking about Jaskier.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes obviously. “As you are so frequently wont to do. The thaw will come soon enough, dear, and you can run off in search of your bard.”

Geralt felt his ears grow warm. Witchers couldn’t blush, not truly, but he still felt the tingle of it as he fidgeted with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, absently tracing a finger against the grain of the wooden table. There were two goblets of wine sitting between them, but so far neither of them had begun to drink. “Do you know how many winters it’s been since I found Ciri?”

If she was confused by the odd turn in subject matter, Yennefer didn’t show it. Instead she looked thoughtful. “Two, perhaps three? You know I don’t follow the seasons with diligence.”

“Neither do I,” Geralt agreed. “I was thinking the same though, two or three years since the fall of Cintra. Which means Jaskier is…” He paused, trying to do the math. “He was a few years past forty, during the dragon hunt, I think. He must be closer to fifty now than not.”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him. “I recall mentioning something about his crows feet. What of it? Humans age. Are you only just discovering this?”

Geralt forced himself not to grumble. In a way, he was only discovering it. He’d known humans across the years, of course, and knew that many that he’d once been acquainted with were no longer alive or were in their twilight years. For decades Geralt had wandered through the world, changing no more than a ghost would, touching the lives of regular mortals for a brief instance, maybe a few times if they were particularly unlucky. No one had stayed by his side, dedicated themselves to a relationship with him, the way that the bard had. The amount of devotion that Jaskier showed to him had made Geralt antsy, in earlier years, and then confused and angry by turn. He had hated the idea of someone needing him, had hated needing someone in return. The way his chest felt heavy when he and Jaskier parted ways had left him furious with himself and the bard.

And then Ciri came into his life, and everything had changed so quickly.

With Ciri, it didn’t matter whether Geralt felt like he should care for her, or if he wanted to. He needed to. Without him, the girl would die, or be kidnapped by Nilfgaard for who knows what purpose. He had to feed her, and clothe her, and teach her, and he had to love her for her to thrive.

She made it very easy. It was only afterwards that he realized how much of an idiot he’d been to Jaskier, and the thought of how he’d treated the bard over the years had plagued him. It had been months before he could find him to apologize, but Jaskier forgave him almost immediately—which Geralt found both relieving and infuriating at the same time. This was the first winter they’d spent apart since. Geralt left the keep more rarely now, heading out on the Path only when the months grew truly warm and returning at the first hint of falling leaves. Ciri was safe on her own, he knew, but he missed her when he was away. And he could admit now that one of the forces driving him back into the world over the last few years had been the itching desire to find Jaskier again and settle the yearning in his chest for another year. He was less inclined to venture forth when his bard, his daughter, Yennefer and his brothers were all in one place.

This winter Jaskier had begged off, saying that he had “work in the south,” which could mean anything from spending a decadent winter in the court of some noble or sludging through the front lines as a Redanian spy. Geralt had learned not to pry too deeply into Jaskier’s business when he wasn’t around. It was often either too explicit for him to stomach or too confidential for Jaskier to share freely.

It worried him, being away from the bard for so long. He could get hurt, or captured by Nilfgaard, or worse. But what really terrified Geralt was the idea that he would find Jaskier in a tavern along the Path and realize that the bard had grown old, to find silver in his hair and wrinkles beside his eyes. “He’s getting too old,” Geralt said to Yennefer, who looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“You must have known when you started travelling with him that he would eventually leave you,” Yennefer said, not unkindly. “Humans are so short lived.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice about becoming his muse,” Geralt said with a huff. Despite his improved relationship with Jaskier over the past few years, he still found it difficult to admit that he had always been more than willing to let the bard tag along. If he’d wanted to travel alone, he would have. But he never had. “I just didn’t realize…”

“It always comes sooner than you think it will,” Yennefer sighed. She set her book aside and picked up her goblet of wine, turning to look out the large window their table sat in front of. It faced west out of the keep wall, towards the mountains and the forest beyond. The sun had set below the craggy peaks, throwing the snow covered valley below into darkness. Geralt could just make out the ruins of the old tower, its stones dark against the white landscape. “You can’t cure his mortality, Geralt.”

“We did.”

The look that Yennefer gave him was sharp, almost angry. The firelight in the room turned her violet eyes darker, like mulberry wine. “At great cost,” she snapped. “I can’t imagine you would put him through the Trials.”

A stab of panic shot through his gut at the thought. “No. Of course not. He wouldn’t survive it anyways. Only children stand a chance at all.”

Yennefer nodded, apparently satisfied that Geralt hadn’t completely lost his mind. “The boy hasn’t got an ounce of Chaos in him, in spite of his rather chaotic nature, so I highly doubt they’ll accept him as a late trainee at Ban Ard.”

“There must be other ways,” Geralt said, feeling petulant. “Less conventional.”

“I cannot believe we are actually discussing this,” Yennefer said, rising to her feet. She picked up her book from the table as well as her glass. “There is no way to achieve immortality, especially not without sacrifice. You know that, Geralt. Drop this foolish line of thought.”

Geralt rose after her, reaching out to catch her retreating wrist. A grasp loose enough that she could break it, if she wanted, but Yennefer paused. “Please, Yen. Just… look into it for me? I can’t—the thought of—” He cut himself off, dropping his hand away from her arm. The look she gave him was more pitying than he would have liked.

“I’ll do some research, but nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up, Geralt. There’s a reason there are so few of us,” she said. Her face softened slightly, as much as it ever did. Despite Ciri, Yennefer was still made of more glass and fire than anything else. “I know you love him, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. I promise, I will do my best.”

Geralt nodded wordlessly as she left and wondered if Jaskier's eyes would be as bright next time he saw him.

*

For weeks Yennefer said nothing about his request, and Geralt refocused on spending time with Ciri and preparing to depart for the spring. Lambert and Eskel had already left a month before, as soon as the road down the mountain began to thaw, but Geralt had hung back. The roof needed repairs, a difficult job to do in the midst of winter, and it was a hard task to leave for Vesemir alone. It was always like this, now—him looking for odd jobs to keep him at Kaer Morhen, with Ciri, making excuses until Jaskier’s jitteriness or Vesemir’s raised eyebrows forced them on the road again. Some of that was mitigated this season by the silence he heard when he found himself listening for the sounds of lute strings strumming gently in the background, and Geralt’s increasing anxiety about Jaskier’s wellbeing. Even so, it was hard to leave Ciri behind.

The girl was progressing rapidly as she entered her teen years, the chubbiness of her youth morphing into lean if awkward muscle as she continued to work on her swordsmanship. When Geralt and his brothers weren’t pushing her through drills, she was studying monsters and alchemy with Vesemir, or practicing her magic with Yen. She never seemed to tire, eagerly absorbing any lessons passed on to her and desperate to prove her worth. The only person she seemed to let her guard down around was Geralt, who found himself often goading her into mock wrestling matches (which he refused to throw on principle) and humoring her when she became restless and wanted to explore beyond the keep. Kaer Morhen was dangerous in the winter, but as spring approached and the deep snows on the surrounding mountains began to thaw, the duo spent more and more time trekking through old ruins and sleeping beneath the stars.

He could put off his journey south no longer.

“I’m going to be fine, Geralt,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. He wondered if he’d been this petulant as a teenager. Certainly Lambert had. “I can take care of myself, and Yen will be with me.”

Geralt tapped her wooden training sword with his own, indicating that she should prepare to go again. When he was a boy he’d trained against the other foundlings, stumbling around like pups through drills and sparring matches. Ciri trained against full witchers, and only Eskel ever faked a misstep here or there to allow her to get in a good hit. When she won a fight for the first time, it would be on her own merit.

The girl raised her sword into a decent fighting stance, and Geralt moved to correct her footwork. Her sword work was exceptional above the belt, but she consistently forgot her stances, throwing herself off balance. They’d begun putting her on the pendulums to force her to focus, dancing between posts to attack the dummies. Geralt had spent many a night rubbing salve into her bruised shoulders, gained from taking fall after fall from the low poles. No one forced her, but if there was one thing Ciri hated, it was admitting to weakness in herself. “Sword up,” Geralt said, and launched into his attack.

He stayed on the offense, forcing her to practice the defensive drills they’d started going over recently. “I know you’ll be fine,” he said, continuing their conversation. His breathing was relaxed, almost meditative through the slow exchange of blows. “Just seems cruel to leave you with only the old man and Yennefer for company.”

Ciri giggled despite herself, and Geralt found himself grinning back before he smacked her lightly in the ribs with the training sword. She swore—Lambert, Geralt thought with chagrin—and danced back a few paces. “Gotta focus,” he said, still smirking at her.

She poked her tongue out at him childishly and reposted off of one of his blocked attacks. He easily swayed out of the way, but the movement was fluid and smooth, which meant someday it would be fast, faster than he could dodge. He gave an encouraging nod.

They continued to spar for another half an hour or so before breaking, heading to the well to fill their water pouches. Geralt sat on the short ring of stones and Ciri slumped on the ground beside him, leaning against his leg. The simple trust and familiarity she exhibited around him still took him by surprise, sometimes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, rubbing a hand over the top of her head. Her hair was almost as white as his.

She sighed, wiping dripping water from her chin as she tossed her water pouch down. “I figured,” she said. “Say hello to Jaskier for me, when you find him? I missed his songs this time.”

Geralt’s caress turned into a playful ruffle. “I will. Any requests for books?”

“Ones about Elves,” she said immediately, “and Skelligan alchemy. It’s different from ours, did you know? The Druids—”

Geralt chuckled. “I know. You’ve said half a dozen times. No fairytales this time?”

The girl hummed, reminding him for a brief and touching moment of himself. “Just bring Jaskier back. He tells about your adventures so much better than you do.”

“He’s certainly made a career out of it,” Geralt grumbled, feigning annoyance. “I’ll do my best. You know how he is.”

“You missed him too,” she said, hitting his knee with one closed fist. “I know you did. You get all…Well, more grumbly and mopey than usual, when he’s not around.” She wrinkled her nose up at him in exaggerated disgust. “It’s gross. But I do want you to be happy.”

Geralt knocked back against her gently with his knee, swallowing around the feelings that rose in his throat. “You just think I’m a boring old man who won’t help you put toads in Eskel’s bed. But you never even ask. I’m the expert, not Jaskier.”

Ciri laughed, bright and crisp in the morning air, and Geralt felt warm despite the fading winter chill. Tomorrow he would leave, and he would find Jaskier, and next winter he would tell Jaskier that he had to stay at Kaer Morhen. For Ciri, if nothing else. And if it was more for Geralt’s sake than anything, well, no one had to know.

*

Yennefer found him before he left, saddling Roach in the stables.

“Go to Triss,” she said by way of a greeting. Geralt knew what she meant by the gravity in her tone and the tension sitting in the corners of her mouth. “Ask after Ida. I don’t know where she is or if she’ll speak with you, but a Sage is the only one that might be able to give you anything.”

Geralt reached out to grasp her hand firmly in his own. “Thank you, Yen,” he said honestly.

The sorceress sniffed. “Well, you owe me one, I suppose. I hope you find what you're looking for. But be careful.”

“I won’t do anything that might put him in harm’s way,” he promised. “I swear it.”

“Good.” She gave him a slight smile before leaning in to brush a kiss over his rough cheek. The simple touch warmed him from inside out. “Say hello to the bard for me. Tell him I heard about that disastrous competition in Vizima. Ought to have him stewing for a good long while.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him your love as always.”

“Goodbye, Geralt,” she said, patting his arm lightly. “Be safe. You know how to reach me, if you have need.”

“I do,” he said. “I will. Take care of Ciri.”

“It’s more the other way around, I’m afraid,” she said with a soft smile, and Geralt understood exactly what she meant. Ciri had saved them both, in more ways than one. Every time he left her was more painful than the last. Someday, he knew, they might travel the Path together, a witcher, a sorceress and their daughter. Maybe even a bard, if he was extremely lucky.

Geralt hoped he would be.

[mythicandco]

She isn’t sure why she says it.

Maybe out of pure curiosity - because it’s just the first name that pops into her head, for some reason.

But a name pierces the eerie quiet of the strange in-between dimension, a place that looks like a Demon Realm-style fun house on steroids. Dark liquid lapping against the wildly-twisting, greenish walls is the only sound here other than a human girl’s breathing.

“Philip Wittebane.”

The moment the name leaves her tongue Luz Noceda realizes she should probably check on her mother. Wasn’t that the whole point of this in the first place? But before she gets a chance to correct herself, a cube slowly floats out of the dark liquid around her, as though simply appearing for her is a difficult task. For a few moments it simply hovers there, it’s sides dripping black goo.

Then the side closest to her turns shiny and gold. Her heart rate increasing, the girl moves forward to take it - and then stops. What if it’s just his coffin, or something? Certainly Philip Wittebane would be long dead by now if he’d written his journal back in the 1600s.

But curiosity once again triumphs over doubt and Luz takes the cube in her hands. The worst that could happen is I see a skeleton, she thinks. Big deal. I’ve seen skeletons before.

Unlike the cube that showed her King, Eda, and Hooty, it takes a moment of her holding it for the thing to flash white and transfer her into a reflection. She finds herself holding her breath, and when the cube finally responds to her touch, the girl is caught off-guard and nearly drops it, severing the connection.

Luz is able to hold on, however, and she blinks as things come into focus around her. She is in the reflection of a glass picture frame. It’s holding up some painting of a black spider and a little red bird, she thinks, but her face is so close to the parchment she can’t tell for sure.

She turns her attention to the room around her, and chokes back a gasp at the most notable feature - a large, circular ring with white-and-gold wings splayed at its sides. It vaguely resembles Hunter’s staff, but that isn’t the most worrying part - it’s being constructed around the portal door, which was supposed to be destroyed. Worst of all, it looks nearly completed.

Luz covers her mouth and ducks to the bottom of the reflection as something moves in the dark - an old man with dirty blonde hair, dull blue eyes, and a dark green scar on his face. He’s wearing robes typical of the Emperor’s Coven, but she doesn’t recognize him-

Wait.

Is that Emperor Belos? Without his mask? Luz never thought she’d actually see him like this. He looks... like a sad old man. The girl frowns, but then the impact of what this means hits her full-force and her eyes widen in pure shock. She had said Philip’s name.

“NO,” she says aloud. “NO WAY.”

Belos stiffens and spins around, his eyes narrowing. They dart to his mask, which is laying next to a closed book a few feet away from him. “Who’s there?” he demands. “Spying on the emperor is an offense punishable by death.”

Luz drops the cube out of pure reflex, severing her connection to the castle. It begins to sink back into the goo, but she lets out a yelp and grabs it again.

“No, bad cube,” she scolds. “I still need your help.” Luz loosens her hold on it, but it doesn’t light up again. “Hey, come on, go back to the castle,” she says. “Please?”

The cube doesn’t respond. She shakes it. Still nothing. “Let me see Emperor Belos again! Come on, cube!” But the cube doesn’t listen. Luz grunts in frustration.

“You’re on a mission, Luz. Focus.” Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, the girl does just that.

“Show me Philip Wittebane.”

It still kind of shocks her that it works; but it does, and Luz finds herself in the reflection of the eye on the door. Staring straight at Emperor Belos.

Both sides let out identical exclamations of surprise, and for the fourth time in the past half an hour, Luz almost drops the godforsaken cube. She hisses “mierda” under her breath before she can stop herself, and is surprised to hear Belos use a profanity of his own that she easily recognizes as from the Human Realm.

The two stare at each other for a moment, and Luz takes another few moments to look at Belos’s face. He really does seem like a sad, old man, even more so up close. His blue eyes have no shine in them, and his hair is in desperate need of a good combing through. She can only see one of his ears, but it’s noticeably smaller than any other witches’ she’s seen so far and has a nick in it, and a disturbing thought occurs to her that she quickly pushes aside.

Heavy bags under his eyes - even more noticeable than the Golden Guard’s - are also present, but the most horrifying part of his face is the strange green scar. Luz doesn’t know what it’s from, but it doesn’t look like anything from the Human Realm.

“Surprised?” she asks, summoning up every ounce of strength that she can. Belos can’t hurt her where she is right now, she’s pretty sure. Even if he destroyed the reflection, it would be destroying the door, and she’s fairly certain that that would only sever the connection again, not actually kill her. He takes a step back with a grimace.

“The Owl Lady’s human pet,” the emperor practically snarls, and Luz flinches. “Guess it was only a matter of time before you tapped into this as well.”

Luz has no idea what he means, but she holds her ground. “Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier when your notes are helping me with it,” she replies. “You are Philip Wittebane, aren’t you?” Her voice trembles for some reason. Now is not the time to get excited about a potentially very dramatic backstory, she mentally tells herself.

Even if you really, really, really want to hear everything about it and take notes.

It’s Belos’ turn to wince, and he reaches for his mask. “You got ahold of my journal?” he asks in a voice that sounds more surprised than resentful.

“It was in the library for a reason,” Luz neglects to mention the paper dragon and the Forbidden Stacks and Amity-

No, Luz. Focus. “But, um, yes.”

A dry laugh escapes the emperor’s throat. “I assumed no one was going to let a human into the Forbidden Stacks.”

Luz blinks, the puzzle pieces in her mind still not quite fitting together. “But if you’re Philip Wittebane, then doesn’t that make you human, too?” She is pretty sure that was right, but with her brain still kind of frazzled by the fact that Philip and Belos were the same person, she might’ve forgotten how the laws of nature worked.

Belos chuckles again, this more sharp and harsh. Luz backs up, but with holding the cube in her hands she doesn’t get any further away from him. He puts the mask on and turns away. “I’m hardly human anymore.”

This is an interesting development. “Ooh, is this like from the Henry Pottery books? If you drink unicorn blood, you’re immortal, but also-”

“This is nothing like that.”

“Oh.” Luz frowns. “Could you tell me what it actually is, then?”

Belos whirls around, uncomfortably close to the door’s reflection. “No.”

Luz let’s out a yelp and the cube shatters in her hands. “Crap,” she says, trying to take the pieces and put them back together. Apparently he did get mad enough to break the door. With a deep inhale, the girl tries to steady herself.

Remember, Luz, she tells herself mentally. You’re on a mission to contact your mom. Worry about what just happened once you tell her what’s going on. She’s still freaking out a little, but the girl breathes a few times and promises herself she’ll look into the Philip-Belos mystery once this is over and taken care of. She opens her eyes again.

“Camila Noceda.”

[jaskierswolf]

Four Seasons

Summary: Jaskier is the god of winter and he gets invited to the four seasons ball. A formal celebration held by the the gods. This is finally the moment that Geralt realises just what Jaskier the bard really is.

Rated: T

Length 1.8k

CW: Jaskier wears a dress, brief mention of gods being genderfluid

Based of this art by @little-piece-of-tamlin. Another @thewitcherbog special!

________

As far as Geralt was aware, Jaskier was just a normal, very human bard. Jaskier had never said as such but people made assumptions, and he was happy to let people go about their day and think whatever made them most comfortable. Most people would be uncomfortable in the presence of a god, or they'd bow down, grovel at his feet, which whilst fun for a short period of time, got horrendously dull very quickly. He was a free spirit, especially during the summer months. Winter was a busier affair but Geralt was always tucked away in Kaer Morhen so never noticed Jaskier’s more immortal side during the coldest time of the year.

Geralt was about to get the shock of his lifetime.

It wasn’t as if Jaskier had planned it but the invitation had come in from Priscilla in the spring and he couldn’t just ignore it. The Four Seasons ball only happened once a century and it had completely slipped Jaskier’s mind, but he wouldn’t just abandon Geralt. The poor witcher might have thought he was dead if he hadn’t turned up at their unofficially agreed meeting place. So Geralt would just have to join Jaskier for the ball, and after that there would be no hiding. He was a guest of honour and gods and mortals alike would bask in the magic of the changing seasons. Most mortals wouldn’t remember the ball afterwards, the magic too powerful for their tiny little brains to comprehend, but those blessed by a god’s favour could remember.

And of course, Jaskier had blessed Geralt. One could not hold a god’s heart and not be blessed.

“You’re quiet,” Geralt grumbled as they made their way up to the rooms Jaskier had secured for them.

“I received an invitation to a party. I was hoping that you might come with me,” Jaskier stammered, feeling the frost creeping through his veins as it always did when his emotions started to get the better of him. He could melt snow and ice with a simple smile, but when he got anxious, things started to get a little frosty. The air temperature outside the tavern had dropped considerably since they’d arrived, but he doubted anyone had really noticed. It was late in the day and the change could be blamed on the setting of the sun.

“Already? Whose partner did you bed this time, bard?”

“Oh haha, very funny!” Jaskier scoffed, ignoring the frost glistening on the windows of their room when they stepped inside. Deep down he knew he needed to get a grip. Pris would be pissed off if he ruined her spring thaw with his own emotions, his poor sister would have to work even harder to counteract the effects of his magic, but it was always more difficult to rein in his magic in the spring. It was still strong from the winter months, and there was an adjustment period.

Even still, the snowfall last summer after the blasted dragon hunt had all three of his siblings up in arms against him. Valdo had to trigger autumn early and the whole harvest had been a mess.

He really should just tell Geralt he loved him and deal with the consequences, but… well… it had been a long time since he had loved like this and he still nursed the heartbreak.

“Jaskier?” Geralt said, snapping him from his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked, focussing back into the room. He meant to say “nothing” or something along those lines. Something harmless and easy.

What fell from his lips was another thing entirely.

“I love you, oh bollocks!” Jaskier blurted, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry!”

“No, I mean… Jaskier,” Geralt gestured to the room, there was a snow flurry above them and the windows were completely iced over. He desperately tried to think happy thoughts, the warm golden glow of Geralt’s eyes. The soft growl of his voice whenever Jaskier did something stupid that would get any mortal killed. Even if Geralt never loved him back, the thought of his witcher was enough to soothe his panic. With one last deep breath and a flick of his wrist, the snow was gone, “What the fuck?”

“Oh fuck, Pris is going to kill me,” Jaskier whined. “I- umm…”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, one hand was holding his medallion and he just looked… well, done? Shit. Fucking cock balls.

“Explain, bard.”

“I love you? Quite hopelessly, I’m afraid,” Jaskier smiled sheepishly, his tongue flicking out to flick his lips, a nervous habit that he’d never quite overcome. “But!” he announced with false bravado, “that’s neither here nor there, it’ll pass. No need to worry about me, witcher.”

“And the snow?”

“Oooh yeah that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, there’s a chance that I might be a god, hypothetically speaking of course. I’ve always favoured the winter months,” Jaskier admitted, flexing his fingers and pulling at his lute strap.

“You hate winter,” Geralt growled, still painfully ignoring Jaskier’s love confession but that was fine. “You always spend the winter in that cushy academy of yours.”

“Not strictly true,” Jaskier sighed, “but are you coming to my ball or not, witcher? My sister has invited us both, apparently I don’t shut up about you, probably part of the being in love thing.”

“No, you just don’t shut up.”

“Rude! Fine, be that way, Geralt. I’ll go alone,” Jaskier huffed, pouting with his whole body in a way that he knew Geralt always fell for. “It’s a shame, I had a perfect outfit planned. Gods don’t play by your rules of gender, and oh you should see me in a dress, I look absolutely divine, quite literally in fact.”

“If I come with you, will you be quiet?” Geralt sighed.

“Now, now, we both know I can’t promise that.”

Geralt groaned before slumping onto the bed, the only bed, and it took Jaskier another half an hour to get Geralt ready for the ball. It helped that he could use his magic now that Geralt knew, but the witcher still fought Jaskier on the pale blue doublet that would match Jaskier’s dress perfectly. No man, mortal or otherwise, could fight Jaskier’s eye for fashion and eventually Geralt gave in. It helped when Jaskier reminded the witcher there would be no need for armour in the presence of gods, there was no monster they couldn’t best, and so reluctantly Geralt left his worn out witcher armour on the bed, and let Jaskier dress him.

“Did you mean it?” Geralt muttered.

“Mean what?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head as his magic weaved through the fabric, subtly marking the witcher as his, no other god could claim Geralt if Jaskier already had, and he just didn’t trust his brother, not after the Countess de Stael.

“You love me?”

“With all my heart and soul, darling,” Jaskier admitted softly, his fingers freezing on the collar of Geralt’s doublet, now printed with buttercups. If one were to look closely they would see the tiny little snowflakes that made up the design, “but I- I understand if you don’t feel the same. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to tell you.”

“Hmm.”

“Is that alright, Geralt?”

“Yes. I- shit,” the witcher growled, “It’s not easy for me, witcher don’t-”

“Oh fuck off,” Jaskier snapped. “ Don’t you fucking dare, Geralt. Witchers don’t feel. Whatever whoreson told you that-”

“I know. I know, but you got hurt, because of me, and seeing you lying there in Yennefer’s bed. I thought I’d lost you,” Geralt snapped, his golden eyes burning with fire.

“And that was the day I lost you… to her,” Jaskier sighed, “I was never in real harm. The djinn magic just hurt this body, and I’m rather fond of this one, but I would have survived.”

“You didn’t lose me, Jaskier. Yennefer, she’s, she’s less fragile, and the wish, my wish,” Geralt shook his head.

“Ah yes, you bound yourself to her, my poor aunt, you call her Destiny, was not impressed with that one, but never mind, dear heart, your destiny is set now,” Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “Of course, I could undo it. Djinn’s magic has nothing on mine, but the bond between you and Yennefer means nothing. It is a tie, not a love potion. I know you love her, Geralt.”

“I love you, Jaskier,” Geralt said all too quickly, and Jaskier froze, his heart racing in his chest and the world spinning around him in a blur. “It was easier to pretend that I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier cried out, whisps of frost dancing through the air around them. “You- you love me?”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt repeated, rolling his eyes and shooting Jaskier a fond smile. “I love you.”

Jaskier beamed, and with a flick of his wrist his doublet and breeches melted away into a beautiful icy blue gown. The fabric was cold against his skin, a mesh of snowflakes so thin that the pale blue fabric was sheer. He left his arms free of sleeves, and winked as he saw Geralt’s eyes go wide as he took in the muscles that Jaskier usually hid under his clothes. He thought about taking on a more traditionally female form to fill out the cleavage in the dress, but he rather liked the way Geralt was looking at him with a dark hunger in his eyes. As he stepped forwards his boots shifted into elegant high heels, a dark navy blue with thin straps around his ankles.

“Jask,” Geralt breathed, “You look…”

Jaskier winked at his witcher, cupping his cheek with his hand. “There, now we match.”

“You’re taller than me.”

With a giggle, Jaskier nodded, looking down at Geralt for the first time in their acquaintance. They’d always been similar in height, but Jaskier’s shoes gave him the edge now. “Well, you are my guest for the evening, and no mortal should rise above their immortal, it goes against court etiquette.”

The witcher scoffed, “When have you ever given a shit about etiquette?”

“Human etiquette, witcher, not the gods’. This is different. This is my home, now come on, Pris will kill me if I’m late again.” Jaskier scooped up his lute, and took Geralt’s hand in his. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Hold on tight, darling,” Jaskier grinned.

“Wait, fuck, Jaskier! Not a portal!”

But the witcher’s protests were swallowed up in a flurry of snow as they were transported to the realm of the gods. An echo of Jaskier’s musical laugh hung in the air as the snow settled on the ground as the witcher and his bard set off on their latest adventure.

[imthepunchlord]

Do you have any thoughts on how the guardian role is handled lore wise? Would you change much about being the guardian?

Oh yes I do and there's so much that I would change up.

The more we see of the Guardians, the dumber they are and the more pointless they are. To a point it's a wonder if they were worth the inclusion as they don't amount to much and are just useless. I'm putting this undercut as I just go off.

- Lore wise, they set it up that adults are naturally more powerful, so why did Fu pick two kids to fight his battles for him? Why not adults? Why did he leave them on their own instead of offering them some means to have an edge over HM?

- Of the Ladybug and Cat, we have yet to see anything unique that the Cat brings to these fights that the other 15 miraculi that Fu has with him couldn't do. You need a distraction that's going to mess up the akuma? Monkey and Fox. You need a protector/aggressor? Bee, Turtle, or Dragon. Ladybug is a must as its the only cleanser so far and has ML to boot, but Cat doesn't need to be out there, and as soon as HM had quite publicly stated that he wants LB and Cat, Fu should've reclaimed the Cat immediately to secure its safety and that HM won't get both. Another or two could go out to replace it.

- Why was picking Adrien a good idea? If Fu had just arrived in Paris, ok, but Backwarder reveals he's been living in Paris for a while. And with that, he's seen Adrien's face everywhere.s Adrien is potentially the most well known kid in Pari. Technically, for Fu's want of secrecy, why pick the most iconic face in Paris to get a miraculous? That sets up one of your heroes to always have attention on him. Fu picking Adrien doesn't make any logical sense.

- Why is Fu ok with endangering one kid but not the other? Why does Marinette get a test set up that risks her life and Fu's if it hadn't gone well and Adrien just helps an old man up, a common decency that most would do. It's like two extreme differences that don't work well in comparison as Marinette gets the risky test and Adrien it looks like he got his miraculous on a silver platter as he got the far easier one that takes the least effort to be a decent human being.

- Fu being a terrible mentor and hero picker in general and the whole shebang with Syren. If Adrien is not meeting his standards or if he doesn't trust Adrien at all, why is Adrien being allowed to continue as a hero? Or if he really wants Adrien to stay, why isn't he doing anything about Adrien? Why isn't he telling Plagg to encourage Adrien to step up and get serious? If he can take on the role of being Adrien's Chinese teacher, why not do that to try and guide Adrien to improvement so he can also be trusted with Guardian secrets too and truly help Marinette out. He's got two options when he doesn't trust Adrien or finds that he's meeting his standards: he takes the miraculous back or he addresses this issue himself.

- I also call big BS about him not doing anything at all when he comes upon Adrien detransformed on the roof with Plagg. Cause he's risking himself going out to find Chat Noir only to find him detransformed. That realistically should raise some brows and concern him. Adrien at least should've gotten a lecture or warning.

- Also the reveal that kwamis aren't allowed to know about their own power. that to me is off putting. It really stresses that kwamis are beneath them, these very ancient and powerful beings that have probably seen a lot. And canon validates it by making them children (which to me is the writers being lazy so they don't have to do complex characters).

- The whole thing with Fu's backstory. Dumbest backstory I've ever heard and it just paints Guardians in a really bad light, and by extension, real life monks. Monks didn't go to people's homes to take children. If they did take kids with them, those kids had nowhere else to go and offered them a place to stay until old enough to be on their own. And that test, omg, wtf. Ok, I can get the idea of a test of temptation, but there are other ways to perform it without starving a kid. Especially leaving said kid alone unsupervised with 19 powerful miraculi two of which have wish granting abilities. How would the Guardians even know if Fu used a miraculous as they left him alone with mriaculi. If Fu wanted to, he could've made a wish to never be picked.

- Fu didn't even do shit when he finally had a chance to face off against HM. He just sat in his damb ball and allowed himself to get knocked around. At least try and roll over him! Be a ping-pong ball! DO SOMETHING. Like, why did you even pick Turtle??? Turtle wasn't able to do anything against Butterfly! I thought it could as Fu had been ready to go in Origins, plus the 5 are based off Wu Xing, by set up, Fox and Turtle should have some sort of an edge over the Butterfly. But I guess that means there could be other options aside form LB and we can't have that, Marinette's miraculous needs to be the only thing to take on the Butterfly to really stress on the fact that it comes down to only her.

- The memory wipe thing that's an apparently must when you retire from being the Guardian. Honestly I think that should've been saved as a last resort if you're ever captured and could be forced to leak info, not when you retire. Doing so removes a valid source of advisement that a new Guardian can rely on. History is there to learn from it and this tradition removes a source of history to learn from, either from having guidance or seeing what the old did and how you want to change things. This also makes me concerned as I see Adrien taking advantage of an amnesiac Marinette.

- I went off about the NY Special revealing there's more Orders here.

- And lastly, Su-Han, the other Guardian to see aside from Fu. And with him, it solidifies how stupid they all are. When the Butterfly is being misused in Paris, why is someone aggressive and judgmental coming to Paris? Why is this guy even working with kids when he doesn't like kids? And the reveal that Guardians don't use miraculi at all. That just makes that test all the dumber with testers being unsupervised. And for Guardians not meant to use miraculi, how come Marinette gets a nice perk as LB that she can pull a miraculous out of her yo-yo? They're probably playing that she's "the first" to do so but realistically, I'm pressing x to doubt. In the long history of miraculi and when Guardians were around, you expect me to believe that Guardians never used miraculi themselves? What if there was no one to turn to, do they just the disaster happen? ...Well, based on how terrible canon is setting them up, I wouldn't be surprised.

SO.

There is a lot I would change up about the Guardians and for this, I'll adjust canon.

- Adrien gets the ring another way, maybe a gift from his mom or aunt or grandparents. Realistically, there's no logical reason for Fu to pick Adrien. He just has too much attention on him and Chat being an unexpected miraculous user can make him wary, adding to him only trusting Marinette.

- I'd have Fu be more present in Marinette's life, a customer who comes in a lot. This way he can offer advise when needed but not take away from Tikki. And this has him more closely keeping an eye on things.

- I'd change up Fu's backstory. He got separated from his family in a flood, the previous Turtle saved him, tried to help him find his family and with no luck, took him to the Temple, but only the section where other orphans are where they work to help take care of it, oblivious to the miraculous near them. After a year, Fu is one of the few selected to be entrusted with miraculous knowledge. He's surprised but not all that for it as he'd rather go find his family still. Idk how Temple falls but its not that. That was just dumb and avoidable.

- I wouldn't have Adrien meet Fu at all. In truth, it actually could've been cut out entirely as Adrien meeting Fu didn't amount to anything. He doesn't help with Guardian duties, doesn't help pick heroes, hasn't stepped up at all in his role as a partner. And he's not as torn up about Fu's loss as Marinette is. Adrien meeting Fu was pointless in the grand scheme of things. Nothing was progressed or changed from Adrien meeting Fu.

- I'd have HM ONLY getting an edge on Fu because Mayura was there to help him, catching Fu off guard. I want to see the Turtle truly in action, to see what else it can do cause sitting there to be smacked around was just unimpressive. And if Asstruck even did as much research as he could, he'd know that in Chinese mythology, the Turtle is a boss. It's the keeper of history and symbol of immortality, and it's up there with Tiger as an animal that can go toe to toe with the Dragon. And of the Four Symbols (associated with 4 seasons), the Black Turtle is also known as the Black Warrior. There should've been a lot more to Turtle than just sitting in your shell and allowing yourself to be knocked around.

- Su-Han I'd drastically change up. I'd keep in him being critical and stern, but he approaches things smartly and patiently. Before he dives into aggression and accusations, he wants to know what's going on. Why does this 14 yo have the Miracle Box? How was the Butterfly obtained and misused? And what the hell is going on??? How are these people so small and how did they get into this thin glass box?? Computer? What's a computer??? Essentially, have fun with the fact that Su-Han is essentially a time traveler and one great bonding experience to have with Marinette while also offering some good comedy is him learning about the modern time and her acting as his guide. Su-Han can give her guidance that Fu hadn't been able to give, and Marinette can offer her own in a way that Su-Han will need. Which by extension could remove Marinette having a near mental breaking point and revealing herself to Alya, and could avoid some of that drama of what's coming.

- Speaking of which, Adrien. I'd use Su-Han to finally address the issues with Adrien as a hero and partner. Su-Han prioritized Marinette as she has the Miracle Box, but Adrien is someone he'd take the miraculous away from. Adrien would get a very clear warning and call out for his actions and role.

[otterskin]

Dumb Details From the Loki Trailer I noticed but then got too serious about

First - apparently it’s not a trailer, so I guess we’ll get ‘Trailer 1′ later? ‘Exclusive Clip’ hardly seems accurate, but hey, I’m not Disney’s marketing division. I wouldn’t live in a shoebox if I was.

Dumb detail no. 1:

Owen Wilson’s jacket is...weird. Look closely.

And another shot:

Yeah...his jacket has a ‘reversed collar’. It’s a cut-out rather than cloth folding on top. Huh. What a strange design choice. What could it mean?

I’ve no idea, but that I watched the trailer enough times to notice this should concern you.

Detail No. 2

In this scene, we see what we can presume to be President Loki’s ‘Throne’. Notice the candy-canes. This is a Santa Claus throne, presumably from some mall Santa. This whole place might be in a mall, judging by the stuff in it.

But the Loki in this shot is not President Loki. Notice that he’s wearing brown pants, a thin brown tie, and the beige shirt he’s seen wearing in other parts of the trailer after he's apparently joined the TVA. President Loki wears black pants, a green vest and a wide green tie with a golden clip that resembles Loki’s little chevron he always has (more on that later).

So it would seem that Loki might meet President Loki here. President Loki might even be addressing him at the end of the trailer. It’s possible that his minions turn on him because there’s two Lokis and they don’t know which is the ‘imposter’. 

Speaking of, there’s a minion with bicycle handlebars grafted to a football helmet here, likely meant to resemble Loki. I dig it. There’s also cans of food scattered among the rubbish here. Makes sense that food production is non-existent since everyone has resorted to wearing license plates and spoons. Love how tattered the whole aesthetic is.

This reminds me of the opening Michael Waldron’s script ‘Worst Guy of All Time’, which featured a similar post-apocalyptic setting after the ‘worst guy’ ruins everything and makes himself king of the ashes. That’s likely what’s happened here, but I hope that Loki isn’t anything like Logan Paul, who was the inspiration for that title character.

Ah, the mysterious female character watching a meteor shower WAY TOO CLOSE UP. But my eyes are drawn to one thing...

What is that oblong object with a shiny handle? Could it be...

A sword? I do love swords. Did you know there’s a bunch of pictures of me in the stock photos for ‘Fencing?’ That’s my cred for loving swords.

I suspect that this female character will be an amalgamation of Amora (shudder) and Sylvie and an alternate Loki of some kind. This sword is currently in her possession, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it or another timeline version of it becomes the Loki Show’s Loki′s weapon. 

Loki has lacked a ‘weapon of his own’ in the MCU for quite some time. I mean, yes, he has his little knives, but they are many and disposable and something he chose for himself, rather than the two legendary weapons wielded by Odin and Thor, Gungnir and Mjolnir. In fact, throughout his appearances, Loki has seemed to want such a thing of his own - he briefly had Gungnir, and then the Gungnir-like scepter, and even tried to lift Mjolnir.

One might ask why Odin would’ve overlooked such an obvious show of favouritism. Why give Thor a storied weapon and leave Loki empty-handed? Heck, even Hela had the Necroblade.

In Thor 1, we might’ve assumed that the Casket of Ancient Winters was perhaps intended one day to be given to Loki, as it is shown with Mjolnir in the Vault and thus connected to it and the children who would inherit it.  But in the comics, Odin did have another weapon of storied history put away for his second son: Gram the Sword.

It was locked for eons by Odin in a special vault which required five keys to be opened, and it was meant to be for Loki if he be worthy.[2] The five keys were infused by Odin with the powers of "journeys", "endurance", "secrets", "new beginnings", and "brotherhood", respectively.[3]

The sword, like everything else in comics, has a complicated history full of take-backs and twists, but let’s just leave it at ‘it’s a representation of Loki’s worthiness and belonging in the trifecta with Odin and Thor as a King of Asgard’. It gives him ‘equality’.

In the original mythology, it’s wielded by Sigurd to kill the dragon Fafnir, and the only relation it has to Loki is that Loki is partially responsible for Fafnir existing in the first place (my username is nod to this myth by the by. Sorry Ottär.) But hey, maybe that means we’re getting a dragon? The Fafnir would be very cool.

Or it could just be a bit of rebar in this mining quarry.

Then again...it appears somewhere else...

It’s easier to see in motion, but that’s a sword swinging on this person’s back.

So the hooded figure is this lady...shall we call her Amylkie? Does that mean she’s the antagonist of this show? Well...maybe, but I suspect the true antagonist is foreshadowed here  -

So, what’s going on here? A young girl (Young Amylkie? Some other TVA prisoner that the guard is watching over? An oracle, A Norn, or a kid who wandered off from the tour group in a basilica somewhere?) She’s giving Mobius M. Mobius a...piece of chocolate. Maybe he saw a Dementor, I dunno. I suspect it’ll be a MacGuffin of some kind later. He looks pretty concerned here, which contrasts with his ‘another day at the office’ blaséness when dealing with Loki. But of course this is the eye-catcher:

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and black.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there. 

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see Amylkie literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and she’s setting them!

It’s possible Amylkie’s our big bad, but I think there’s a chance she’s either a red herring, or, much like how Loki ‘worked’ with Thanos in The Avengers, she is the pawn of a greater foe -

  - a Loki bent on destruction, for some reason or other. The TVA is obviously aware that this is the case, and it seems like they might be trying to ‘fight fire with fire’ by enlisting one Loki to combat another. The villain could be President Loki, since there's evidence of 2 Lokis in that scene - or maybe that's one of many Lokis, and the Big Bad Loki is being played by Hugh Grant as Old Loki. In any case, it would appear that Loki will be coming face-to-face with the worst versions of himself, and many of them. And, if I’m right about this scene:

...Loki will likely eventually discover that even his ‘good’ timeline ended in the destruction of his people and home, plus his own gruesome and torturous death. Although I think the TVA will keep that from him, and just show him the happy parts in an effort to inspire ‘good behaviour’. Until Loki inevitably discovers the rest of how that timeline played out and realize he’s been lied to. I don’t imagine he’ll take that very well...

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass.

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too...

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ -

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

[startanewdream]

Come fly with me

Summary:  In which Ginny can't help but follow her stupidest ideas and Harry is just happy to spend some time with her. Fluffy moment, set during Half-Blood Prince.

Read on AO3 if you prefer or below the cut:

________________

That's one of the stupidest ideas Ginny has ever had, but like all of her stupid ideas, she is too stubborn to withdraw.

Harry is walking at her side, throwing glances at her that mix challenge and exasperation with just a touch of concern. For someone that she knows has a bit of a saving-people thing, he seems to be enjoying this situation too much.

Of course he does. He has already done it - twice - and survived.

Sometimes it's not easy when your boyfriend has a hero-complex that got him into too many adventures. Especially if you are someone who also loves taking risks.

'Do you know how to do this?', Harry asks, and she loves that the worry in his voice is directed at helping her, not stopping her.

'I've done it before', she says nonchalantly, hoping her voice doesn't betray any fear. 'Part of it at least'.

Well, she is telling the truth. She had already met Buckbeak - or Witherwings, if she must -, but then it had been on a room with the door opened behind her and with Sirius holding the hippogriff, so she never felt in danger then.

Of course, now the situation is completely different.

They reach Hagrid's hut and the hippogriff is there, quietly patting the grass, looking even a little bit bored. He looks like he will enjoy some flying, but still, looking at his sharp talons, she thinks of how Fred and George will laugh themselves to death when they hear she died trying to tame a hippogriff.

No, they will laugh when they hear she died because she couldn't resist proving herself to Romilda Vane, of all people.

'Just be respectful', Harry is reminding her, and she nods in concentration. She remembers Sirius telling her to bow down politely and wait for the hippogriff to do the next move. She takes a deep breath and starts walking forward; but then a thought comes to her mind and she turns back sharply.

Without hesitation, she takes the three steps that separate her from Harry and kisses him fully in the mouth.

If he is surprised, Harry doesn't show - he seems always available for a good snog, more at ease with public displays of affection than she ever thought he could, as if all he thinks all the time is of kissing her too.

It was supposed to be her kissing him, but Harry easily gets the upper hand; his hands hold her face gently, his fingers caressing her cheek as his lips move over hers softly and demandingly and Ginny is out of breath when she breaks apart.

Nothing unusual. Kissing Harry always draws away all breath and worries from her body.

'Wow', she sighs, smiling happily, for the first time that afternoon less worried about facing a hippogriff.

'Wow', he repeats dazedly, as if he wasn't the one to kiss spectacularly his girlfriend. 'What was that for?'

For a moment she thinks of saying it was like a last kiss - one for if things went wrong - but then Harry might take that too serious.

'Good luck', she says instead, winking at him, and then marching resolutely to the hippogriff.

Buckbeak still looks menacing, but kissing Harry always brings light and an added touch of his bravery to her, so Ginny breathes slowly and bows to the hippogriff, keeping eye contact with the beast's yellow eyes. Looking at him causes a sudden wave of longing for Sirius, who had been so nice to her - he too understood having some darkness stuck on your head sometimes.

Perhaps Buckbeak remembers meeting her before or perhaps she is able to pass on her respect because after a few seconds he bows down to her and she advances with a smile to caress his feathery head, until she touches his back.

Her heart beats faster, but it's adrenaline, more than fear, and she thinks of the first time she ever flew when she was seven. She could do it then, she can do it now.

'We could ask a saddle for Hagrid', Harry says coming at her side, after just bowing to Buckbeak.

'Did you need one?'

'No, but I was smaller'.

Ginny scoffs.

'I am not that bigger than you were at thirteen, Harry. If you did it I can do too'.

Harry throws her an amused look, but he just nods. He is probably thinking that in the list of every crazy thing he ever did, at least she is asking to repeat one of the less dangerous.

It's not because he has already done it that she wants to do too. Well, it kind of is, but not really. It's all Romilda Bloody Vane's fault.

Ever since Romilda asked her about the tattoo on Harry's chest and Ginny told her it was a dragon, Romilda had been annoying her, insisting she was wrong. Apparently Witch Weekly has an article describing a hippogriff, and despite the fact that Ginny already saw Harry's chest - and is very much in a position to deny any tattoo -, Romilda didn't believe her.

'I bet you never even saw a hippogriff before. You could never fly one into sunset like Harry did, so dreamy -'

McGonagall had appeared then, stopping Ginny from hexing Romilda - she couldn't afford detention, not when it would lessen the time she had with Harry - and Ginny was left fuming for the rest of her classes, unable to even say Harry had flown during morning daylight.

And that was why she had dragged her boyfriend to Hagrid's hut right before dinner, explaining quickly what she intended to do. Harry had agreed quite easily with her - he always enjoyed good mischief and even more if it involved some time alone with her.

'Hey, Buckbeak', she says reassuringly to the hippogriff. 'We will just go for a flight, ok? No biting or making me fall, what kind of a Quidditch player I would look like then?'

She is not sure if he understood her, but the hippogriff nods slightly, his head inclined to her. She touches his head again, with fondness, before sitting on his back. It's not very comfortable and she looks helpless at the feathery head, wondering where is supposed to hold; before she can decide it, however, Buckbeak takes flight and she grabs his neck hurriedly.

After the first three seconds of panic, she lets out an exhilarating cry. Buckbeak has gone up faster than she could on her broom, and there is something beautiful in the way his wings are spread, in the balance of the flight. It's not like how she feels on a broom - she likes to be in control - but it has some freedom too. She had never flown outside the Quidditch field on Hogwarts before and now they are gliding over the Forbidden Forest.

She looks down and she thinks she sees the small dot that is Harry looking in her direction. A sudden thought comes to her and she smirks.

'Hey, Buckbeak', she says, bending down to talk to him. 'What do you say we take Harry on this flight with us?'

Buckbeak makes a sound that looks like agreement before he slides toward the ground, with Ginny trying to hold on to his neck and not fall over his head. It's exciting, though, so she is laughing uncontrollably when they land softly.

'Ginny! That was -'

'Come on!', she says grinning, offering him her hand. 'Come fly with me'.

'You know we could do it on a broomstick, right?'

Buckbeak makes an indignant sound.

'Look, you are offending him', she says playfully, stroking Buckbeak's neck. 'He is just playing, Buckbeak, you are much more friendly than any broom'.

The hippogriff makes a happy sound now.

Harry raises his brows at her.

'Making friends?'

'We and Buckbeak get along very well. Now come on, it's a beautiful sunset out there'.

There is the slightest hesitation in Harry, that seems to disappear the minute he sits behind her, and his hands close over her waist instead of holding on to the hippogriff. Ginny lays her back against his chest and Harry breathes in slowly - she knows he is feeling her perfume, as he likes to do. She can hear his heart beating faster even before the hippogriff takes flight with them.

It's different being well above ground with Harry, feeling his body close to her, his lips occasionally pressing a soft kiss on her neck that cause goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold air. Even Buckbeak seems to know this flight is supposed to be softer. He soars slowly, taking them towards the lake, where they have a gorgeous vision of the sun setting behind the mountains, bathing the sky in pink and orange and red, while the lake reflects the Hogwarts castle.

'How did you know about hippogriffs?', he asks her in a low voice. She bits her lips before answering.

'Sirius taught me', says Ginny, glancing at him for his reaction. Harry smiles with just a little touch of sadness.

'Of course'.

She hesitates, wondering if she should say more, but she thinks Harry would like to hear.

'Sirius always told me that he wished Buckbeak could be out there flying again'.

'He would be glad then… he escaped Hogwarts once on Buckbeak's back, did you know?' She nods and Harry chuckles easily. 'I think it's the kind of adventure he and my dad would have approved'.

She takes his hand, entwining their fingers, and Harry raises their hands to press a soft kiss on hers.

'At least Buckbeak is free now'. There is a short pause. 'Luna once told me that people we love are just waiting for us - like behind a veil, and we will see them again. Do you think it's true?'

She never thought about it, but then again death isn't always threatening her as it seems to happen with Harry. Still, when she thinks of Harry, she is always amazed at the way his eyes are flashing and shining and so obviously impressed by the fact he is alive. She cannot picture a world in which his heart isn't beating, in which his eyes aren't sparkling with the possibilities.

But since none of them is immortal, one day - in the distant future, she hopes - they will all be gone. And then… it cannot be just this. There's got to be more.

'Luna is usually right. She is of the smartest people I've known'.

He nods solemnly, and she feels another wave of affection for him, for the way Harry obviously cares for Luna too.

'I hope wherever he is, Sirius is seeing this too', Harry whispers. 'It's amazing'

Harry sighs, and Ginny wonders when was the last time he stopped to see the sunset - if he ever did it at all.

She glances back at him. There is a wondrous expression on his face as he takes the view, as if he is surprised he gets to see such a spectacle of nature; he looks so pure and endearing.

And then Harry looks at her, their eyes meeting, and the wonder in his face doesn't change. He looks at her softly and - if she dares to think of it - in love.

He opens his mouth, his eyes not leaving her, but no sound comes out. His hand raises to touch her face, putting behind her ear all the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail, with such tenderness that she thinks she doesn't really need him to say what he is feeling.

It's written on his eyes and it's a reflection of what she feels.

She doesn't know who moves first - at this point, after weeks of dating, she and Harry's thoughts are usually in synchrony - but then they are kissing, fifty feet above the ground, the cool wind blowing around them, soaring in the air on the wings of a hippogriff.

Her hands cup his face and Harry's hands are buried in her hair, holding her neck to keep her close to him and a part of Ginny thinks it's risky what they are doing, none of them holding on to the hippogriff. Any change in the wind, any movement, and they might fall.

But Ginny thinks she has already fallen.

The sky is already purple and greyish blue when they return to the ground. She strokes Buckbeak's head once more, thanking him for the ride, and she turns to Harry with a grin that he matches without even thinking about it as if he cannot resist her joyfulness.

'So', she begins, taking his hand and looking mischievously at him. 'How do you feel about flying on a Hungarian Horntail now?'

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Only Vampires

(Story Post)

Nari wasn't sure why he trusted these two vampires, but he wanted to know what they knew and so he followed them to their home. They didn't live more than a block north of where the library stood. They must've lived there a long time to afford such a big house, but then again, he had no idea what the housing market was like here. Either way, any active and diligent vamp over 100 years old could secure themself considerable wealth if they tried. Nari himself hadn't focused on capital during the majority of his life though, but he still did well for himself. The front doors of the house were very big, with stained glass windows, but Wesley and Everett took him around to the back door which was average sized and let no light in. This wasn't an issue right now as it was an hour to midnight, but he guessed that any daytime travel came through here, so they'd grown accustomed to it.

Inside was a small mudroom with another door at the other end. Nari waited for Everett to take off his shoes before he removed his own because wasn't sure what the traditions were in this country, but he was only further confused when Wesley took his shoes off but Everett kept them on. “Um, shoes on or off?” Nari had to ask. Wesley wacked Everett's leg with his loafer. “Shoes off, please.” Nari was relieved and did as told. “Alright.” “I'm not sure why we adopted that,” Everett said, reluctantly removing his footwear and then promptly putting on a pair of slippers. “My family always wore their shoes inside, his family wore shoes inside… Not to mention, it doesn't matter at all what Wesley wears.” “It's for our housemates,” Wesley said. “We have several housemates from across the world, you'll find Nari. The general consensus has been shoes off. We do our best to be accommodating.” He then proceeded to pull out a set of wheel slippers and socks and maneuvered them onto his chair. Nari thought for a second and then raised a hand. “I hope you don't think I need somewhere to stay. I'm well established.” “No, no,” Wesley said. “We just like to help anyone when it comes to library matters. As you may have noticed, it is not very accessible to all vamps of all shapes, abilities, and colours. We like to help anyone find the knowledge they need.” Nari nodded. “I see. So you steal the books for them.” “I told you, we borrow them,” Everett said as he led them through to the main hall. “Evie does think of himself as a modern-day Robin Hood of Knowledge, though,” Wesley said. The main hall was a lot more modern than Nari expected for a house apparently full of vampires. It was open concept with a lovely kitchen with granite counter tops. Further on was the living room and stairs, both up to the next floor and down to the basement. An elevator had also been installed beside the stairs for easier access to all floors. Nari’s hosts took him down to the basement, which was set up as a games room and study. There was pool, and darts, and even a pinball machine on one side. Some lounge chairs, a sofa, and a set of bookshelves on the other. There, they found another pair of vampires, one with her nose in a book, the other passed out on the couch, an open book on his chest. “Ah, glad some of you are here,” Wesley said going over to the reading nook. “Inaya, please meet Nari. We met him at the library.” The conscious vampire got up and smiled. She wore a hijab and had big round eyes framed with detailed eyeliner. She offered a hand to Nari. “Nice to meet you. Are you looking at a room?” “No, no, I’m just getting a little extra help with my research,” Nari said shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve never met, well, a vampire like you.” “A hijabi vampire?” Inaya chuckled. “Me neither. That’s why I’m here.” “To find more?” Nari asked. “No, to learn about being a vampire,” Inaya said. “I didn’t know anything about them really until I was turned, and I didn’t have any other vampires around to teach me. Figuring out how to be a vampire and muslim at the same time is difficult. Blood is haram, you see.” “Ah.” Nari nodded. “Have the books been helpful?” “Some, yes. Wesley seems to know how to find me good reads,” Inaya said. “I’ve tried entering the library on my own, but it’s always been a hassle. They always find some excuse not to let us in.” “I understand,” Nari said rollimg his eyes. “It's a different excuse each time.” Everett went over and kicked the end of the couch to wake its occupant. “Rise, Jeremiah! Meet our guest!” Wesley frowned. “Evie, let the boy sleep. He's probably been studying tirelessly, the poor kid.” It was too later however and the sleepy vampire stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The book he had been reading fell off his chest and onto the floor. The bang made him curse and scramble to pick it up. “Shit, it better not be busted… These old ass books…” “Language, Jeremiah. You know the rules,” Everett scolded. “Shit, sorry, Ev,” the vampire huffed. “Not my fault you woke me up.” “I have half the mind to discipline you,” Everett said, crossing his arms. “Yeah, that’ll look good, you pasty old Brit beating my black ass…” the young vampire mocked. He noticed Nari. “Who’s this little mosquito?” Wesley put a hand on Nari's shoulder. “This is Nari. We're helping him in his research.” The other got up and offered a hand to the newcomer. “It's Jez, but these old farts insist on calling me by my whole name like they're my damn mother or something.” Everett huffed. “Seriously, if you don't straighten out your language, I'll—” “The entire concept of vulgar language is inherently racist,” Jez interrupted, his entire diction changing just to prove a point to old Everett. “My use of swearing is not abusive, but instead cathartic, emphatic and idiomatic, forms of swearing that are not meant to offend anyone. For you to tell me what words I can and cannot say is a blatant form of oppression and reduces my abilities to cope with pain or misfortune.” Everett frowned, his lips pursed. “Fine. But could you tone it down just a bit?” “No.” Wesley came up behind Everett and patted his back. “Relax. We're all adults. Anyway, where's Paolo?” “He's in his room,” Inaya said. “Probably working.” “Ah, okay. Nari can meet him later,” Wesley said approaching the coffee table. From out of nowhere, he pulled out a book and offered it to Inaya. “I found an Arabic tome with stories from Turkey in it. I’m hoping it might help you.” “Oh! Maybe!” Inaya took the book gratefully. “I appreciate it, Wes!” “Where did you pull that book from?” Nari asked, a bit dumbfounded. “The library?” Wesley said, a little confused by the question. “No, I mean… I didn't notice it on your person before,” Nari said. “Oh! It's pocket magic,” Wesley said. “Easier than carrying them around.” “Pocket magic is some real basic level shit,” Jez said, eyeing Nari. “If you don't know that, what abilities do you have?” Nari shook his head. “…I never learned vampire magic. Well, except a blood purifying spell I found the other day.” Everett placed his hands on Nari's shoulders. “Oh dear, so you've just been going about your life with all the cons and none of the pros to the whole vampire thing? Sounds miserable!” Nari frowned. “I didn't know I could learn any of it…” “You absolutely can!” Everett said. “We will show you the basics.” “Honestly, it's fine…” Nari said. “I don't plan on sticking around long, and my partner has enough magic for the both of us…” “Your partner knows magic but you didn't know you could learn it?” Inaya asked. “They didn't try to teach you?” “He’s not a vampire,” Nari said. “He doesn't know what I'm capable of doing as one.” “What is he, then?” Jez asked. “A dragon?” “No, he's a wizard,” Nari said. “A wizard?” Wesley inquired, his voice a little concerned. “Like, a human wizard?” “Uh, yes,” Nari said. “The magic isn't the same, though he's convinced he can learn vampire stuff…” Everett started shaking his head. “Do you always engage in romantic relationships with humans?” “Yes.” Nari frowned, reading the negative energy coming from his acquaintances. “You say that like it's bad. Are you going to tell me we're not supposed to do that? It's taboo or something?” “No, it's fine! I mean…” Everett put his hands on Wesley's shoulders. “He was unturned when I fell for him…” “But we weren't trying to reproduce, that’s for sure,” Wesley said. He placed a hand on Nari’s arm. “It’s no wonder you’ve been having trouble… You can't have children with humans. It never works.” Nari clenched his jaw. “That's not…My information came to a 1-in-8 chance that a vampire can complete live birth.” “It's more complicated than that,” Everett said, pulling out one of the books be grabbed. “It's likely the one successful time out of eight, their partner was another vampire. The odds are much better with two vampires. Like, 1-in-3.” He opened to a page that displayed a large family tree on it. “Any time in history that a vampire successfully completed a pregnancy, both parents were vampires. Any pairings with children from one unturned and a vampire were from before the vampiric parent had turned. Or, there has also been the occasional time a vampire sired a child with an unturned person, but it is rarer.” Nari frowned and sat down on the couch. “But…I… Isn’t there any magic that can help?” Wesley shook his head. “Not that we've found. Your best bet is to try with a vampire.” “But I don't want a child from someone else…” Nari said. “I want one with Diederich.” “I'm surprised you even date unturned,” Jez commented. “It's sad stuff watching humans grow old and die all the time…” “Diederich isn't just any human, he's immortal too,” Nari said. “He knows really powerful skills and spells.” Jez rolled his eyes. “So, easy fix. Just turn him.” Nari shook his head. “No, I can't do that.” “I could teach you,” Everett said. “Or I could do it.” Nari glared. “No, I don't want to turn him. I wouldn't do that to someone.” Everett sighed. “Nari, I don't know what to tell you. Your goal is to have a baby with your partner. Both of you need to be vampires for that to happen. That's all there is. We don't have any other advice.” Nari looked down at his hands, his eyes brimming with tears. “So, all those times I tried… Complete waste of time...” Wesley rubbed Nari’s shoulder. “You didn't know…” He looked to Everett. “Would you give us a moment? All of you.” “Of course, love,” Everett said, kissing Wesley on the forehead. “Come along now, children.” “We are not your kids,” Jez groaned as he got up reluctantly and followed Inaya and Everett upstairs. Once they were alone, Wesley sighed and rubbed Nari's arm. “Before you turned, did you have any children?” Nari slowly and sniffled. “Yes… My son, Tae-seok. He was just a baby when I turned…” “Is he alive?” Wesley asked. “No… He passed away around the turn of the millennia…” Wesley sighed. “When did you start trying for another baby?” “We tried for several years when Tae-seok was young… But his father, Eun-young, died in a factory accident when Tae-seok was still a child. I didn't try again until well after my son passed away too.” “With your current partner?” Wesley asked. Nari shook his head. “No, my previous relationship. It was an accident… But I wanted it to work out. I had a little hope.” “I'm really sorry, Nari,” Wesley said. “It must be difficult to hear about the circumstances of your pursuit… And I'm sorry about Evie. He thinks turning people will always fix everything. It doesn't.” “But he's right though… If Diederich were a vampire, we'd have a much better chance,” Nari said spreading his hands. “If he were turned, we could try…” Wesley shook his head. “I can tell, you don't want to do that. It sounds like your experience with being a vampire has been more negative than positive and you don't want to subject someone else to that.” “I don't. Diederich is… He’s so lovely, and he's happy…” Nari said. “I don't want to take that from him.” “I understand. It isn’t easy. I don't always love being a vampire either… And I certainly wouldn't make that decision for someone else,” Wesley said. “You do realise that if you did manage to give birth to a baby, you'd be choosing a life as a vampire for them too?” Nari blinked. “Yes, but… I…” He paused. “…With Diederich, since he's unturned, I thought that they might not be…” “Well, even if you could reproduce with a normal human being, you’re a vampire. Your kids would be vampires.” Nari grit his teeth. “…I guess I just…you know, if I could have a baby again, I didn't care what they were… But now just saying it, that’s sounds so incredibly selfish… To subject my own child to the exact same curse I've suffered for their entire life…” Wesley rubbed Nari's knee. “I think you need to think about your situation and talk to your partner. Really work out what path makes the most sense for both of you, and any possible children in the mix. What's best for everyone is what is important.” Nari nodded slowly. “Yes… I just want to be with Diederich… I should go…” Wesley checked his watch. “Where are you staying? Evie can drive you over.” “It's okay, I can walk…” “No way, this time of night, any drunk vampires tumbling out of a bar will want to pick a fight, and while I'm not saying you can't hold your own, you don't know much magic and vampires around the library know their stuff.” Nari sighed and told Wesley his hotel. “I do appreciate you guys trying to help me… You’re honestly the nicest vampires I've ever met.” “Aw, it's nothing,” Wesley said going to the elevator. “Each of us understands the difficulty of being accepted in the vampire world. But we've been very lucky and those who have should give.” “So, is this sort of a boarding house for vampires using the library?” Nari asked. “Sort of… We keep the rent super cheap though because the house was paid off many, many years ago. Our housemates just split utilities. Evie and I cover the taxes and insurance.” Wesley smiled. “If you ever need somewhere to stay, we'll be here. First month is free for long term. Of course, we won't charge you if you just want to come over and visit.” Nari nodded. “That's more than generous, thank you.” They rode the elevator together and met with Everett at the back of the house. “Good talk?” Everett asked, spinning his car keys. “Yes, I think so,” Wesley said. “Inaya and Jeremiah are back in their rooms, then?” “Yeah.” Everett unlocked the door. “Alright, Nari. We won't keep you any longer than you'd like. Wes said you needed a ride, yes? Come along.” Nari blinked. “When did he tell you?” “Come on, now.” Everett placed his hands on his hips. “You really do need a rundown on basic magic. You could teach toddlers mind connection.” “I really don't know anything, then…” Nari frowned following him out. Wesley waved as they left. “Hope to see you soon!” Nari waved again before going to the garage with Everett. “You should consider coming back tomorrow night,” Everett said, unlocking the car. “Jeremiah will teach you everything you need to know.” “I might take him up on that. At least I'll have gotten something out of this trip.” “Well, there you go. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” “Hm… Yes, I suppose.” “Oh, and you still have to meet Paolo! He’s Asian like you too! Wouldn’t guess from his name though, would you?” “You really don’t think before you speak, do you?” “Hey, respect your elders.” “Sorry, grandpa.”

[sparklingchan]

Chapter 1|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 2k+

Warnings : Profanity, descriptions of mythological monsters, monster killings, not edited.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: Felix and you have your first encounter - but why did it have to be under life threatening circumstances?

A/N : I’m so sorry this chapter took so long skskskkksks ugh I’ve been having some personal issues as well as midterms. For those of you who waited, thank you!

Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"So.. you are not allowed to use cellphones because it attracts deadly monsters?"

"Yes," you snicker at Zeus, "No thanks to you, dad."

Zeus - the king of all gods on Mount Olympus, the god of sky and lightning - sits on the couch beside you in a simple striped shirt and loose baggy jeans, his long hair tied in a braid. He doesn't look anything like a Greek God or a king, he doesn't look grand or royal or powerful. He sits on your couch with his legs crossed, back slouched - like a normal father of a normal twenty one year old.

He rolls his eyes at you, "Yeah, yeah, blame it on your poor, old dad. " he's immortal, by the way.

You grab a cookie from the plate your mom had put on the coffee table before driving to work. You're kind of glad she's not here to see Zeus - your mom and Zeus didn't exactly part on good terms. Of all the times you'd met your father, she's not been there to witness any of it, fortunately.

"What do you want, dad? I'm sure you're not here to eat cookies and talk about mortal technology with me. "

Zeus nods, sighing. The distressed expression clawing it's way back to his face. "When are you going back to the camp?" He asks.

"I was about to leave before you decided to show up. "

"And with who exactly?"

"Oh, with Minho."

Zeus runs his fingers through his flowing beard, "The Dionysus kid?"

You nod - yes, Minho's father is the Greek God of Wine and fertility but your friend's never been much too proud of it. So you know better than to add to his insecurities, even behind his back.

"Dad, can you please tell me what you're here for?" You insist, now slightly annoyed.

"Ah, fine, fine," he nods, frowning like a little kid, "I actually need your help, y/n. I cannot ask this of anyone but my own child, which is why I have come here."

It's normal for God's to let their demigod children do the bidding on their behalf - it's nothing surprising or new, but you're taken aback since you're father has never asked you to do anything for him before.

Before you can reply, he continues, "It's Poseidon, y/n. He's...He's been sick."

Poseidon? Sick? Isn't he an immortal God? How could he ever fall sick!

"He can just drink some nectar and ambrosia and he'll be as good as new, dad." You deadpan.

"No, not this time. Poseidon's trident is lost. Someone stole it, apparently. And the trident holds in all his power. He's weak without it, and with him gone it's hard to control what goes on in the Oceans. The monsters and demons and even the Nymphs are out of control. "

"I would be very grateful if you could do something about it, y/n. Tell your camp director about it and go on a quest with your demigod friends. Find the trident, please. We need it back or else the mortals as well as the demigods will not be safe anymore. "

As if they'd ever been, "Okay, fine..I'll put in a word at camp."

Just before Zeus speaks again, you hear the loud honk of a car outside your house. Minho.

"I have to go now, " you quickly grab your bags, "And dad?"

He stops munching on the cookies to look at you. "Please clean this place up and go back before mom comes home."

He winks at you as you close the door behind you, jogging to Minho's old Hyundai that stands near the side of the street.

He waves at you enthusiastically and you almost feel bad for your friend.

Oh, Minho, you’re not going to be happy with the news I have.

*

Halfway into the drive, you realise that you're not the only who has news - Minho too had information to share - more like rantings, but you liked to classify them as information.

"I fought with my parents again. " he sighs, his eyes focused on the road ahead, "They don't want me going back to camp every year. It scares them, y/n, can you believe it!"

Minho - unlike you - had never met his birth mother. He was adopted right from the hospital. Sadly, Dionysus visits him more often than he wishes he would.

"They're just worried because you keep getting yourself in trouble there. Try to keep calm, you'll do just fine." You mutter, shaking your leg, your mind running through numerous possibilities as to how you can break Poseidon's news to Minho.

"Well that's not all. So I fought with them and came to camp a month earlier. While I was out with the annoying Satyr, scouting for demigods, I found three more washed up on the shore of the beach where we first met you. They'd been attacked apparently, and we brought them to the camp and guess what, the youngest one is as old as you are! It's so fascinating for once to not have to deal with unruly teenagers."

You scoff, "First of all, the annoying Satyr has a name. He is called Eden. And second of all, how is it possible for demigods our age to make it this long without living behind a protective barrier?"

Minho shrugs, taking a sharp right to the road that leads home to Camp Levanter. "Beats me, y/n. They must have lived like nomads without anyone to protect them from the monsters, but I'm glad we found them. You'll like them too. The other boys love them."

You nod, not giving too much thought to a bunch of new demigods. You've been with demigods all your life so there's nothing to worry about. What you are worried about is Poseidon and his lost trident, because no matter what, this new development does put all mortals and half-bloods at risk.

"Um, Minho?" You start, playing with hem of your checkered shirt, "I might actually know why the new demigods were attacked by a sea monster- "

However before you can speak out the next word, your eyes land on a huge blue wave of water, as tall as a ten floored building, engulfing everything within it's vicinity. You see mortals run in alarm, screaming and crying. The cars rush away, trying to escape to a safer place. The earth vibrates beneath you, as if to warn about an approaching danger.

"What the hell is that!"

"It's a sea monster... a Cetus."

Minho slams on the accelerator, speeding away from the approaching sea monster. The camp is only a two minute drive from the highway you are on so if the Gods are kind enough, the both of you might just make it before the monster catches your scent. 

And if it does, then Minho and you are as good as dead.

"Can you see it, y/n?" Minho asks you in an urgent voice, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, "Do you think you could create lightning and kill that thing?"

You make the mistake of looking behind you, because as soon as you turn around, you see a gigantic dragon- like creature chasing close behind your car, baring it's fangs. Your blood turns cold.

"Minho, drive faster! I think it has smelt us!" You yell in panic, "We're not enough to defeat a sea monster; even with your vine growing power and my electrokinesis."

Minho does as he is told, driving the car faster than the mortals do in their stupid car races, his hands tightly gripping the handle and handsome features twisted in agony. 

You roll down the window and glance outside, estimating how much time you have to summon lightning before the monster catches upto your car.

Sucking in a deep breath, you pray to your father for help and thrust out your hand towards the sky, and see small electrical impulses begin at your fingertips. Rolling the window further down so as to be able to aim the lightning directly at the monster, you concentrate all your energy into your right hand. 

The lightning may not kill it, but it’ll surely slow it down.

Electric sparks cover your entire arm like it were some kind of jewelry. 

A deep breath, and you release.

“Its hurt,” you whisper as the monster stops on its tracks, its googly eyes closing as if in immense pain and in a spilt second, they open and stare right at you. The monster is angry. At you.

“Shit! Shit! Y/n!” Minho panics.

"Keep driving." You reassure Minho, "I'll slow it down."

You see dirty green scales of the monster when you glance at the rear view mirror and your immediate reaction is to grab your bow and arrows from the backseat of the car.

Minho nods and you position yourself such that only your arrow is pointed directly at the monster's direction while you squint one eye and careful peek out without showing too much of your face. Monsters have very good memory.

The monster hisses, his long, red tongue rolling out of his mouth as if in annoyance. The mortals do not bother coming in between your car and the Cetus - all thanks to the Mist. 

The Mist creates an illusion that hides any supernatural beings like monsters or titans or giants from the mortal's sight so it is safe to believe that the mortals are perceiving the Cetus as something as simple as a huge storm.

"It's coming closer." You warn Minho.

"I can't go faster than this! Has no one from the camp received any news of a sea monster coming out of the water and roaming out in the streets yet?" He yells back.

You stretch the bow string, the arrow aimed right between the monster's two hideous eyes.

"Stop! Y/n!" Minho suddenly says, slowing down a bit, staring at the rear view mirror, "There's something on the monster's head."

His words seem to fade away in the background as you see the monster's tail - resembling that of a fish - flying up behind him, and then thrashing hard against the concrete road. The ground shakes.

"I'm shooting." you mutter, "It's going to kill us all!"

"Y/n, no - don't."

"What! Why?"

You loosen the string and pull back the arrow, trusting Minho's judgement better than yours.

"Just trust me, okay?" Minho mutters, slowly pulling up by the sidewalk.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you quickly glance out the window.

"What the.."

You catch sight of a blonde man, probably only as tall as Minho, standing on top of the monster's head and thrusting his shining bronze sword right into the Monster's forehead.

The man looks in your direction, as if he’s known you all along and nods, with what you perceive to be a smile on his lips.

"Shoot now, y/n." Minho says from beside you.

You immediately act on it, stretching the string tighter, the arrow pointed at the ugly monster that now cries desperately. You let go of the string and the arrow cuts through the air and stabs the Cetus right at his neck.

A loud, thundering wail leaves it's mouth and then it disappears into millions of dust particles, on it's way to the depths of Tartarus ; the underground prison of all monsters.

"That's Felix, y/n." Minho says, unlocking the doors with a slight grin on his face. He looks proud. "He's one of the new demigods at the camp."

The said man quickly jogs up to your car, panting and huffing, and knocks at your window.

"Hey, can I have a ride back home, Minho?" He smiles, "And you must be y/n, right?"

And you sink back into your seat as you see his entire form up close.

Beautiful. Ethereal. And every other synonym of those words in the English dictionary fall weak if it ever comes to describing the man standing in front of you.

You don't even need to ask who his godly parent is because you already know now - Aphrodite, goddess of love, lust and beauty.

****

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[crystalas]

Blazing Blue part 1

Red Son runs away from home after overhearing his father call him a worthless excuse of a demon, agreeing to a truce with MK he ends up with the Monkie crew unaware that someone wants to steal a power that was sealed away long ago.

Chapter one: Truce buddies

Demon Bull King stood amongst the ruins of his old hidden stronghold, his robot clones busy digging out the remains and salvaging anything of use. He took a weary sigh and he surveyed all of what he had built since his revival and growled at how quickly it was destroyed…annoyingly at his own hand! Only then to be enslaved by Spider Queen while trying to raise enough funds to rebuild it. Needless to say, it had a been a few rough months for the Demon Bull Family.

“Man, I had heard your family had fallen on hard times but this is embarrassing!” a voice chuckled and Demon Bull King felt himself bristle with anger, he spun around to smash whoever thought it wise to mock a ten-foot-tall bull demon only to find the black monkey warrior Macaque lounging leisurely on top of a pile of rubble.

“Begone, you annoying simian shadow, I have no time for you” Demon Bull King snarled.

“Aw and I came all the way down here to chat, how rude. I mean I’ll excuse you not getting out the fine China for me on account of well…” he gestures to the crumbling ruin as a chunk of wall collapsed behind him. “Your recent string of humiliating defeats and the fact you had to team up with Monkey King…just wow…how low can you go?”

Macaque quickly sprung to his feet and nimbly dodged a lump of molten metal that flew right past him and buried itself into the ceiling behind him.

“If you have come here just to mock me then I will make you pay for every word you speak tenfold!” he roared.

“You’re right I’m sorry, I actually wanted to see if you were interested in an alliance of sorts?” Macaque exclaimed as he hopped lightly down the rubble pile without so much as disturbing a brick and looked up at Demon Bull King with a smile.

“You come to my home…Mock me and my family and rub salt in my wounds and you ASK FOR AN ALLIENCE!!??”

“What if I told you, it’s a plan to destroy the Monkey King? And his little fan club?” Macaque offered, Demon Bull King glared at him said not a word and then with speed not many would associate with a creature of his size and bulk snatched Macaque with his hand and brought him up to his face to look him in the eye.

“Know this Six Ears Macaque just because I have been buried under a mountain for the last few centuries does not mean I am ignorant of current events! You tried to best Monkey King with his protégé’s own power and you still lost!” Demon Bull King snarled as Macaque squirmed in his tight grip before erupting into shadowy mist and escaping. Demon Bull King glanced around trying to find the real one only for what he hoped was the real one to appear perched nearby on what remained of his furnace.

“See that’s why I’m here, Monkey King knows I like to… “borrow” power from other people, and he probably think I’ll go for powers of say his fanboy or someone just as good but what if I blindsided him with powers of say… The Demon Bull King? Or Lady Iron Fan? Or maybe say the power of demon fire?”

“No. Begone.”

“Com’on I’m not even asking you to do anything just let me borrow some power and I’ll do the butt kicking!”

“Begone.” Demon Bull King replied even harsher than last time.

“Fine, I get it.” Macaque grumbled “Best shot you have of getting your revenge and you’re going to turn it down!”

“I am not as foolish as to become a mere power source to another being, that is not an alliance that is servitude at best!” Demon Bull King declared standing to his full height with his fist clench ready for battle. “And do not think me as foolish to let you even try!”

“Fine. Fine I’ll just try Red Son, he’s more open minded about these things. Plus, I’ve heard the rumours of his… hidden inheritance” Macaque smirked as he spun on his heels and walked away casually only for a fist to slammed into the wall blocking his path.

“You will stay away from my family!” Demon Bull King hissed.

“So, it is true? I mean I’ve heard stories about it but given what I’ve seen of him in action I’d begun to doubt any of them!”

Demon Bull King thought quickly but to be fair his wife was more the brains of the operation, if Macaque was beginning to doubt the stories better to confirmed it than deny them.

“Red Son is a pathetic whelp, who is an embarrassment to us and unworthy of being called my son, he only brings shame and defeat to whatever he does. Whatever rumours you had heard are merely that; rumours. If he did have any power worthy of the Demon Bull King family name, don’t you think I would have used it by now?” Demon Bull King declared coldly, “You have clearly wasted your time and mine. You have your answer. Now go!”

“I guess they must be wrong if even you say Red Son is a worthless excuse of a demon. My mistake, you know how stories get hyped up over the years…I’ll be on my way” Macaque said sadly as he hopped down and walked away arms crossed behind his back. As he did, he glanced over at one of the corridors that snaked through Demon Bull King’s hide out to see a quiet and pale faced Red Son…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Red Son had managed to find his room amongst the rubble and save some clothes, books and tools. Sadly, an iron girder had broken through the roof of his room and destroyed his computer set up and mechanics bench, in a way he was ok with that. Rebuilding his computer would give him something to do while the reconstruction was underway. Now he was heading to the main chamber as he was getting peckish and fancied going up top to grab some food, might as well see if Father didn’t want anything before, he headed out.

As he walked down the corridor, he heard his father shouting and the muffled voices of him talking to another. Who could that be? Red Son wondered as he started to walk faster, Mother shouldn’t be back just yet. She had left the city to find spell ingredients for her magics, [it is kind of hard to locate stuff like dragon scales and tree spirit sap in a dense city metropolis.]

As he came to the opening to the main chambre he heard something that made his heart stop.

“Red Son is a pathetic whelp, who is an embarrassment us and unworthy of being called my son…” his father said, as he tried to listen everything else but it just to swim in and out of his focus as his head spun. “…Only brings shame and defeat…Worthless excuse of a demon…waste of…my time…”

Why? Why would his father say that? Red Son thought they had made progress in their relationship, okay fine he had only called him son that one time but…but that was still a better than nothing? He saved him when the Spider Queen caught him in her webs, they fought her together.

Was he really back to square one? No. it was apparently worse than that he wasn’t back at square one he was off the game board entirely as far as his father was concerned. Heavens knows how his mother must see him give she has called him useless to his face! He had tried no end of times to prove himself only to come home with nothing to show for it.

He didn’t even register Macaque walk by as he spun on his heels and went back to what remains of his room; stuffing what he had salvaged into a backpack and swallowing back a painful lump in his throat as he quickly wrote a note leaving it on the metal girder for whoever to find. He took a deep breath trying to steady his emotions before disappearing in a swirl of flames.

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 Monkey Kid or MK was feeling down of late; his Master the Monkey King had given him the task of catching a red leaf with a gold dot on it. That didn’t sound too hard right? Not when Monkey King is making it rain hundreds of other leaves all of different colours and hues as well and expects him to find it in minutes!

MK sighed, he knew what the lesson was about he was supposed to focus on that one leaf and avoid all other distractions. If he pulled it off and mastered it, he knew he’s probably be able to find a grain of rice on a beach or something as pointless but somehow totally cool sounding. Problem was he couldn’t pull it off, he kept getting distracted or just overwhelmed by the leaves getting dumped on him from above.

So now he sat on a ledge of Flower Fruit Mountain overlooking the sunset on the city, he liked to come here when he wanted to clear his head. On one hand it was freaking awesome he was the protégé of The Monkey King a warrior of renowned legendary might and skill…on the other hand sometimes it would dawn on him on just how daunting it was to live up to the expectations of an immortal warrior who seems to have seen everything the world has to offer and then some.

He sighed as he stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants before grabbing his staff. He began to walk he saw that he wasn’t the only one taking in the view with a sense of melancholy. As he got closer, he squawked in alarm as he saw the familiar flaming red hair and ragged jacket.

“RED SON??!!” this outburst caused Red Son to leap out of his skin and jump to his feet. “What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, push off Noodle Boy, last time I checked you don’t own this mountain!” Red Son snapped grabbing his stuff and storming off “But if you’re here that means Monkey King isn’t far behind and I rather not have to deal with him on top of everything else!”

“Huh? Hey wait!” MK shouted as he noticed the backpack. “What’s in there?!”

“None of your concern!” Red Son barked back.

“It is my concern when you show up on Monkey King’s Mountain with a suspicious bag! What’s in it?”

“It’s not a bomb or anything!”

“You got a BOMB??!!”

“Oh, for the love of…NO! I have not got a bomb or anything of the sort! I mean for pity’s sake I can literally throw fire balls why would I need to carry an explosive weapon??!!”

MK dashed forward and tried to grab the backpack and Red Son tried to pulled it away from him leading to a very childish game of tug of war.

“Lemme see what’s in it!”

“NO!”

“If you’ve got nothing to hide then you have nothing to worry about!”

“ITS MY STUFF SO LET GO!”

Sadly, a backpack that had endured many scorches from its owner and grounded by rubble could only bear so much and with one last pull from both sides the backpack’s fabric tore open and Red Son’s stuff poured onto the floor. Red Son dived down to grab what he could as MK took in the sights of clothes, food, and other mundane stuff.

“Dude…are you camping or something?” MK asked as he saw one of the items that had skidded out of Red Son’s reach, he knelt down to pick it up and saw it was a hand sized family portrait of Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King…before he could get a good look it was snatched from his hands.

“Just leave me alone!” Red Son growled “You can clearly see that I am not a threat!”

“Red …are you ok?”

Red Son was trying to figure out how to keep his stuff in a backpack with a massive hole in it, but he was also trying desperately to ignore the look of concern that was coming from his enemy.

“Are you running away from home?”

Red Son didn’t respond to that and he had stopped fiddling with his backpack as he was now staring sadly at the photo.

“Why?” MK asked softly.

“Why do you care?”

“I mean…I dunno…you and your dad seem to be getting on when I last saw you, seems strange that you’re running away!”

“I AM NOT RUNNING AWAY!” Red Son roared his hair flaring up in flames, gripping the photo tightly as he did. The flames died quickly as did Red Son’s anger as he then whispered “I’m…I’m…just making things easier for my parents…”

MK tilted his head in confusion, he looked at Red Son for a moment. This was a guy who was always so confident, loud and proud of his name and heritage he literally introduces himself in full name whenever he’s about to do something dastardly or anything for that matter. Now he was sitting there with a backpack full of his possessions, on a mountain far from home, staring at a family picture like he’s never going to see them again.

MK sat down next to Red Son, putting the staff away to show he meant no harm.

“Want to talk about it?”

Red Son looked away angrily.

“Ok how about I go first? You know how cool it is to have someone like the freaking Monkey King show up and say that’ll they teach you? It is don’t get me wrong but then you begin to see how big of a shadow you’re stuck under? We’re talking about a guy who literally stole from the heavens and got away with it and has beaten up who knows how many monsters and demons? I sometimes wonder if I’m ever gonna be good enough for this, it’s just feels like the whole universe is just waiting for me to screw up, just to prove that I can’t do it… y’know what I mean?” there a few moments of silence and MK was about to try again when he heard a small voice.

“At least he believes in you, it must be nice to have a someone like that.”

“Your parents don’t?”

“… …no…” Red Son muttered, “I overheard my father today telling someone that he considers me an embarrassment to the family name, along with a few other choice words…”

“So, you…left?”

“I don’t know I wasn’t thinking at the time!” Red Son cried out angrily tugging at his head in frustration, “I want prove to my father that I am worthy of being his son but how? How do I show him that I’m not a …a…pathetic whelp?”

There was a heavy tense silence between them as they both looked at each other and then at the city, the sun nearing finished setting and the in the twilight the city lights began to shine.

“You know what?” MK declared as he got up. “We both need a break!”

“What?”

“A break from all this living up to people’s expectations and ideals! A chance to recharge the batteries and get some of that well-being self-care stuff!”

“What exactly are you proposing?” Red Son inquired nervously.

“We can just hang out; you know play games and chill? Also, you can stay at mine till you get this all sorted out!”

Red Son looked at MK like he had just announced that the moon was made of cream cheese and was inhabited by flying guinea pigs.

“So…a truce?” he ventured nervously

“Yeah! My friends and I don’t fight you, and you don’t fight us!”

Red Son looked down at his destroyed backpack, then glanced at the mountain side he was on and realised that maybe coming up here to hide was a dumb idea.

“It not like I’ve got anything better to do!” he grumbled.

“AWESOME!” MK beamed “Let’s go! We’re gonna be Truce Buddies!”

[blursed-ninjago-ideas]

[ Lloyd has defeated Cole in a sparring match by setting his hair on fire. Luckily a water bucket is nearby and put out the hair fire. Cole glares at the cheerful Lloyd, all while the ninja stare.]

Lloyd: Papa said that if somebody tried to fight me to end them quickly and painfully. Humiliating too if there’s time for it.

Cole: You set my hair on fire.

Lloyd: How was I supposed to know your hair was that flammable?

Cole: Common sense? Basic fire safety and human decency?

Lloyd: Then don’t use so much hair spray.

Cole: This is all natural swoopiness.

Lloyd: Cole I’ve seen the beauty store coupon clippings. It’s ok to have flammable and swoopy hair. Papa’s hair is flammable too.

Jay: Again what are you talking about? Have some human decency!

Lloyd: Ha! You thought I was fully human. My parents barely are human at this point due to all the magic they practice and just dad’s miasma.

Kai: Define not fully human.

Lloyd: Papa’s a warlock with diluted formling ancestry, Dad’s an immortal demigod who mostly takes after grandma’s Oni side with a wee bit of draconian ancestry from grandfather, and mom well she’s part insect or something. She like feeds off of emotions and can shape shift.

Cole: Part insect?

Lloyd: That’s the weird thing to you? You a eighteen year old who can literally manipulate the element of earth alongside three other guys who can manipulate other elements?

Cole: Point. Dragons I can accept they’re like giant scaly cats. But how does a dragon turn into a bipedal humanoid?

Lloyd: They shed their true form for a secondary more smaller humanoid one duh. It’s easier to blend in and do more fine motors skill related things that way. Sure it’s a sacrifice in physical power but it has benefits. Uncle Wu is a prime example of it.

Zane: He always did seem a little off.

Lloyd: You never noticed his fangs hidden behind his beard or his hoard? The need to be in layers of clothing to trap the heat into him? Or how perky he is at sunrise and mid day?

[Kai slaps his forehead and sighs.]

Kai: He hoards tea sets and weapons doesn’t he?

Lloyd: Bingo. I’m just surprised Uncle Wu hasn’t engaged in a molting day recently. The amount of wrinkles and white hair just isn’t natural in a dragon at this age apparently.

Jay: Molting day and what age?

Lloyd: Really intense shedding which helps a dragon stay healthy and makes them look so youthful. But the process leaves them potentially vulnerable to attack and considering Dad’s plotting. Well you can see why he hasn’t molted in what appears to be years. He’s little over a thousand years old now.

Kai: *trying very hard to not be proud of Lloyd's pyromania*

-Ivy