#I also could have had him be all metal but A) Link is just innately connected to the woods and B) vintage radio feel

[secretmellowblog]

The thing is, Jean Valjean’s “nineteen year prison sentence for stealing a loaf of bread” from Les Mis isn’t actually unusual….not even today! I see people talking about it as if it’s strange or unimaginable when it happens every day.

In modern America — often as a result of pointlessly cruel (and racist) habitual offender and mandatory minimum laws— people are routinely sentenced to life in prison for minor crimes like shoplifting or possession of drugs.

The ACLU did a report in 2013 detailing the lives of various people who were sentenced to life in prison without parole for nonviolent property crimes like:

•attempting to cash a stolen check

•a junk-dealer’s possession of stolen junk

metal (10 valves and one elbow pipe)

•possession of stolen wrenches

•siphoning gasoline from a truck

•stealing tools from a tool shed and a welding machine from a yard

•shoplifting three belts from a department store

•shoplifting several digital cameras

•shoplifting two jerseys from an athletic store

• taking a television, circular saw, and a power converter from a vacant house

• breaking into a closed liquor store in the middle of the night

And of course, so so so many people sentenced to life without parole for the possession of a few grams of drugs.

And we could go on and on!

Gregory Taylor was a homeless man in Los Angeles who, in 1997, was sentenced to “25 years to life” for attempting to steal food from a food kitchen. He was released after 13 years. The lawyers helping to release him even cited Les Miserables in their appeal, comparing Taylor’s sentence to Jean Valjean’s.

And there’s another specific bit of social commentary Hugo was making about Valjean’s trial that’s still depressingly relevant. He writes that Valjean was sentenced for the theft of loaf of bread, but also that the court managed to make that sentence stick by bringing up some of his past misdemeanors. For example, Valjean owned a gun and was known to occasionally poach wildlife (presumably for his starving family to eat.) . So the court exaggerates how harmful the bread theft was—he had to smash a windowpane to get the bread, which is basically Violence— then insist the fact that he owns a gun and occasionally poaches is proof that he is habitually and innately violent. Then when Valjean obviously becomes distressed traumatized and furious as a result of his nakedly unjust sentence and begins making desperate (and very unsuccessful/impulsive/ poorly thought through) attempts to escape…. the government indifferently tacks more years onto his sentence, labels him a “dangerous” felon, and insists that its initial read of him as an innately violent person was correct.

And it’s sad how a lot of the real life stories linked earlier are similar to the commentary Hugo wrote in 1863? Someone will commit a nonviolent property crime, and then the court insists that a bunch of other miscellaneous things they’ve done in the past (whether it’s other minor thefts or being addicted to drugs or w/e) are Proof they’re inherently violent and incapable of being around other people.

A small very petty fandom side note: This is also why I dislike all those common jokes you see everywhere along the lines of “lol it’s so unrealistic for the police to want to arrest Valjean over a loaf of bread, there must have been some other reason the police were pursuing him. Because the state would never punish someone that harshly and irrationally for no reason. so maybe javert was just gay haha”. (Ex: this tiktok— please don’t harass the creator or poster though, I don’t think they were intending to mean anything like that and its just a silly common type of joke you see made about Les mis all the time so it’s not unique in any way.) because like.

As much as I don’t think Les Mis is a flawless book or that its political messaging is perfect….the only way that insanely long unjust sentences for minor crimes is “unrealistic” is if you’re operating on the assumption that prisons are here to Keep You Safe by always only punishing bad criminals who do serious crimes. And that’s just, not true at all. Like I get that these are just goofy silly shallow jokes, and I’m not angry or going to harass anyone who makes them. but it feels like there’s an assumption underlying all those goofy jokes that “this is just not how prison works!” “Prisons don’t routinely sentence people to absurd laughably unjust pointless sentences!” “Prisons give people fair sentences for logical reasons!” When like…no

Valjean being relentlessly hounded and tortured for a minor crime in a way that is utterly ridiculous and arbitrary in its cruelty is not actually a plot hole in Les mis. It’s a plot hole in …..society ajsjkdkdkf. And the only way to fix that is to fight for prison abolition or at least reform, and (in America) stand up against the vicious naked cruelty of habitual offender and mandatory minimum laws.

But yeah :(. I hate how Les Mis opens with a prologue saying the novel will be obsolete the moment the social issues it describes have been resolved— but two hundred years later, the book is still more relevant than ever because we’re dealing with so many of the exact same injustices.

[k--havok]

I posted 777 times in 2022

That's 666 more posts than 2021!

162 posts created (21%)

615 posts reblogged (79%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@k--havok

@space-cadead

@autisticwolfesbrainisautistic

@ren-c-leyn

@writingpotato07

I tagged 549 of my posts in 2022

Only 29% of my posts had no tags

#shutuplanx - 126 posts

#writeblr - 87 posts

#inspo - 73 posts

#wid - 61 posts

#writeblr community - 54 posts

#waking into divinity - 51 posts

#response - 44 posts

#writers on tumblr - 35 posts

#writing - 32 posts

#ref - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#at this point i could spin a couple of wheels and bake smth in a random generator and itll turn out better than whatever my brain poops out

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

OSIRIS’ TRIALS

Rating: E for Explicit, M for Mature Art belongs to ARTdemariel on Twitter

He was many things. An artist. A black-belt. Gunslinger. Snob. But more than any of those things, a jack of many, many different trades.

Dakarai Zoheir is an enigma that lies in the shadows. His business is more than just death, however. It's art. When a mysterious client contacts him and offers him the chance to kill the billionaire Renenetmos Nimr, it doesn't take long for him to accept. But this job isn't like any other.

Renenetmos is no average man. Nor is he an average billionaire. He's something far beyond Dakarai's imaginations and nightmares.

[Introduction Chapter/Pilot]

Read now! Only on:

AO3 

Wattpad

Please read full summary/tags and warnings before reading. Links will take you offsite.

Like my work? Buy Me A Coffee

20 notes - Posted April 14, 2022

#4

33 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#3

hate hate HATE the idea of sex scenes being superfluous and unimportant.

Sex scenes can:

Be for titillation (yes this is ok!)

Be a plot point

Show intimacy between 2+ characters

Be used as part of a character study

Be any other reason you can think of

Just because you don’t like sex scenes doesn’t mean they aren’t there for a reason (even just for titillation).

Sex scenes do not make a work less literary or automatically genre fiction. They do not make a work have “less meaning” automatically either.

Let people write what they want to write in peace.

42 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

#2

I've been obsessed about monsters with a gargoyle type of anatomy. With beautiful large wings and they twitch and flutter during pleasure

100% yes to wings. I know you said gargoyle like anatomy but like... if you think about it, gargoyles are pretty romantic (or maybe i’m weird idk) Also does anyone else remember that TV show Gargoyles from Disney?? I can blame half the reasons why I'm like this on kids shows ngl

Also idk if you were expecting wing kink but here we go~ 

Gargoyles

 Rating: T Tags: Wing play, sensuality, lore building

Gargoyles may look intimidating, but in reality such is not the case. They are protectors of the home, old warriors, and vigilant beasts who stalk the night.

During the day, their skin hardens to rock as the sunlight graces their powerful shoulders, where wings sprout from their back. The deep slumber is required to maintain their nightly activities and energy.

But as the sun falls from the sky, and night reigns the firmament, they come alive as moonlight washes across their forms. Their bodies rise, their flesh cracking from the daily disuse. As they shed their daytime sleepiness, the battle beings.

Gargoyles are fiercely loyal creatures. They have an innate sense of intuition and the uncanny ability to read the intentions of others. Those who wish to undue harm upon the home best beware. A gargoyle’s tough hide keeps them protected from both magic and blade. Their stone flesh hinders metal strikes. Powerful magic glances off their sculpted physique, leaving naught a mark behind.

A home is not just a place, however. Home can be found in others as well. And if a gargoyle chooses you as a home, they will spend all of their immortal life protecting your form. Even after death, it is not uncommon to see a gargoyle hunched over a grave, protecting their person, their livelihood, their hearth, until the end of time. Even after bones become dust.

Many see these creatures as terrifying. And in the midst of battle to protect those who they deem important, it is understandable. Gargoyles need no magic. Nor do they need weapons other than their powerful wings, tough claws, and fangs.

A gargoyles’ wings are yet another powerful tool of their disposal. As gargoyles are heavy, stone-like creatures, their wings need to be equally powerful and large to lift their bodies into the air. A gargoyle does not have organs as humans do, as they are made of stone. And although their skin is tough and impervious to most things, their insides are hollow and full of their own inner magic.

It is a myth that gargoyles cannot feel touch. They can sense the warmth of a coming dawn, the cool breeze of night, and those who dust tender fingers across their spine. As most gargoyles usually only feel the lacerations of battle, a more delicate touch is usually quite foreign to most. 

Although made of stone, all gargoyles have softer spots of their body, akin to pressure points in that of a human. This is especially true around the base of their wings. The base of the wing is the most delicate part of a gargoyle and most avoid allowing enemies to get purchase or even others to touch them. 

But, for someone who has befriended a gargoyle, and who has gained a gargoyle’s full trust, touching the wings is a rare gift. 

When touching the base of their powerful wings, the stone is more brittle. Softer. Almost like limestone. It is often cold due to outside temperatures. The gentle dusting of a few fingers will often lead to a small, full-body shudder. The wings, usually still, lower and open wider, allowing further access to those the gargoyle trusts. A slightly stronger press, akin to the kneading of a cat, lends to further reactions. When the uncertainty and strangeness subsides, a new desire burns. 

Gargoyles often show their emotions with their tail. While a quickly lashing tail may denote rage, flicks of the tip often point towards pleasure. 

Some gargoyles have more sensitivities in the wings than others. For those who are extra sensitive, all it takes is a long stroke down the forelimb of the wing, from the joint of the spine toward the first finger of the wing, to induce utter wanton. A gargoyle may open their wings full to the sensation, bowing their head down and curling their limbs beneath their rock-hard bodies in a show of absolute trust and adoration. 

Most who gaze upon the gargoyle do not see a creature of elegance and resignation. But those who can are graced with a sight like no other. Wings powerful enough to snap metal tremble beneath soft, fleshy fingers. The guttural moans of a gargoyle sound similar to that of crumbling stone. Their glowing, pupil-less eyes somehow roll to the back of their skull from the bliss of such machinations. 

For the truly lucky and adored, such attention and care may lead to a gargoyle wrapping their powerful, stone wings around you. Although their flesh may be rough, their touch and passion are not. 

76 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

729 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[fanartfunart]

[Image ID: 2 digital drawings of Legend of Zelda’s Link as an android made out of metal and wood. His long, braided hair is blue and slightly see-through and glowing. He has a blue gemstone embedded in his forehead. There are markings based off of the Guardian Armor though out. He has glowing blue eyes and no mouth or nose, and his ears are represented by long metal antennae. His chest has a stylized version of the Hyrule royal crest, flipped so the ‘wings’ are framing a gold circle in the center. He is holding a shield and sword, glaring up towards the viewer. The only difference between the pictures is the first one has moss and ivy growing on him, and the second one does not. End ID]

OK. Purely the only reason behind this is: I’ve been Waiting to play a version of Link in a RPG. And the RPG I’m starting literally has “Guardian Warrior” as an option & a race that’s basically living constructs that were made in an ancient time, and I immediately thought ‘my time to shine’. Also the aesthetics of the Guardians & Divine Beasts are cool so now you get a Guardian Link. The part in his chest is actually based off a old time-y radio. I didn’t take away his voice-box entirely >w<

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE FIVE || CURSE WOMB MUST DIE II 

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + violence + mention of blood + mention of organ + mention of death + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 24 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 4.8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : curse womb must die I

↳ next episode : after rain

↳ barista’s notes : back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ and we have ended the detention centre arc and now will be moving on to the training arc! isn’t that crazy, you have finished episode five ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ i’m not really good with fight scenes, so if you care confused, don’t hesitant to ask me anything to clarify! WE ALSO FINALLY MEET THE SECOND-YEARS!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique 

Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai : 3:35-3:40

Sentan Hakuja : Wiki Page

‘Cursed Energy Web Technique’ : video (4:23-5:27)

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing

“If you can, please send a grade one sorcerer or higher but that won’t be necessary if I don't die,” you sternly commented, leading both Fushiguro and Ijichi to shiver at the statement you just announced.

Still shaken at what you had just said, Ijichi sent himself off before closing the window to prevent any cold raindrops from coming at him as he drove away from the area you and Fushiguro were standing in right now.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, I ain’t going to listen to you at all then Fushiguro,” you stated with a frown painted on your face before looking back at the building behind his body.

Taking your katana, you looked at the bottom of the handle to find a metal loop at the bottom with a red charm tied before it was simply slowly unwinded by you as you prepared for the worst that was about to come.

“What are you doing L/N?” Fushiguro asked in a worried tone, causing you to turn to look at him with a deadpan expression.

“Just preparing for the worst Fushiguro”

                                               ꕥ

The rain was still unsettled as you stared at the building of the detention centre that was in front of you with a nonchalant look present on your face. Carefully, you hook your katana on the side of your left hip rather than the usual spot of your back since you knew you were going to need extremely quick access to your weapon if your prediction of what was going to happen was going to become a reality.

Suddenly, there was a swift but noticeable change in the air causing you to grab Fushiguro’s sleeve to pull him closer to you in case of any attacks that would happen since he was standing behind you, out of your central view.

“The Innate Domain’s closed off, the special-grade is dead!” Fushiguro stated to you in a shocked but quiet tone, causing the grip you had on his sleeve to tighten since the feeling in the pit of your stomach was becoming agonising to the point where you wanted to vomit it out.

Yet, you weren’t fearful for yourself but rather the wellbeing of the shikigami user behind you and the classmate, who was still inside the building at this current moment in time.

“We just need Itadori to return safely now,” Fushiguro hopefully whispered, yet you had given no response since you knew that the chance of the mentioned classmate coming back with himself out rather than Sukuna was extremely low.

“That’s almost impossible, from what I can recall, him and Sukuna haven’t even agreed to a bi-” you began to explain, only for a sudden aggressive presence to stop you in your tracks to which Fushiguro also felt as you both froze on the stop you both were standing in right now.

“Sorry, but he’s not coming back”

A familiar voice from behind you spoke leading to both of you and Fushiguro to freeze on the stop before you came to the sense that what you had predicted was proven right. However, you didn’t foresee that he was coming straight to the both of you, even when he had threatened it clearly before Fushiguro dragged you away to search for Kugisaki.

“Don’t be so frightened, I’m in a good mood right now, let’s chat for a bit,” Sukuna calmly mentioned as he processed to make his appearance in front of you both since you refused to look in the opposite direction.

“This is what he gets for trying to use me without any kind of pact, feels like he’s having some trouble switching back,” Sukuna pronounced as he turned to the side.

‘To be honest, it was surprising for him to switch back after eating the finger without the pact’ you thought before letting out of Fushiguro’s sleeve once you was comfortable that he was out of harm's way, ‘besides that should be enough cursed energy for now,’ you internally spoke before taking a quick glance on the same area where you hand was as you processed to place the same hand on the handle of your katana.

“Still, though it’s only a matter of time,” Sukuna stated, as he gripped onto Itadori’s school jacket before unexpectantly ripping into shreds to showcase his muscular upper body, revealing the strange back marking he adorned on his chest.

“So, I thought about what I can do right now,” the King of Curses uttered before raising his hand to suddenly puncture a hole within the middle of his check, shocking both you and Fushiguro from his gruesome action as hints of blood started to pour from the corner of his lips.

‘Shit! I haven’t finished preparing,’ you pondered in a panic manner, as your hand was still on your weapon’s handle, transferring some of your cursed energy to your katana, making sure it had reached to the tip of the blade within the wooden casing for what you were planning to execute.

“Wh-what are you..” Fushiguro stuttered as he looked at the scene in complete horror, only for a massive pool of blood to pour in the middle between Sukuna’s legs before forcibly ripping out the most vital organ needed for Itadori to come back alive.

“I’m taking this brat hostage,” Sukuna declared, as he proudly and sadistically presented the heart he had taken out to you and Fushiguro, causing you to internally become repulsed at the scene since you still needed to concentrate shifting a tiny amount of cursed energy needed to your katana.

“Hostage?!” Fushiguro snarled as he shifted back slightly.

“Yeah, I can live without this, but that ain’t true for the brat,” Sukuna informed you and Fushiguro, as he then tossed the heart to the side like it was a piece of trash he needed to get rid of quickly.

“Switching out with me means he dies. Also, for good measure,” Sukuna mentioned before revealing a finger in his hand causing you to look at the cursed object he had just now swallowed with widened eyes.

‘I thought it wasn’t his finger that the special-grade curse consumed! Fuck!’

“With that, I'm free as a bird, you can be frightened now, I’ll kill you both for no particular reason,” Sukuna declared as he flexed his hand leading you to rapidly unleash your blade from its black wooden casing for the first time since the unfortunate day as you were now prepared to fight against the King of Curses.

“Our positions are reversed now,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath (to which you heard) before he determinedly looked at the curse right in front of him as he positioned himself in a fighting stance causing a wave of anxiety to consume you.

‘One of his divine dogs are already down, if he risks another shikigami, that possibly will also get destroyed in the process’

“You just don’t get it, he’s..Itadori’s coming back even if that means he’ll die, that’s just who he is,” Fushiguro determinedly stated while staring down at Sukuna.

“You give him too much credit, this guy’s just a little tougher and denser than other humans” Sukuna countered back with a smirk on his face before processing to wipe off the blood staining his lip with the back of his hand. 

“Just a moment ago, he was scared out of his mind, on the verge of death and prattling on about his regrets and all that nonsense, I know for a fact he doesn’t have the guts to kill himself,” Sukuna taunted as he smiles smugly at both of you.

‘A special-grade has the ability to used Reserve Cursed Techniques, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to use it on his heart, I just need to slide down somewhere around his chest area to force him to do that’

Shifting your eyes to the side, you noticed Fushiguro’s hands were shaking leading you to internally sigh since you knew he was thinking the same idea as you, while probably debating the fact on how he could make Sukuna revive his heart before Itadori switches back as well as how he was going to battle against a special-grade.

“Should I make the first move then?” you rhetorically asked, before swiftly throwing your katana towards Sukuna like it was a spear, only for him to dough the weapon even at its immense speed.

“You think that was going to hit me?! Maybe you ain’t the fighting type as I suggested!” Sukuna roared in amusement, not noticing how you seemingly suddenly grabbed onto thin air (like you were holding onto a hanging support handle on a bus) before pulling your arm back in a fast motion, resulting in the attacking blade unexpectedly return back to you as quick as it was thrown, for it to then slash a massive slit on Sukuna’s cheek causing the curse to look at you in complete surprised before you swiftly moved forwards towards him, grabbing the handle of the travelling blade to attempt to slash down on your targeted area, only for Sukuna to dodge as quickly as he could.

‘Damn, but that should be fine for now’

However, before you could even attempt to get another chance of getting a slit around his check area, you heard incoming footsteps from your side leading you to deck down as you suddenly saw a leg swing above your head, indicating to you that Fushiguro had made a move to attack the cursed vessel, yet once again Sukuna managed to dodge against as well as the incoming punches that came along with Fushiguro’s attempts.

“Interesting, not only the girl managed to injure me but you use shikigami, but you’ll still come at me yourself?” Sukuna questioned, as he seemed amused at both of you and Fushiguro.

However, before he could mention another word there was a light pressure placed on his right shoulder causing him to turn back, only to find you in a lower stance with your index and middle finger to be pressed upon his shoulder blade.

“Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai,” you chanted, before a high-density of cursed energy was discharged from the tip of your index finger to form a concentrated bolt of lighting leading it to pierce a noticeable hole on Sukuna’s shoulder surprising him as well as Fushiguro, since you angled it well away from him getting hit before you once again attempted to swing your katana down upon his back to execute your plan only for him to dodge it come again.

‘Fuck sake! You make it so easy to hit you the first time but when I want to slice you down, you suddenly dodge it!’

However, before you could use another cursed spell, a shikigami made its way to attack Sukuna leading you to discover it was Nue only for Sukuna to once again avoid the strike of its sharp talons before Fushiguro aims to get a hit at Sukuna, only for the King of Curses to block them with his arms. Yet you couldn’t help but internally smile the second you saw the wrist that you were holding onto earlier had made contact with Sukuan’s arms.

‘If plan A doesn’t work out, B will do just fine for now’

However, your hint of internal happiness quickly ended once you saw Fushiguro take a hit from Sukuna’s fist causing hints of blood to escape from his mouth leading you to quickly stand up straight as you rushed over to the scene. Yet, before you could even attempt to attack the curse again, you felt a presence underneath you causing your body to instinctively move again before a large snake appeared from the ground catching Sukuna within its mouth lifting him in the air as he was stunned with surprise at the fact of his sneak attack.

“Gang up on him!” Fushiguro yelled out to his shikigami, leading Nue’s wings to surround itself with purple lightning as it attempted to land a hit on Sukuna, only for him to duck at the right moment before it tried again, only for it to have the same result.

“Fushiguro, deactivate the snake now before it’s destroyed!” you screamed at your fighting partner. However, before he even got the message you suddenly saw fragments of what seemed to be the snake’s skin falling down in front of you before noticing Sukuna was already behind Fushiguro, tightly gripping onto the back of his dark blue sorcerer jacket.

“Hey, what did I just say? Let’s use the open space!” Sukuna shouted, before aggressively flinging Fushiguro up in the air before following the sorcerer himself, leaving you behind to witness his inhuman strength.

‘Shit, they’re going to get to the edge of the evacuation area!’

Reaching into the depths of your skirt pocket, you quickly pulled out a long, white cloth before letting it spin around you at a large radius as it slowly began to enclose the gaps that were making you visible to the world.

‘Sentan Hakuja,’ you internally chanted before the cloth coiled you complete before speedily teleporting you in front to what seemed to be like a construction site or an abandoning building, you weren’t quite sure. However, what you were sure of was that Fushiguro and Sukuna hadn’t noticed that you had arrived despite the vast entrance you had made from your cursed technique - but what you were most afraid of was the fact the Nue was gone, causing you to worry at the fact that now that shikigami was destroyed.

“What a waste of talent, but the girl back at that place, she knows how to use her technique extremely well,” Sukuna announced, causing Fushiguro to look at the King of Curses in both confusion as well as frustration at the fact he had mentioned you, worried if he was about to get killed, Sukuna would hunt you down next.

“Whatever, either way, that won’t be enough to fix this, you’re risking your life over stupid shit,” Sukuna stated as he pointed the hole on his chest. However, it seemed like you had enough of the conversation.

“Activate!” you yelled out before stabbing your katana to the ground, causing both males to turn around to finally notice you. However, it was too late for Sukuna to have the opportunity to counter what you were doing as he felt something restraining his arm’s movement before noticing what seemed to be a blue web-like strand attached to both his shoulders, yet when he turned to you, you seemed to be in the same situation but with one arm free.

“L/N!” Fushiguro yelled out in a panic before noticing that you were not at all afraid but rather calm despite the situation that you both were in now.

“What is this?” Sukuna questioned, as he observed the web-like structure you had created only for you to glance at him with a deadpan expression on your face.

“It’s just a simple web I created from pure cursed energy that is retaining the both of us right now,” you answered as you continued to peer at the confused King of Curses, who was trying to rip away from the strand-like he had with the shikigami snake, only to no avail as he struggled to move his whole upper body in general.

“How come? You didn’t touch me except for the cursed technique you used?!” Sukuna roared as he glared at you only for you to then let out a sigh of frustration.

‘It’s such a drag to explain…’

“I transferred some of my cursed energy to Fushiguro’s wrist as well as to my katana, so when they made contact with you, it allowed me to connect the strands of the web to those areas where you had been hit, also the protective spell I placed on the back of Itadori’s neck before we went in the detention centre was surprisingly still intact, allowing me to track you and the chain at the end of my katana to restain you further,” you thoroughly explained, before clicking your fingers causing the sudden but slow reveal of the long black chain (attached at the end of your handle - on the metal loop where the red charm was) that you had concealed with your cursed energy to appear surrounding you and Sukuna at a large radius while the extra length was tightly wrapped around his upper body.

“That was how I pulled my katana back at the beginning of the fight if that’s what you were also wondering,” you commented, leading Sukuna to look at you with a larger smirk than what you thought his reaction would have been.

“You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?” Sukuna asked, before laughing causing you to look at him suspiciously, yet you couldn’t let that bother you at all, right now all you needed was for Itadori to switch back even if he was going to die.

“Even though I technically didn’t save you, Fushiguro did but I would like to give my answer I guess,” you commented before running your hands through your wet hair trying to push away the strands that were concealing your vision slightly. 

“I should have exorcised you back then, in fact it’s my duty as part of the L/N Clan to, but I know you’re a good person at heart Itadori, I knew that since the day I saw you back at school and probably Fushiguro saw that as well when he decided to save you,” you explained with a smile, as you began to notice the markings gradually disappear from his face and body causing you to slowly deactivate the cursed energy web that was immobilising you and Itadori while the chain that was coiled around him slowly began to loosen its grip on him.

“It was for selfish and emotional reasons but that’s fine though,” Fushiguro stated as his posture relaxed once he noticed that you were slowly lowering your guard, “I’m not a hero, I’m a jujutsu sorcerer, so I’ve never once regretted saving you,” he then announced with a smile on his face.

Suddenly, itadori looked at you with a smile on his face before turning to look at Fushiguro, who was behind him. “I see, you really are smart, Fushiguro, Gojo,  you’ve put more thought into this than I have,” Itadori mentioned with a smile, as he pushed his hair back, “I think your conviction’s a proper one, but I don’t think mine is wrong, either,”.

Suddenly, more blood started to drip down from his wound causing you to move forwards to make sure that Itadori didn’t fall down completely. “Oh, sorry, I’m almost done for, guess I won’t have to worry you guys, Kugisaki, or Gojo-sensei, live a long life,” Itadori faintly stated to you both before falling straight into your arms causing you to fall to your knees due to his heavyweight causing your skirt and high-knee socks to become soaked in the rain that already bathed your hair and face.

The rain only grew heavily as seconds went by, only reflecting on the disappointment and devastation that was coming from both you and Fushiguro, as you both stayed silent letting the rain consume you both for the time being.

Maybe after the rain, he might come back.

‘Please come back’

                                               ꕥ

“So you had your suspicions?” you questioned your adopted father, as you leaned against the railing of the balcony, while he stood next to you leaning against the same railing.

“There was a special grade there, sending the first-years to rescue five who may or may not be alive is out of order, even if you are capable of exorcising it Y/N,” Gojo explained causing you to realise where this was going.

“So what you are saying is, since you indefinitely suspended Itadori’s execution, that got some higher-ups upset, leading us to go do that mission, in order for Itadori to be killed?” you suggested, leading Gojo to turn silent at your comment, leading you to get the answer you were expecting even if no words were exchanged.

“You’re strong though Y/N, you effortlessly fought like Sukuna was just a normal curse,” Gojo complimented you, only for you to give him no response since it was not a good time for you to be praised.

You failed at saving Itadori.

“As a special grade like your father, I need you to look out for Megumi and Nobara for a while, train them to the best of your abilities since we got an event coming up!” Gojo cheered, leading you to present him with a glare.

‘What a drag...I really can’t be bothered to be in an event’

“I’m going to check on the others Gojo-sensei, I’ll see you later,” you stated before standing on the feet as you than processed to walk away with your hand up, as a way to wave him ‘goodbye’.

“Call me dad for once Y/N~” Gojo shouted, leading you to groan in annoyance before making your way to the entrance, where you knew Fushiguro and Kugisaki were since Gojo did take you away from them when he found you sitting with them on the stone steps near the entrance of the school.

After some time, you finally managed to reach your destination as you found yourself standing at the top of the extra steps above your classmates, before noticing a few new faces further below, leading you to become perplexed since you weren’t expecting any other sorcerers to come by today - well...that’s what Gojo said.

“Don’t tell me the other student died as well?” the female sorcerer question, leading you to look in her direction in confusion since she seemed a little familiar to you for some reason.

‘Ah, she was the person I saw when I moved into the dorm, but she didn’t really see me’

“I’m right here,” you commented, leading to everyone that was in your view to look up at your direction to find you standing with your arms crossed before you steadily made your way down the steps as you processed to stand a step above between Fushiguro and Kugisaki, who were still seated on the same spot they were in when you had left them for a few minutes.

“You don’t even have a scratch on you,” the female sorcerer commented, as she noticed you didn’t have any patches or bandages like the other two first-years had once you observed you.

“She’s a strong sorcerer,” Fushiguro commented, leading you to kick his back before commenting that he was a strong sorcerer as well.

“Ah! Are you the special grade, Gojo was mentioning about?” the large Panda asked, causing you to give him a glance before answering, “I don’t believe I’m a special-grade sorcerer but if that what my drag ass of an adoptive dad ranked me, then I guess I am,”.

“Who are you guys?” you then asked since it seemed like they had already done their introductions for Kugisaki. Although, it seemed like your female classmate was in the same sort of confusion as you since she noted to you that she had no idea who the fellow sorcerers were.

“Our second-year upperclassmen,” Fushiguro nonchalantly answered before he continued by introducing them to you and Kugisaki.

“Zenin-senpai is the best of all the students at wielding cursed tools, that’s the Cursed Speech user, Inumaki-senpai, he can only speak in ingredients of onigiri and that’s panda senpai,” Fushiguro introduced everyone causing some questions to manifest in your head.

‘Zenin ha?..she doesn’t seem like the one that my mum was talking about, so I don’t have to suspect her but is there anything else to add for Panda-senpai?’

“There’s one more, Okkotsu-senpai, who is the only one I can openly respect, but he’s overseas right now,” Fushiguro added, before slowly standing on his two feet.

“You’re not adding more about the panda named Panda?” Kugisaki asked as she looked up at the shikigami user to gain some information, only to be ignored.

“Man, sorry about this and when you’re in mourning...please forgive us for that,” Panda apologised before placing his hands together as a sign to be forgiven, even though that sign reminded you about something else.

‘Ah...that’s the same hand gesture for one of my cursed spells’

“The truth is, we’d like you to participate in the Kyoto Sister School Exchange Event,” Panda explained, causing you to recall about an ‘event’ Gojo had mentioned to you.

“Oh, that’s what he meant,” you whispered before Kugisaki interrupted you by repeating the event’s name in confusion.

“What’s that?” Kugisaki asked as she turned to Fushiguro looking for the answer.

“It’s a get-together with the other Tech school in Kyoto, though isn’t that event mainly second and third-years?” the erratic-haired sorcerer answered your classmate before questioning the invitation since all of you were first-years.

“And those stupid third-years are suspended right now, so you need to participate,” Zenin explained, causing you to look to the side with an annoyed expression on your face since you realised that this meant you had to cover up your tracks more than you were bothered to do.

“What do you do at this event? Smash Bros? I won’t lose if it’s the Wii version, I’ll Meteor Smash so you can’t come back” Kugisaki randomly mentioned with a determined look on her face as she formed a fist, causing you to look in her direction with a confused face since you didn’t know how she came to that conclusion in the first place.

“Then let’s make a 3-man team, the exchange event has the principals of the Tokyo and Kyoto schools each propose a form of competition to be held for an entire day over the course of two days, though that’s how it is on paper,” Panda informed you and Kugasaki, who were oblivious to what this event was in general.

“Every year, the first day is a team battle, and the second day is individual battles,” Panda explained, leading Inumaki to agree with him by saying ‘salmon’ as his confirmation to his classmates' explanation.

“Individual and team battles? We fight?! Against other jujutsu sorcerers?!” Kugisaki shouted after realising what the event really entailed, causing you to look at her before lightly smacking the back of her head.

“You just realised that?” you asked in a dumbfounded tone.

“Yeah, it’s a jujutsu battle where anything but killing goes,” Zenin confirmed with a huge grin causing you internal sigh at the fact that you had to hide the use of your cursed technique since that would blow your cover entirely.

“We’ll train you up well so you won’t get killed. Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Panda declared before he started to throw some air punched after every ‘yeah’ he said.

“Wait, do you have time for that? I thought we were short on jujutsu sorcerers,” Kugisaki asked since she concluded that there were only six of you right now.

“That’s a good question, For now, we are. The glim emotions people harbour from late winter through spring cause an outburst of curses in the early summer, so that’s our busy season,” Panda explained as Zenin then explained that some sorcerers are busy all year long, but since things are settling down soon, it should be fine.

“So, you’ll do it, right? You just had a partner die on you, after all,” Zenin asked, as she was waiting for all your responses.

“We’re in!” Fushiguro and Kugisaki simultaneously answered with determined looks on their faces before turning back to look at you, waiting for your answer.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, you knew that you had no way out of this since they looked so motivated for you to join, even if you disagreed with them.

“This is such a drag, but fine, I’ll join in too,” you replied with a small smile on your face leading them to nod at you before turning back to your seniors.

“But if I decided this training and exchange event is pointless, I’m quitting instantly,” Kugisaki mentioned.

“Same here,” Fushiguro commented, causing you to kick both of them on the back much to their surprise.

“So you drags make me do this event, only for you to dip when it’s pointless for you, besides I heard there are some interesting sorcerers in the Kyoto side, so prepare yourselves,” you stated before stepping down the few steps you were in front of before standing between them.

“Well, people this cocky are all more worthwhile to train,” Panda mentioned with his arms folded with a determined look on his face.

“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki said in a softer tone.

Looking up to the sky, you couldn’t help but brisk in the sunlight that was shining lightly down upon you, leading you to raise your hand over your face in order to not be blinded.

‘I wonder how I’m going to hide from this one now?’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[alj4890]

Hello dear! I have an ask I just recently read TRH book 1 what if we get Liams POV when Riley goes into labor and when he has to make that awful decision. What are his thoughts when Riley passes out and there’s no doctor? Maybe we can find out how they got the door open?

I replayed TRH book 1 & 2 recently, so this ask couldn't have come at a better time 😂. I wonder though if anyone else thinks it was odd that Godfrey was put in charge of installing new security at the Palace. I mean, why wasn't Liam and his King's Guards handling that? I don't know, but those chapters of Riley giving birth are some that hurt me, and only because the poor woman is denied an epidural 😂 I would have Godfrey strung up by his thumbs for causing that and allow Olivia to torture him to her heart's content. But enough of my revenge ideas, let's see what I can do with this for you.

@gkittylove99 ​ @krsnlove ​ @kingliam2019 ​ @texaskitten30 ​ @yourmajesty09 ​ @mom2000aggie ​ @ofpixelsandscribbles ​ @twinkleallnight ​ @lodberg ​  @amandablink ​ @neotericthemis ​  @mm2305 ​ @sfb123 ​ @iufilms​

Masterlist

The Decision

It was too much to comprehend.

One moment, Liam was confronting the man who killed his mother and the next was nothing but chaos and darkness.

Screams rent the air as flashing red lights revealed steel enforced doors dropping down over the ballroom's doors and windows.

Liam knelt beside his wife when he realized she had been knocked down by a panicking guest.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Only my pride." She tried to smile but a painful tightening around her middle struck.

Her eyes widened when she felt a wetness between her legs.

"Liam!" She gripped his arm. "My water broke!"

"What?" He searched through the crowd for their friends. "Now?"

She nodded while breathing through another contraction. "We have to get to the hospital."

"We will." He helped her up. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable while we get a door open."

"Liam!" Riley doubled over. "I don't want to have our baby in a ballroom filled with people."

"Is there a problem?"

The couple stiffened when they heard Isabella's voice. Her husband Bradshaw smiled at them.

"Our guards would be more than happy to help with the door situation," his smile held a hint of smugness, "as long as your child is betrothed to one of our twins."

Olivia arrived at that moment followed by their other friends.

"Are you saying your guards won't help rescue you without a betrothal?"

"We're in no immediate danger." Bradshaw explained.

"In fact, we're quite comfortable waiting for your pitiful little guards to find a way out." Isabelle added. "No need for us to cross international lines and damage delicate feelings with our more than capable personnel."

"Delicate!" Olivia heaved a deep breath. "We don't need your help to get out of this."

"We don't?" Maxwell asked. He let out an oomph when Olivia elbowed him. "I mean, yeah we don't! This isn't the first time we have been faced with a challenge."

"No steel door will ever convince us that their baby should be forced to be with one of your twins." Drake added.

Olivia beamed at him before turning her fury on the visiting monarchs. "I'll have it opened in no time."

"Yeah!" Maxwell cheered. "Go Nevarkis Ingenuity!"

She rolled her eyes while going to examine the metal door that covered the double doors into the ballroom.

"Oh!" Riley eased back down into a chair. She raised her eyes to Liam's. "They're getting stronger."

He gently rubbed her back. "Have you had any pains this evening?"

"It was all in my back. I thought it was from being on my feet most of the night." She took deep breaths to calm down. "But now--"

The flashing red lights and alarm stopped. The couple turned to see a proud Olivia slip a strange looking quartz bladed dagger back into a garter under her dress.

There was a square shaped hole cut within the wall with numerous wires exposed.

"That's going to be difficult to repair." Maxwell muttered.

Liam could not have cared less about the damage. If Olivia wanted to tunnel underground to get them out, then he would gladly rip up the marble tiles himself.

Riley cried out as a strong contraction struck.

"I need a distraction!" She puffed through the pain.

"How about some music?" Hana asked. "I composed a new piece recently."

"Or we could sing." Maxwell offered. "Any song you'd like."

"We could?" Drake shook his head. "Sorry Brooks, but that's not happening."

"You would deny her a song when she's in labor?" Maxwell's jaw dropped.

"I doubt our singing would help her any." Drake replied. "Might even double her pain."

While his friends bickered, Liam found his thoughts drifting back to the secret chamber they had unearthed less than an hour ago. He slipped his hand into his breast pocket to touch the letter he had discovered.

His mother's words about how much joy he had brought her echoed in his heart. He wished she could have lived to see the type of man he had become. He had tried with everything within him to live up to her expectations. Would she have noticed? What would she think of him as king now? What would her opinion have been on this choice he and Riley were given for an arranged marriage for her grandchild? Would she approve of them wanting to give their baby the right to choose his or her own spouse?

He wished he knew. He wished she was here guiding him in not only capturing her killer but in also knowing what to do for his wife and unborn child. He would have given anything to have her wise counsel once more.

"Hana!" Riley yelled to stop the argument between her three friends. "Please play whatever you like." She glared at Drake. "Someone's voice is getting on my nerves."

Hana hurried over to a piano and began to play a soothing song.

"I'm going to check on the door situation." Liam pressed a kiss to Riley's cheek. "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Hurry, please." She pleaded.

"I'll watch over her." Maxwell promised.

"I'll go check on the door with you." Drake added.

Liam made his way through the crowd, pausing here and there to reassure everyone that they would be out soon.

"Give me a boost." Olivia ordered.

Drake squatted down and linked his fingers together.

Olivia slipped her heels off and placed her foot in his grasp.

"One...two..." He heaved her up in the air, "three!"

Olivia steadied herself and quickly studied the mechanism that had allowed the door to drop. A lock had formed thus causing them to be unable to lift it up.

After poking and prodding with one of her stilettoes, she noticed the thin metal holding the lock in place.

"Bring me down." She ordered.

Drake grunted as he brought her back down. "Next time, stand on my shoulders."

"Did you figure out how to get it open?" Liam asked.

"I think I might be able to weaken the lock with heat and one of my daggers. Once we destroy that, we should be able to lift it." She explained.

"Can't we hotwire it?' Drake asked, gesturing toward the exposed wires.

"Not since I had to cut so many to get the alarms to turn off." She remarked. "I wouldn't be surprised if there is some emergency failsafe in place for an enemy's attack on the wiring. It might even drop another door on us."

Liam ran his hands over his face. "Do whatever you can to get us out of here."

"Good." Olivia nodded towards the bar. "Drake, we will start with the brandy to use for fuel."

Liam shook his head at her plan to start a fire of sorts. He hoped she didn't end up hurting herself in the process. Honestly though, he couldn't seem to focus on what he could do to help get the doors open.

"Your majesty! I don't think I can breathe in here another second!" Penelope grasped his arm while hyperventilating. "I don't do well in enclosed spaces."

"When will we get out of here?" Another noble demanded.

Questions began to be thrown at him as the crowd closed in a circle, trapping him directly in the middle.

"Is Olivia trying to burn us up in here?"

"We're going to die!"

"What are the guards doing to save us?"

"Auvernal's guards will have us out in minutes, if your king agrees." Bradshaw yelled out over the crowd. His smile was the final straw to break Liam's barely restrained temper.

"Enough!" Liam roared. "We are not going to die in here. The guards are doing all they can and Olivia is graciously assisting." His eyes zeroed in on Penelope. "Go sit down to try and calm your breathing. You're in the same ballroom you have danced in for years." He then turned to Auvernal's king. "As for your assistance, it isn't needed at this time."

Bradshaw shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, but his eyes held a deep seeded anger as he looked upon Liam. "If you think your guests wouldn't prefer to get out of here as quickly as they can, then I suppose there is little we can do."

Murmurs rose once more around him. Liam clinched his fists then pushed his way through when he heard Riley call out for him.

Will this night never end?

It was becoming too much for him. The whining of his people, his wife in pain and in need of medical care, his own innate need to chase after Godfrey and make him pay for poisoning his mother...he needed it all to stop for a minute to allow him to think.

"Liam!" Riley had tears falling down her cheeks. "We need to go to the hospital now!"

She gripped his hand as Hana finished the last few notes to her song.

He knelt before her chair. "Olivia has found a way to open the door. We'll soon have you out of here and--"

The sound of metal screeching had everyone turning toward the double doors.

Seeing the steel door go up caused Liam to scoop his wife in his arms and rush toward the exit.

Their friends and guests spilled out after them to only stop short.

Godfrey had installed these same safety measures on every window and exterior door along the first floor.

"Liam?" Riley puffed through another contraction. "What are we going to do?"

"I found a way out of there." Olivia boasted. "I'm certain I can--"

Bradshaw clucked his tongue. "This isn't the same type of door, your grace." He smirked at her. He knocked against the thicker steel door. "My guards could find a way outside to open it, but only if you sign this."

He produced a betrothal contract.

Riley whimpered as she looked at it and then her husband.

"Get. That. Out. Of. My. Face." Liam ordered.

He turned on his heel to take his wife upstairs to their chambers. Once he reached the first step he spoke over his shoulder. "Olivia, we trust you to handle this. Hana, please call Riley's doctor and ask her to meet us here instead of the hospital."

***************

The hours dragged on as they waited. Olivia appeared periodically to vent her frustrations with getting the door to open. Drake, Maxwell, and Hana attempted to keep Riley's spirits up as she endured the ever increasing contractions.

Liam felt absolutely useless. He didn't know what to do to help his wife. He didn't know the first thing of helping a woman give birth. What if there was a complication? What about their child? What if he couldn't clear the baby's airways? What if--"

"Liam?"

He focused on Riley, weakly gripping his hand. "Yes, my love? What can I do?"

"I feel...odd."

Maxwell nudged Liam out of the way to check her blood pressure.

"Where did you find a blood pressure kit?" Drake asked.

"I know it's hard to believe, but Bertrand has high blood pressure." Maxwell winked at his friends. "I can't imagine where his source of stress comes from."

Riley tried to smile at his teasing. She could feel whatever it was pulling her under making every movement feel like it she was wading through quicksand.

Maxwell's smile disappeared. He studied Riley's flushed cheeks and stepped back.

"What is it?" Liam whispered as his friend pulled him away from her bed.

"Her blood pressure is really high right now." Maxwell glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know if that's normal for a woman in labor, but I do know that this is when I would be calling an ambulance if it was Bertrand with this reading."

Liam rubbed his hands over his face. This entire night was one nightmare after another.

"Riley?" Hana shook her by the shoulders. "Riley?!"

Liam rushed back to the bed to see his wife passed out. He took a cold rag and wiped her face, hoping it would bring her back to them.

"Riley?" His voice cracked. "Please, wake up." He looked around at their friends. "What should I do?"

"I don't know." Drake draped his arm along Hana's shoulders when she began to softly cry.

"Keep talking to her." Maxwell jogged out the room. "I'll see about the door!"

Liam turned back toward Riley. He placed his hand on her stomach and could feel the tightening of contractions along with the faint movements of their child.

Riley opened her eyes.

Liam gently cupped her cheek.

"What happened?" She asked.

"You blacked out." He explained. "Your blood pressure--"

Maxwell returned with a frustrated Olivia.

"...short of dynamite, I don't know how I'll--" she stilled when she saw the color drain from Riley's face.

"I think it's happening..." Riley became unconscious once more. Her head dropped back on the pillows.

"We have to get that doctor here now." Liam looked up at Hana. "Any word from her?"

"She is right outside." Hana explained. "And so are Auvernal's guards."

Liam took off out of the room. His long, deliberate strides had him at the balcony overlooking the entryway where the Auvernal monarchs stood talking to some of the guests.

His friends had to nearly run to catch up with him.

Bradshaw looked up and curved his lips. "Trouble, King Liam?"

Isabella snickered. "I hope Queen Riley isn't suffering unnecessarily."

Liam launched himself at the smug king when he brought up the severe pain Riley must be in at this moment.

Shouts from his friends, guests, and the King's Guards drowned out him telling Auvernal's monarch to have his guards break down the door.

"No." Bradshaw's easy smile grew into an evil smirk. "I don't see any reason to have my men do anything like that to help a woman who isn't a part of my country nor one who wishes to ally herself with mine."

"You bastard!" Liam jerked his arm back. His fist formed as he prepared to beat this man within an inch of his life for denying his Riley a doctor.

It took Drake, Maxwell, and Bastien to hold him back from starting a war with Auvernal with a single punch. Olivia and Hana got between the two kings while Isabella merely looked on in glee.

"My wife and child are going to die if I don't get that doctor in here now!" Liam shouted. "And you stand there refusing to--"

"Not refusing!" Bradshaw snapped. "I'm trying to help you." He snapped his fingers and was handed the engagement contract by a nearby Auvernal guard. "Sign this and my men will have your doctor in here within five minutes."

Liam felt all the adrenaline that had rushed through his veins when he tried to punch the man leave his body. He felt not only weak but utterly worthless. He couldn't see any way out of this. He couldn't lose his wife. He couldn't lose the child they had eagerly waited for.

He couldn't get the damn door open without the very people he had grown to loathe these past nine months.

"Liam," Olivia whispered, "it's the only option we have now."

"We'll find a way to break it." Maxwell whispered.

"Yeah," Drake patted his shoulder. "Right now, you need to just accept the deal to get Brooks and the baby some help."

Liam glanced over at Hana to get her advice.

Tears filled her eyes. "I--I know this isn't what you want, but we have no choice."

Liam swallowed and snatched the paper from Bradshaw's hand. He signed the cursed document and tossed it in his face.

"There! Now get that doctor in here before it becomes null and void."

Bradshaw quickly gave the orders for his guards outside to break down the door with a battering ram.

In three minutes, Dr. Ramirez was following Liam up to the royal chambers.

She helped rouse Riley and then guided her through the delivery.

Liam watched in awe as his wife produced the most perfect baby girl he had ever seen.

Tears of joy and immense relief trickled down his cheeks as he held his daughter for the first time.

"I think we should name her Eleanor," Riley said, watching him kiss their little one's forehead, "in honor of your mother."

His eyes practically glowed as he looked upon his wife. "Thank you, my love."

She snuggled her head on his shoulder as they both gazed down at their own miracle.

Liam knew he needed to tell Riley what had happened with Auvernal yet he didn't want to ruin this first moment of them as a family.

He silently vowed as he held his daughter that he would somehow find a way to save her from an arranged marriage.

[ask-pakistan]

Mama’s little boy.

A little Drabble under the cut lol.

It was hard for him to breathe, it ached everywhere. He couldn’t move. His throat burned, head was spinning.  He couldn’t remember where he was, or why it had gotten so dark so soon.The pain had hit him so intensely he’d lost all his balance and tripped over a few stones, landing face-first into sand. He could feel his muscles spasming under his skin.

It must’ve been one of those times..

He wasn’t able to recall where he fell, or how long he had been lying there. Something he did know was that the pain wasn’t going to get any better any time soon. It was only getting worser.

Distantly, he could make out the vague sounds of people screaming, metals clanking. Men roaring. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all because he knew. He knew when they screamed like that people die.

He whimpered.

He wanted to get away. He wanted to escape. Those people scared him. They were hurting the villagers and they were going to hurt him too and--

Just then, a gentle hand pressed onto his back. A strange sense of relief washed over Umer. He felt someone softly rubbing circles on the sides of back.

“Do not worry child, i am here for you.” spoke the voice of a woman.

 He couldn’t tell if this was real or the pain had worsened to the point he was starting to hallucinate things. But this was welcome. He was starting to lose consciousness anyway.

The woman carefully dragged him into a warm embrace. His sore little muscles complied to her actions. Her presence seem to calm his nerves. He felt a kiss his temple, “I’ll stay by your side for the night, little boy.”

The sound of carnage were growing distant.

He was content with that.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alright so i must inform you, i am not the best at English, neither am i a good writer. But i wanted to write something with Baby Umer and IVC anyway. Q__Q This is my first time writing something somewhat seriously. I’m sorry if this was cringe but i tried my best lol.

Englishhh isn’t my only language lol

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some Headcanons:

Umer has dreamt of IVC long before her ruins were discovered in the 1900s. He knew of her presence in a strange innate way, but didn’t know how credible this feeling was. Growing up, he thought he might’ve conjured up the figure of this woman to cope with his sense of loneliness and grief. That was until he visited the ruins of her civilization himself, was when he realized he recognized this place from his dreams. 

I think it would be a fun concept to have the Ancients appear in the dreams of their descendants once in a while lol Now whether their descendants believe they’re real or not is entirely subjective but i think a concept like that would be sweet. I think the link of IVC to Pakistan is kinda deep, in the sense that IVC has ancient sites in nearly all provinces of Pakistan. And Pakistan roughly constitutes the entire region which was once IVC’s territories. 

Growing up, Umer felt like a outcast. Not because of his apparent case of not aging (as compared to humans), but also because he didn’t really fit into a category of what he represented. He had no sense of being a proper “Nation” till very later on. He had seen empires and their personifications running amok with such pride and spirit, like they had it all figured out. I guess Umer kinda envied that. He just needed to find a place of his own.

[mandalorewhore]

Choices We Make

gif by @darksber

PART 3 OF MOMENTS IN-BETWEEN

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1.6 AO3 link

Content: actual angst, fluff, bonding, found family, kid things, developing feelings for grogu, din is WORRIED

Summary:  Soft moments between Din and Grogu that the audience does not get to see In-between episodes, scenes, and seasons.  

A/N: ive never made myself cry from writing before now, also childcare experience come thru

***

Its small body drawing in on itself. The deep frown that marred its face. The trembles that wracked its body when it laid its eyes on the Stormtroopers. The cry of dismay when the doctor led the child away.

This is what repeats in Din’s mind. For hours on end he is tormented by these images, a painful cacophony of regret that plays on loop in his mind with no respite, no room to think, to breathe. He wants to run, to get away from this place, the stage that houses his sin. 

The further, the better.

Din knows how to move on. He knows how to bury his emotions and focus on the future, because he knows innately that one cannot change the past once the consequences of choice are set in motion. The Way says no take-backs so it’s time to move on. That is why he chose the nobleman's son; high-reward and a long search is just what he needs to keep his mind off the child. Din will take every distraction necessary to forget the child.

If only he weren’t reminded of it at every turn. He sees it in the small lizards that swarm the volcanic rocks, the glossy obsidian that nearly captures the tone of its eyes, the switches in the cockpit, the ball lever it desperately tried to play with. Din is teetering on the precipice of a decision, one with an option that becomes clearer to him at every passing second. He can’t leave the kid. He would never be able to move on, not this time. 

As he slowly screws the ball back onto its lever he realizes that he never had a choice in the first place. 

------------------------------------------

 He found it. He has the baby. He has the baby with him and he can finally breathe.

It- No, he seems unharmed after the ordeal he went through. Playful even. The doctor claimed to have kept him alive through whatever tests they ran on the kid and it seems he has recovered swiftly. He sits in Dins lap, chewing on the metal ball and occasionally banging it on the edge of the Crests console, giggling at the ringing sound it makes. Din winces at a particularly loud bang the baby manages to produce, the sound resonating in his helmet painfully. His ears still ring from the battle on Nevarro.

For half a second Din considers deafening himself with his helmet settings but he swiftly buries the thought. He just rescued the kid, risked his life for him, and now he considers ignoring him? It isn’t right. He will just deal with the sound for now. 

With the ship moving safely through hyperspace, Din allows himself to relax just slightly. Spinning the pilot seat to face the back of the cockpit, he stands with the child, the little green boy squeaking and laughing at the sudden movement. Din holds the child out in front of him, level with his helmet visor and just… looks at him. The kid is chewing on his metal ball gleefully, only letting it leave his mouth for a second to grin toothily at the Mandalorian. And although the ability to hide his emotions has always been highly valuable for the Mandalorian, this time around Din isn’t sure he’s glad that the helmet hides his smile. 

Maybe the kid would benefit from staying around people who can show their expressions, to give out cues and micromovements for the baby to learn from. Is he denying the child a proper life just by way of his code? Din starts wracking his brain for ways to stimulate the child's senses, to provide the proper amount of diversity in his day to day life so he doesn’t end up underdeveloped. There isn’t much on the Crest currently. He could bring the kid down to the hull and explore his options.

Din recalls that, as a foundling, his people would expose him to different environments both in and out of armor so that he would know what to expect on his journey with the Creed. To see for himself just how well their armor can protect the warriors from merciless sandstorms on desert planets all the way to biting winds in frozen wastelands. It was also a way for the foundlings to say goodbye to these senses. To bid farewell to the normalcy that others take for granted. Din hasn’t felt the kiss of sunshine for decades. 

Suddenly, an idea pops in his head.

“Hey... Hey, kid.” He clears his throat, voice cracking from disuse. He can’t recall the last time he actually spoke on his ship, except to tell off quarries. The foreign sound of conversation bounces off the metal walls with a dissonant echo, as if the Crest itself doesn’t know what to make of it. The baby coos and looks at him, openmouthed and curious. Din still doesn’t know if he can understand Basic, or any language for that matter, but he remembers learning that babies benefit from conversation even before they can speak. 

Hearing is one of the few senses that Din has the privilege of experiencing. He won’t deny the child of it.

“I have an idea for you, kid. Hold on tight.” The Mandalorian makes his way to the cockpit ladder, cradling the kid under one elbow so that he doesn’t get jostled too much in the descent. The child lets out another giggle as Din slides down the ladder, the bounty hunter landing lightly on his feet with a huff. Din sets the baby gently on the floor before crossing the length of the hull to robotically dig around in his storage, tossing useless pieces behind him before he remembers the kid is there. Flinching in alarm at his mindless action, he turns and looks for the baby hoping that he didn’t accidentally hit him with anything. The kid is just sitting where he left him, drooling on his favorite ball. 

Shaking off the uncharacteristic panic, Din turns and continues his search, quickly finding what he was looking for now that the rest of the junk is out of the way. He holds the bulky object gingerly in his arms, making his way over to the kid and placing it carefully on the ground in front of him. 

It’s a lightbox of sorts. A square shape with several settings to control the heat output, brightness, and hue of light. Something that Din uses to warm his skin when free of armor, in order to soak in the necessary vitamins that he is unable to absorb naturally outside the ship. As of now, the kid is transfixed on the object but Din can tell the box wont hold his interest for long, not while he still has access to his ball. Reaching over quickly before he can get distracted, Din messes with a few settings on the box and turns it on. A soft, golden light fills the room and the sound of birdcalls flutter up from the object. Din has never used the sound settings before, finding them frivolous, but he switched it on for the first time so that the baby could hear. 

“That's a Naboo sunset. I set it to a summer's evening.” He tells the kid softly. 

The baby’s large eyes are focused on the light, looking down at himself to see the way it bounces on his green skin. His metal ball falls to the floor with a clang but the baby doesn’t even react, instead twirling his ears and cooing at the noises the box produces. 

Din sits on the floor of his ship and watches the kid. He’s fascinated, trying to take in every detail of the moment, savoring in the way the artificial light reflects in the child's eyes, filling his pupils with a radiant glow. If Din focuses only on the baby he can imagine that there is actually a picturesque Naboo landscape behind him. The kid reacts with the level of enthusiasm he imagines it would show while visiting the actual planet. After a while the kid seems to grow more energetic, attempting to catch patches of artificial sunshine as they bounce around the hull. The little womp-rat even places his hands on the lightbox and starts to violently shake it back and forth like he's trying to break into the virtual world that the box is creating. The image is so ridiculous that Din actually laughs at this, a full, rich sound that bursts from his chest in an almost hysterical explosion of energy. 

Even with all the fear Din holds, all the anxiety from being on the run, his loss of income, the loss of his tribe... Din feels that there is a place inside him that is mending. A hole he never knew existed has begun to stitch together within him, every giggle the child produces is another thread that sews the edges in place. Wherever he goes with this kid... he just hopes he can feel like this more often, no matter where they end up. 

It’s fulfillment, he realizes, finally finding the word for this emotion, showing him happiness… It brings me fulfillment.

The pair sit on the floor for hours, switching through different settings to discover all they can in the limited time they have before they must run. If the choices Din made throughout his life have all built up to this moment, weaving this small picture of the hunter and child… Then Din wouldn’t change a single decision.

[silentprincess17]

Sometimes Things Have To Get Worse Before They Get Better

This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)

Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.

Cue the angst.

This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence) Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink) Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga Trigger warnings for this chapter: Descriptions of blood, wounds and death. Also: there is a spoiler for one of the side quests in AOC (one of the things Link does for Zelda) and it's in the third paragraph before the last one so it's nearly at the end.

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Ambushed

Link ran, sprinting through the sand, his boots coughing up a flurry of grains, sword already pulled out in his hand, pulsing as it recognised his anxiety.

A ball of fear erupted in his chest, and suddenly Link found his mouth dry and unable to swallow. He couldn’t deny it to himself then, it wasn’t just duty that motivated his actions. Hell, this-this need to protect her… It felt like something he’d always done, an innate instinct. Something deeper than his vows as her Knight tied him to her, probably something to do with his past lives, but he didn’t know how to explain it, and really, it scared him, sometimes, this urge that he had little control over. A lot of things scared him about the sword actually, and he wondered just how separate he truly was from it sometimes.

Despite running flat out, he was still a considerable distance away, but even from here, he could tell, it wasn’t looking good. She had run, valiantly, but there were two of them up ahead of her, he couldn’t make out just yet what Yiga Clan member they were, but he could see the Yiga Foot soldier behind her. And crap, she’d slipped and fallen, and Farore, just – just a few more seconds and he’d make it.

Please, please, please.

His heart thundered in his chest; his hands icy cold, clammy around the handle of his sword.

The three Yiga Foot soldiers approached her, okay, okay, this wasn’t good, no, they had Vicious Sickles, but he had the Sword That Seals The Darkness, and what better definition of darkness than the Yiga Clan, he would make it- and

Spirits

Three Yiga Blademaster’s poofed into existence beside the Foot soldiers, and together they slashed their windcleavers, aimed at his Princess’s throat.

NO.

Link jumped, sliced the first Foot Soldier in the chest, blood spurting outwards and he nimbly twisted to avoid it landing on him, and then aimed for the first Blademaster. Just before his blade hit that idiot’s neck, the other two began to laugh. The sickening Yiga Clan laugh that was so incredibly patronising, and Link was already feeling bad enough this morning and he had little patience left.

“Not so fast, Hero.” The Blademaster in the centre clicked his fingers and another three appeared behind the Princess, all of them pointing the tips of their windcleavers at her neck.

Holy Hylia. There were now 5 blades aimed at her, one of them pressed closed enough that she couldn’t swallow without fear of drawing blood. And he couldn’t bring himself to actually look at her, the one glance he’d had would forever scar him, she looked downright petrified. The sight made his blood boil, the sword glowed blue, but he had to be logical.

It wouldn’t do to attack the one whose neck was under his sword only for the other five to behead the Princess. Yes, he was fast. Yes, he was blessed with rapid reflexes. But even he recognised it would be impossible to eliminate all five without one of them harming the Princess before he finished. It would take seconds for them to nick her carotid artery, whilst he needed to slice through five necks. This would have been so much easier if she wasn’t in the middle of the fray. A simple charged sword attack aimed in the air would have exterminated the lot. He also couldn’t help but curse himself because he’d been an idiot and forgotten his bow, he hadn’t picked it up in all the rush of Zelda disappearing and now he severely regretted it. What he wouldn’t have done for a few electric arrows right now. He would have shocked the life out of them with all their metal weaponry.

“There’s too many of us, Hero, with too many swords at the ready to behead this pretty little blond thing. We only really have an issue with her Royal Holiness here, for she supposedly holds the power to seal away our God.” He laughed, “Although she isn’t that Holy, is she, eh boys?”

They all broke out into laughter, and Link decided that was the best opportunity he was going to get. He stabbed the sword into the first Yiga Blademaster’s neck, a fountain of red erupted out, just as Link shoved his body towards one of the remaining Foot Soldiers, who got trapped underneath the sheer dying bulk of the man. He rolled, pulling the Princess down so she was out of direct range of those windcleavers, and then he unceremoniously chucked her towards the opening he’d just created. She seemed to get the message and started to run, whilst he began to dance with his sword.

Move one to the jugular vein, two to the heart plus some ribs, three a large spin attack against the last Foot Soldier and three Blademasters who lunged at him, but he only belatedly realised one of them didn’t have a weapon, had they used the sickle as a boomerang? He distantly felt a muscle spasm, but that didn’t distract him, no, he ploughed through with the movement, effectively plunging the sword through the layers of skin, muscle and fat, and he leapt out of the resulting crimson blood spray that blended in with their armour. He had to admit, even if he wasn’t comfortable with the whole context of the sword and the trauma of seeing everything they had gone through, it was a beautiful blade. The best he’d ever had the honour of wielding.

His focus was shattered, suddenly, as he heard a painfully familiar scream, was it a memory or – no. That was His Zelda. He belatedly realised the last Yiga Foot soldier hadn’t remained trapped. He’d chased after the Princess and he had three darts pressed her abdomen, hard enough that she was whimpering, with his sickle wrapped around her neck, the curved edge milliseconds from ending her life. She had one hand alternating between trying to claw the mask off the Yiga’s face to ineffectively grasping at his hand wielding the sickle, the other outstretched to him, and it broke him a little.

His heart ached, his pulse thundering hard in his ears, because she was too far away for him to jump to her, too far to do anything without a damn bow. The bodies that littered the floor, and the blood that coated the sand around him weren’t enough, the one that remained would kill her, before he could do anything. Of that he had no doubt.

“Lay down your sword. And you may leave with your life. We do not care for the Hero, you’re simply a vessel for the Hero’s spirit and even if we kill you, you’ll just come back in some other lowlife’s body. We only care for the supposedly High Priestess Hylian Princess Zelda and the Sword that Seals the Darkness. Without those two, Hyrule will be blessed by Calamity Ganon’s unbridled power!”

He hesitated, and in that one second another four Yiga Blademasters appeared behind him, “DO NOTHING Hero. Remember what position your darling Princess is in.” The Foot soldier tightened his hold on Zelda and pressed the blade deeper into her skin and it cut into her neck, causing a small line of blood to leak down the blade.

That was the tipping point, Link saw red, and howled, hurling the Master Sword so that it pierced that wretched mask, straight into the bastard’s eye, and swung down with gravity to cut through his face.

And he turned around to face those remaining Yiga Blademaster’s with his bare hands, but instead he smelt the familiar incense of cool saffilina, which rang alarm bells in his head, this was used as a sleeping drought. He couldn’t do much more than gasp before a towel was rammed into his face, and he struggled against it, but suddenly the smell became so much more concentrated. He blinked, trying his hardest not to breathe, but the haze that descended on his mind regardless meant it was far, far more potent than the one he’d made for Zelda.

All of a sudden, he felt disturbingly dizzy, his legs like jelly underneath him. His eyelids abruptly felt incredibly heavy- he closed his eyes almost unwittingly, and then struggled to open them again. He barely managed to open one flimsily, and he saw vague red shapes ensnaring his Princess and all he could do was fall to the floor on his knees, shameful that he’d failed her.

She was screaming his name, and all he could do was raise a pitiful arm out to her, before he succumbed, and all he saw was black.

[chrysalispen]

upon pale dawns, prologue II: ardent for some desperate glory

AO3 Link HERE

=====

Castrum Abania, 9th Sun, Third Umbral Moon, Year 5 of the Seventh Umbral Era

The room was cold and its silence sterile, broken only by the sounds of a dry ticking from the digital wall chronometer and the soft and regular sighs of a sleeping man.

Silence in itself was hardly anything to be remarked upon, let alone a surprise. The research and development floors were always kept clear of unnecessary chatter in favor of the sound and rhythm of industry, small gears turning amidst the well-oiled machine of imperial conquest. Standard procedure, that. Especially when the work that took place away from prying eyes was exacting and often hazardous.

But for several hours, the relative darkness and the ambient cycling of the console's processor had been interspersed only with the low rumble of the central air unit and the rhythmic rattle of footsteps without the corridors, and Nero tol Scaeva had been awake for most of the past thirty hours. He had finally fallen asleep waiting for one of his processes to run and lay half-sprawled over the metal surface of the table: limbs immobile and lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he drowsed at the empty work station he’d appropriated upon his arrival in the lower levels.

When the chiming began, it went unheeded at first. The timer had been set in this instance to ring without cessation, however, and after a few minutes had lapsed the sound began to send him drifting wide from his dreaming state by ilms. The transition from sleeping to wakefulness felt reluctant: heavy and sluggish, a pearl diver kicking against deep currents, breaking the surface tension of consciousness through brute force.

He blinked slowly, once, then twice, attempting to reorient himself.

The noise was also aggravating an incipient headache. Nero righted his posture with a tired grumble and smacked the damned thing until blessed silence reigned once more, before reaching for the mug he had left on a borrowed coaster (long since gone cold. His own fault, he owned). Sipping at its contents with a distasteful grimace - whoever had brewed the coffee, they had added too much water and the result was something weak and listless and far too bitter - he turned his attention towards the old Allagan testing module and its compiling readout.

It appeared to be reaching the end of its cycle. So he thought, until the activity scrolling across the screen flickered in place and pulsed once, twice, an arrythmia within the steady heartbeat of the machine. Nero swore under his breath when on its heels, a brief error message superimposed itself over the readout in black-bordered white. One he’d seen with far too many of these devices recently.

[Unable to read file. The current application will be terminated.]

An annoyed sigh escaped in a hiss between his teeth.

Brow wrinkled in thought, he stared at the screen for a few beats. This was but one of many datalog volumes his team had salvaged at the original site. The initial discovery had excited him - it had excited everyone, in fact, including the legatus - as it well should have done, but getting the godsdamned things to yield the fruit he sought was quickly proving to be an exercise in tedium.

Although Ultima’s original hardware was in surprisingly reasonable working order, several of the tomestones they had found in the same space had not proven to be nearly as resistant to the vagaries of time. Thus far, only a handful had relinquished their secrets without issue or delay. Not entirely unexpected, given their age and the conditions in which they’d been found, but unfortunate all the same.

The tribunus laticlavius of the XIVth Imperial Legion was not a patient man by nature, given to rather more direct methods of approach, but as a man of thirty-four winters with a good fifteen of them spent in the legions, he had very much learned the value of that particular skill. It was one he had developed through years of trial and error and the innate understanding of those traits his chosen craft required.

Magitek was not ineffable. It was parts and pieces that fit together neatly like a puzzle in the absence of human error. To guide and to create with these tools required a methodical mind and observant eye, as well as a certain degree of acceptance that on occasion one simply could not rush the desired results.

This was one such occasion. The end result, of course, would be worth the means. Or so one might fondly hope.  

Nero leaned forward and compressed the small button until the module had powered down and all that was left was the rumbling rattle of the castrum's central air unit (always running this time of year). A gentle tug freed the small tomestone from its moorings and he held it aloft to study the detailing, periwinkle-blue eyes squinting and straining against the red-tinged light from the fluorescents.

The small grooves caught the ambient lighting from the walls with each idle spin between his fingers. They seemed to mock him with each little shimmer: ancient secrets so painfully close to discovery that they lay mere ilms from his grasp. Secrets which promised a long and tedious process if he wished to claim them.

...Well. He’d do it, of course he would. Aught he deemed necessary - good, bad, or ugly - in order to see Project Ultima to completion. Even were it not his primary directive, he had always had every intention of plundering their contents at his leisure for the challenge of it and the knowledge to be had. This was but the least method at his disposal. There were some few other options he might employ, which might serve to successfully extract the data into some readable format that he could put to use.

While the old datalogs were fascinating, he wasn't spending his time reading them for a history lesson. No, what he sought was preliminary information, something upon which to safely extrapolate. Ideally he'd end up with a dossier of sorts which he could use to catalogue the Weapon’s original abilities, and enough code to piece together an operating system more or less analogous to that of Allag, albeit one powered by ceruleum instead of aether. If he could simply-

A much lower-pitched sound than his armor’s onboard timer - not an alarum but a harsh, flat buzz - cut through the quiet of the lab. Nero’s first inclination was to ignore it in favor of his study, but a second followed quickly on its heels, and a third. 

That, unfortunately, meant someone was expecting him to answer.

With a barely suppressed yawn he toggled the small red switch next to the wall’s built-in communications device. “Scaeva. Engineering," he said, keeping his tone clipped and curt- the voice of a man who would brook no disturbances. "State your business.”

The response he received was a very audible swallow followed with a hoarsely uttered, “Lord Scaeva?”

“Speaking."

"My lord?"

Nero sighed. "Speaking. As in 'with whom do I have the pleasure.' Name and rank."

“Oh. Terribly sorry, my lord. I, erm, Quintus pyr Blasio. Lord, uh. Tribunus. Sir.”

Seven hells. Not a name Nero recalled, though he rarely had reason to trouble himself over memorizing the personnel that manned every garrison between Ala Mhigo and the Velodyna fringes. Some poor bastard who was likely the first man flagged down for runner duty by his direct report, no doubt. Some poor bastard who was also either too dazzled or too shit-scared of speaking to the legion's top brass to string three coherent words together. Just what he needed.  

“...Go on,” he prompted when the man said nothing further.

“Lord Sc-”

“I daresay we’ve both established our identities at this juncture," impatience and lingering drowsiness rendered his response a sardonic drawl, for all its erstwhile civility. "The message, if you please.”

“Message, my lord?”

“Yes. The message. That is why you’ve called to interrupt my current litany of scheduled tasks, or so I assume?”

“Ah... y-yes. Yes, my lord.” The speaker at the other end of the connection paused, and on its heels came the sound of a clearing throat. “Ah, Lord van Baelsar asked that I, er, that is, he requests your presence to discuss-”

“He wants me to attend a meeting,” Nero cut in. “When and where?”

“Half four, my lord. Ah- in Sector VI. The administrative complex south of the new hangar.”

Half four- it was five minutes past now. With the identification checks and elevators taken into account, that gave him about ten minutes' leeway. The timing would be somewhat tight to work in, perhaps, but it was perfectly feasible.

The man’s nervous, ragged breathing crackled across the link; the only other sound was the flat drumming of Nero’s fingertips upon the metal surface as he mentally rearranged the next hour he’d dedicated to other tasks. It was an inconvenience to be certain. He was going to have to run the process once more after some adjustments were made, and clearly, it would need closer supervision. Meaning the sleep he knew he needed was not going to be an option.

But this summons still amounted to an order, and hardly one he could disregard or countermand. Heavily classified weapon project or no.

“Understood," he said at last. "Inform the legatus that I will be along presently."

"I will, Lord tol Scaeva. I-"

"In future, do make some bare attempt at brevity when delivering messages, tessarius- for your own sake.”

Another gulp. “Of course, my lord. I’ll pass alo--”

Before the hapless soldier could waste more of his time stammering out another response, the tribunus laticlavius flipped the switch and cut the connection. The line went dead with a static click.

Nero was a practical man, one rarely wont to let trivial annoyances linger. As he set the artifact aside to reach for the fountain pen at his elbow and drew a small leather-bound planner from the desk drawer, a habit he’d kept since his Academy days, he could already feel his focus shifting, moving onwards.

He rolled the pen thoughtfully betwixt index and middle fingers, eyes flickering away from the planner to linger briefly upon the blank console screen. No doubt there was also more useful information to be ascertained from the old Meteor Project dossier; he’d request another copy of the relevant files through the proper channels once the meeting concluded.

In the meantime, it seemed a progress report was likely to be expected upon his timely - and fully conscious - arrival. Strict self-imposed schedule notwithstanding, it wouldn’t do for him to be the only one empty-handed.

He flipped the notebook open to a fresh and empty page, tilted the ink nub, and began to write.

[sceptilemasterr]

Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 1, Scene 10 - New Routine

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Fiora and her friends settle into their routine as Penderghast students.

Previous Scene: Theory and Practice

Masterlist: Link

INT. PENDERGHAST CAMPUS - VARIOUS LOCATIONS - DAY

MONTAGE

Some time later, Fiora and her friends sit in Dr. Religast’s Stoicheal Theory course once again. Dr. Religast points to a diagram of a human body with an illuminated elemental symbol in the center of it.

DR. RELIGAST: ...as stoichi is innate in all things, so too is it innate within ourselves. Innate stoichi can be divided into three base components. Can anyone describe these for me?

Beckett’s hand launches up as usual, but Fiora is only half paying attention. Shreya whispers something in her ear, and the two of them giggle...

* * *

In the same auditorium, another professor named DR. RALLAH teaches History of Attuned Society. She is an older woman with a severe face and a flat, droning voice. Fiora practices with a small votive candle beneath her desk, trying to coax the flame out toward her hand.

DR. RALLAH: ...during this time Attuned still lived side-by-side with Attuneless societies in the Archikial Realm. While the two groups had known of each other’s existence prior to this, they largely kept to themselves; Attuned kept to themselves in scattered, small societies separated by Attunement. This changed during and after the Second Thunder War, in which several Fire-Attuneds played a pivotal role. One of them would go on to become King-Consort Dominic Rys of Cordonia, ushering in an era of Attuned-Attuneless cooperation and peace...

Zeph has fallen asleep, drooling on his desk. Shreya watches Fiora’s practice attempts with rapt attention, ignoring the professor completely. Even Beckett is beginning to look bored, his note-taking becoming slower and slower...

* * *

In Dr. Englund’s ASTP class, Fiora and the others stand in groups of two, using their Attunements to form shapes with large sources of their respective elements. At one point, while she and Shreya are attempting to shape their campfire into a floating rectangle, she briefly loses control and the flame starts to expand.

DR. ENGLUND: Ms. Luxen!

ZEPH: On it!

Zeph rushes to the scene, dragging the water from his own assignment over his head. Beckett sprints toward Fiora as well, forming his block of metal into a large blanket that he drapes over part of the fire, while Zeph douses the remainder with his water. The two of them look at each other and smile.

BECKETT: Well done. Zephyr, was it?

ZEPH: Call me Zeph. And you did a nice job, yourself!

DR. ENGLUND: Right then. Back to your assignment, all of you.

Fiora blushes, then shrugs as Dr. Englund produces a second campfire, already lit, and places it in front of them.

DR. ENGLUND: ...I have three more of these on standby just in case, Ms. Luxen.

* * *

Outside on the quad, near a patch of forest, Dr. Kontos teaches Natural Studies. The class, divided up by Attunement, watches as he brings out several crates full of tiny creatures known as Attuned Companions.

DR. KONTOS: A Companion is more than a pet. They are your friend, your ally... and also your greatest strength, if you give them the love, care, and effort that they deserve. Remember this well, all of you. We will be tracking your progress with your Companions as the class progresses.

He passes out creatures to the class: Zeph and the other Water-Atts get small, blue, fox-like creatures called Arylus. Fiora, Shreya, and the other Fire-Atts get tiny flying dragons called Lumians. Beckett and the Metal-Atts get orangish-silver froglike Companions called Gorgues. Beckett looks down at his Companion with confusion. The Gorgue croaks at him.

BECKETT: What am I supposed to do with this?

DR. KONTOS: You raise him. Raise him well, Mr. Harrington.

BECKETT: Right. Naturally, sir. My apologies.

Fiora squeals and hugs her Lumian tightly.

FIORA: Okay, this thing is cute and awesome all at the same time. I am so naming him ‘Dracarys!’

Shreya stares at her in confusion.

SHREYA: ...Does that mean something?

FIORA: Wait, don’t tell me you’ve never seen-- oh, right, duh. Never mind. Anyway, hi, Dracarys!

Dracarys lets out a high-pitched roar, with a tiny tuft of flame emerging from his mouth when he does so. Shreya’s own Lumian floats over to Dracarys and the two start flying around one another.

SHREYA: Aww, they like each other! Well, I’m going to name mine ‘Rys.’

FIORA: Okay, now it’s my turn to ask why.

SHREYA: Rys! You know, as in the famous Tuneless queen who was the first to unify Attuned and Tuneless? Kenna Rys? ...Please, I’m sure Dr. Rallah must’ve mentioned her at some point in class!

FIORA: You’re telling me you actually pay attention in that class?

SHREYA (laughs): ...Okay, no. I read a novel about them when I was growing up, that’s all.

FIORA: Alright, that makes way more sense.

SHREYA: Come here, Rys! That’s a good girl!

She hugs Rys, who snuggles happily into her arms as Dracarys perches on Fiora’s shoulder.

FIORA: Best. Class. Ever!

* * *

Weeks pass by, and Fiora and her friends are once again in Stoicheal Theory class.

DR. RELIGAST: ...Those who have Primal Attunements are especially rare. 99 percent of all known Attuned have Base Attunements; the vast majority of those capable of utilizing Primal Forces have achieved this feat over time, rather than being born Attuned to a Primal Force. Now, the differences between...

Fiora takes some notes in between practicing with her candle under the desk, making the flame dance and form letters as Shreya does the same beside her. They spell their own names, then each other’s. Then Zeph whispers something in Shreya’s ear, and Shreya uses her flame to spell out “Bucket Harrington.” The three of them laugh quietly, and Beckett turns to see what they were all laughing at. He frowns.

BECKETT: How juvenile. ‘Bucket Harrington,’ as if...

But as Beckett turns back to focus on Dr. Religast, a faint smile forms on his face.

* * *

Beckett sits cross-legged on the grass outside as his Grogue sits on his head, croaking happily as he spits metal pebbles at insects buzzing nearby. Each time he scores a hit, he laps up the fallen insect with his tongue.

BECKETT: Grogue, would you please stop that racket?

BECKETT’S GROGUE: Ribbit!

ZEPH: Good boy! Ishi, come here!

Zeph claps, and his Arylu, ISHI, bounds happily over to him. He scratches the creature behind his ears.

ISHI: Ruff! Ruff!

Shreya and Fiora sit side-by-side, their Lumians flying around their heads as they feed them bits of raw meat, which the creatures cook with their flame breath before eating. Several nymphs and satyrs are scattered throughout the class, assisting some of the students; Aster is working with Shreya and Fiora and their Companions. Dr. Kontos walks through the group, looking down at each Attuned and their respective Companion in turn. He smiles at all of them until he gets to Beckett, then frowns.

DR. KONTOS: Mr. Harrington, I can’t help but notice you don’t seem to be applying yourself very well to this assignment. I was under the impression from your records that I could expect more from you.

BECKETT (defensively): I--

He looks down at the ground, suddenly embarrassed.

BECKETT: Yes, sir. I will try to do better in the future.

DR. KONTOS: See that you do.

Dr. Kontos walks away, and Beckett lifts his Grogue off his head and looks at him. The Grogue croaks back, then spits an iron pebble at Beckett’s forehead.

BECKETT: Heavens... what am I supposed to do with you, Grogue?

FIORA: You could start by giving him a name, y’know. Just saying. Isn’t that right, Dracarys?

She pats Dracarys on top of his head. The Lumian snorts contentedly.

BECKETT (bewildered): A name?

* * *

Dr. Rallah gives another lecture in History of Attuned Society. As Shreya and Zeph amuse themselves by manipulating a candle and a dish of water respectively, in a sort of element “duel,” Fiora peers over at Beckett’s notes. The camera follows her gaze to reveal that the notes devolve into barely-legible scribbles, then stop abruptly... as Beckett has fallen asleep. Fiora looks over at Shreya and mouths, ‘Wow.’ Shreya giggles.

ZEPH (whispering): Ha! Got you when you were distracted! I win again!

SHREYA (whispering): Oh, no you don’t. Best three out of five?

ZEPH (whispering): You’re on!

Oblivious to how little attention she is receiving from any of her students, Dr. Rallah drones on:

DR. RALLAH: ...and the Council made the decision for all of Attuned society to retreat into the Stoicheal Realm for safety. On September 9th, 1621, this decision was carried out on what we now know as the first Separation Day. Shortly thereafter, Attuned leaders engaged in a widespread campaign to eliminate any and all signs of Attuned presence in Attuneless society. This was largely successful, and by January 27th, 1623, it was decided...

* * *

DR. ENGLUND: Drawing out your own innate stoicheal energy into an external creation is more difficult than manipulating existing elements, so do not feel upset if you have trouble doing it at first. We have three weeks in which to practice this, after all!

Shreya and Fiora stand across from one another, their hands held in front of their chests as they concentrate. Dr. Englund walks past them, nodding, then continues on to Beckett, who holds his palm outstretched. A tiny film of metal has begun to form along one of his palm creases. Dr. Englund smiles approvingly.

DR. ENGLUND: A great first step, Mr. Harrington. But that doesn’t quite look like a sphere three inches across, so you’ve got a bit more work to do yet. Keep at it!

Beckett frowns as Dr. Englund walks away. Fiora gives him a look.

FIORA: Can’t win ‘em all, huh, Bucket?

BECKETT: I’ll have you know--

SHREYA: Oh! I’ve got it!

Shreya leaps excitedly as a small ball of flame coalesces between her palms. It hovers for a moment, then crashes to the ground, catching a nearby table on fire. Within a few seconds, Zeph is already there, launching a stream of water at the fire and putting it out.

ZEPH: Zeph’s Fire Control is on the scene! Wait-- Shreya?! Not Fiora? Whoa, plot twist!

He laughs, and a moment later, Shreya and Fiora join in as well... And then, surprisingly, so does Beckett.

ZEPH: Yes! Beckett, you actually laughed! I can’t believe it!

BECKETT: Well, you know, I do have a sense of humor. And it was indeed unexpected- and thus, amusing- to see Shreya being the cause of a fire accident rather than the usual culprit, since if--

ZEPH: Shh! No, no, no. Never explain a joke. It ruins it.

BECKETT: But I--

ZEPH: Just enjoy the moment! Trust me.

Reluctantly, Beckett smiles.

BECKETT: ‘Enjoy the moment.’ Yes, I suppose I can do that.

Zeph, Fiora, Shreya, and Beckett smile at one another before Beckett extends a hand to the three of them in turn, and they all shake hands.

BECKETT: Now then. Perhaps we can work together on this assignment?

SHREYA: I’d love to. Welcome to the club, Beckett!

BECKETT: ...What ‘club?’

ZEPH: The ‘Pend Pals,’ of course! Oh, and that reminds me, we’ve gotta introduce you to Griffin later. Officially, I mean.

BECKETT (muttering): ‘Pend Pals?’ Just what have I gotten myself into...?

END MONTAGE

_______________________

Scene Notes: I love writing montages; they’re fun! A little bit of worldbuilding stuff did get dropped here, so:

Attuned history! And yes, I did connect it with a familiar Choices book. Sometimes these crossovers just write themselves. As a result, this means at some point, Attuned (or at least Fire-Atts) were known to Tuneless society; Dr. Rallah’s second lecture describes when they went into hiding. (And yes, Dr. Rallah is one of those teachers who could, believe it or not, make even the events of TC&TF sound boring.)

Also, we finally get to see the Companions! Here there are only the three you’re familiar with from canon, but yes, each Attunement has its own species of Companion they’re assigned to. Lumians for Fire, Arylus for Water, and Grogues for Metal... the others will appear soon enough!

Timeline: Yes, we’re still inside the ES time jump. Specifically, Fiora’s first day of class was 8/13; this montage stretches for about three months, from 8/14 to 11/22. The Catalysts aren’t quite back from their time trip yet... but both Most Wanted end-credits scenes occur on 8/14, at the start of this montage.

_______________________

Next: The Girl in the Mirror

CIU Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn @endlesshero1122 @bbaba-yagaa @acidsugar0 @shaylan211 @griselda1121 @acanthisorbis @marmolady

DotF/Elementalists Tag List:

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

The OTHER Members of Eve’s Coven

Me and @lilmissrantsypants couldn’t fit all the coven in as cameos in chapter 3, so here’s a rundown on the members who didn’t make an appearance. I added some of the stuff that inspired us into making the characters, My wife just went crazy with descriptions for her characters.

Aleister & Tantomile Deering: A pair of twins who were orphaned during WWII. They had to scrape by to survive, with Tantomile whoring herself out for drug money. They were turned when Aleister begged for help as his sister was overdosing. They were plagued by psychic visions as mortals, their powers awakening fully when they were turned. They are practically inseperable nowadays.

Power: Aleister and Tantomile have innate psychic abilities, activated by touching someone. Tantomile can see into a person’s past, while Aleister can see multiple outcomes the future could hold and then latch on to the most likely scenario. Their vampiric power is a twin link that allows them to experience the emotions the other one does, as well as keep them connected.

Inspiration: The psychic cat twins Tantomile and Coripocat from Cats 

My wife came up with the basic concept and we workshopped them together from there; it’s a joint effort. She does Tantomile, I do Aleister.

Bartholomew Comstock: An overly aggressive puritan who was despised by his fellow townsfolk, he was banished from his New England home and forced to start a farm on his own. He nearly perished in the winter before Eve turned him. His hatred at being a disgusting, demonic creature such as a vampire is only ameliorated by his knowledge that Eve, having once been the angel Samael, ‘confirms’ his beliefs and allows him to eternally punish those he views as sinners.

Power: He believes his power gives him great strength against sinners, allowing him to inflict pain upon those who have done foul deeds. In truth, it is actually his own sins that give him strength, though his power does weaken as he exerts himself or runs low on blood (he cannot become unstoppably powerful).

Inspiration: The dad from The VVitch

Beatrix Cullen: Beatrix Cullen was a happy woman once, a skilled seamstress in the 1950s who simply loved the act of creation. She had an adoring boyfriend, and the two were set to be married, with Beatrix making a gorgeous wedding dress for her special day. But on that day, her groom never arrived, as he had been killed in a car accident on the way. Stricken by grief, Beatrix was easily convinced by Eve to join her coven, with the promise that perhaps her power could help her bring her husband back some day...

Power: Beatrix can imbue any object such as a sculpture or statue with life, essentially making golems without a magic scroll. Her most trusted golem is her mannequin, Manny, who often tries to steal her wedding dress. Her ultimate goal is to use her natural skills and her power to bring her husband back to life, stitching a Frankenstein monster of him and pieces of sleazy men who hit on her into a perfect flesh golem.

Inspirations: The bride from the Haunted Mansion, Kill Bill, Frankenstein, that one Tumblr post about 50s housewives fighting zombies with chainsaws, La Pascualita, Pegasus from Yu-Gi-Oh

Blanche Atterton: Daughter of Lady Drusilla Atterton, she grew up wanting nothing more than her mother’s love, though her mother was often far too preoccupied with “other things” (which she later learned was all of her plotting and planning to ensure her riches).When given the choice for vampirism, she excitedly vowed her loyalty to her mother and Eve. As she was only 15 at the time and children would not survive the turning, her mother waited until she turned 21 before turning her.Blanche does everything for her mother’s attention and love. She doesn’t hesitate to do her bidding in hopes of her mother praising her for it. She’s misguided, not evil, though her mother’s praise has given her a superiority complex and she’s a bit of a narcissist.

Power:  Blanche’s power gives her a powerful, painful scream. Those within 5 feet of her screaming will suffer from temporary deafness for 5 minutes. Whether they fall deaf or not, bleeding from the ears is very common, especially among mortals.

Inspiration: Drizella from Cinerella

Dee Comporre: Giorgio Nero’s faithful, somewhat obsessed bodyguard. She quite obviously has a crush on him due to her hatred of any woman who so much as interacts with Giorgio, though Giorgio just sees her as being a bit overprotective. She has a shaved head, and paints her face to look like a skull.

Power: She can secrete and spit a powerful corrosive acid that can melt through even metal.

Inspirations: D’Compose from InHumanoids

Dorian Ferris: A serial killer known as “The Ferryman,” who always leaves coins over his victim’s eyes. As a mortal, he had far too many close calls, and was nearly caught several times, particularly during a bout in a town back in 1999. He tends to target wicked people such as domestic abusers, rapists, crooked cops, and so on, sending them down the River Styx ahead of time to make the world a better place. He willingly joined the coven to escape punishment. More than anything, he just wishes to live a quiet, peaceful life.

Power: Has luck manipulation, which can allow him to do everything from dodge attacks by near misses or turn his surroundings into a Final Destination movie for opponents. He tends to activate a particular mode based on the whims of a coin toss. 

Inspirations: Jinx from Teen Titans, Final Destinatiin, Two-Face, Yoshikage Kira

Elizabeth Bathory:   The Blood Countess herself. After evading death in the 1600s thanks to Eve, she became a loyal follower of the demon, and was recruited into the Order of the 1800s. Dracula and Rasputin managed to defeat her and supposedly kill her, but Bathory is notoriously hard to slay. True to her infamous reputation, she tends to “Feed” by bathing in the blood of her victims. 

Power:Bathing in blood gives her an insane power boost; the longer she soaks, the stronger she gets. She can also absorb blood through her skin, though she can’t absorb the blood of supernatural beings this way.

Elvis Rey: Growing up near the border, Elvis always wanted to be like his hero, Elvis PResley. He obsessively watched the man’s performances and learned his every move. When the man died, he vowed he was going to become the greatest Elvis impersonator that ever lived. The 80s weren’t too kind to him, and drinking, gambling, and overeating left him looking like chubby later-years Elvis. With debt collectors crawling down his neck, he turned to Eve, and became a powerful vampire.

Power: He is capable of replicating any non-supernatural ability he sees. For example, if he watched a martial arts movie, he would be able to pull off those moves. Think the comic book character Taskmaster. 

Inspirations: Elvis (Presley), Elvis (God Hand)

Giorgio Nero: Giorgio Nero was a member of Cosa Nostra who attempted to retire from this life due to his wife and child. However, his past would eventually catch up with him, and his child was nearly killed, which lead to Giorgio accepting an offer he had once rejected, but now couldn’t refuse: vampirism and joining with Eve’s coven. Despite everything, he is an honorable man who dearly loved his wife and adores and accepts his child.

Power: You know Magneto? Like from X-Men? Imagine that but instead of a Holocaust survivor it’s an Italian guy. Boom.

Inspirations: Magneto, Risotto Nero from Vento Aureo, Metlar from InHumanoids

James Wilson: James was born in 1812 as a slave. When he was 8, he was gifted to the man one of his master’s daughters married, along with 13 other slaves. As his former master’s name was Wilson, he took that as his surname. He worked as a stablehand until he became a farmer at age 12. After a rather brutal beating when he accidentally dropped a bag of freshly picked potatoes at age 25, James encountered Eve. She promised to help free him. She turned him into a vampire (1837). He lived on the run until the Emancipation Proclamation was issued and went into full effect in 1863. James used to speak in thick, Gullah speech, but over time, it has lessened as he acquired modern language.

Power: James’s power gives him the ability to summon and play with water. He can use it however he wishes: to drown someone, to create a small unnatural pool to swim in, or to cool someone off with a quick sprinkle. This comes from his silent love for water, though he wasn’t ever allowed to swim or play in it.

Inspiration: Splash Mountain

Juno Nero: The child of Giorgio Nero. They tend to wear long black coats, masks, and facial bandages to hide their face and body due to extreme anxiety. They are mute as well, and communicate via sign language. They are nonbinary.

Power: They can stretch their body like rubber (think Elastigirl, Rubber Band Man, Plastic Man, you get the idea).

Inspiration: Tendril from InHumanoids

Lady Drusilla Atterton: Born in 1852 in England as Drusilla Graham to a middle-class family. She grew up idolizing the wealthy and decided she would do whatever it took to become wealthy herself.Met Josiah Kipling, a 28 year old man, when she was 22. He fell madly in love with her. She was overjoyed as he was quite wealthy. They married in 1874 and had two daughters together (Katharine [1875] and Blanche [1877]). However, after 8 years of marriage (1882), Drusilla (now age 30) fell out of love with him and secretly laced his food with rat poison, ultimately killing him. As they had personal chefs, it was deemed to be the fault of the chef, who was arrested and charged with the crime. As his widow, she inherited a share of his wealth.Over the next 10 years (1882-1892), Drusilla married 8 other wealthy men from all over the country, all who mysteriously died less than a year later in what were deemed to be unfortunate accidents.

Donald Thompson, married in 1883, died in a carriage accident.

Maurice Parker, married in 1884, died of a laudanum overdose.

Timothy Edwards, married in 1886, died by drowning

Christopher Watson, married in 1887, died by falling out of a second story window

Nathaniel Harris, married in 1888, died of apparent suicide

Bernard Carter, married in 1890, died of a hunting accident

Percy Clarke, married in 1891, died after being attacked by a burglar

Timothy Atterton, married in 1892, died in bed (cause unknown)

She met Eve in 1892 shortly after marrying Timothy Atterton. Eve had heard of her reputation as the Cursed Widow (but knew full well her husbands’ deaths were her doing). As Eve was extremely weakened, Amon turned her. With Eve’s assistance, she killed her final husband by scaring him to death by introducing him to Eve. Drusilla vowed her loyalty.With the knowledge of how to turn another from Eve (as Amon refused to tell her how), Drusilla offered the gift of vampirism to each of her daughters. Katharine ( refused and cut herself off from her mother, instead choosing to live a full and honest life. Blanche, on the other hand, being so keen to be accepted and loved by her mother vowed her own loyalty to both her mother and Eve. When she turned 21, Drusilla turned her as well (as she was informed that youth would not survive the turning).

Power: Her  power allows her to paralyze her target with a simple cold stare for a full 5 minutes.

Inspiration: Lady Tremaine from Cinderella

Lord Gordon Ruthven: A rich, aristocratic vampire who enjoyed luring in and preying on young women. He was part of the Order of the 19th century. He is currently a severed head, as his body was destroyed by the Silverwings.

Power: Can exude a charm aura that makes women more susceptible to his commands and desires, though it only works on women capable of being attracted to him (it would not work on lesbains, for instance).

Mabel Lockhart: A sickly young girl whose father made a deal with Eve to keep her from dying. Her dad is currently missing, and she is unsure if he’s even alive.

Power: She has the ability to absorb energy, such as steam energy, electrical energy, etc and gain boosts and power depending on what type she absorbs. For example, absorbing electrical energy would allow her to to shoot lightning. She can also absorb a person’s energy, but at most she can make them very lethargic and gets little else from absorbing that sort of energy.

Inspiration: Loosely based on the Pokemon Magearna

Maddox Hinton: Maddox was born in 1863 in a small town in England. He doesn’t talk much about his past, but he does boast about how he and his father were valued hypnotists in their small town. He was his father’s apprentice, learning how the art of hypnotism worked, though he wasn’t quite as successful as his father. This was what Eve used to convince him to turn to vampirism. It occurred when he was 25 and preparing to take over the family business.His power helped him convince his customers that they were actually under the effects of hypnotism. His father simply believed that taking over the business helped him tap into his true potential. 

He continued this way until Eve demanded his help. He lied to his dad, telling him he was going to travel abroad and spread their business, causing his father to take over the business once again.Maddox served Eve for a few years before she told him she didn’t need his help anymore. It was likely this that irritated him so much that he eventually became loyal to Amon while under the very convincing facade he’s loyal to Eve.

The rest of his past is unknown. All he will often tell people is he traveled all over the world, performing great feats under fake names as “world-renown hypnotists”. Maddox is a wild card. He does things for the fun of it or for his own pleasure, often without any sympathy towards others.

Power: Maddox’s power allows him to take control of another (similarly to Gabby’s). However, he can take control of up to two people at once. Instead of physically puppeteering them, he simply suggests they do something and they do it.

Inspiration: Vex from Lost Girl

Margaret Derwin: Margaret was born in New York City in 1902. She grew up with a love for music, particularly singing. She had dreams of becoming a famous singer.When she was 18, she pursued these dreams. She got a job as a dancer at a speakeasy with hopes of, eventually, being able to become one of their singers in time. It was there that she met Elizabeth, one of the other dancers. They secretly fell in love (which answered Margaret’s confusion about why she wasn’t interested in men). Eventually, they decided to run away to California together. They made plans and prepared for this, but on the day it was to happen, Elizabeth never showed up. Margaret later discovered she had changed her mind and, instead, was going to marry a man she’d met at the speakeasy.Eve found Margaret heartbroken and wandering the streets looking for a new job after quitting at the speakeasy (as it was too difficult to continue working there when Elizabeth was still there). Eve easily wooed her to her side. Though, as Margaret had good intentions, Amon had eventually been able to convince her to assist him instead as he wanted to ensure Eve would stop preying on innocent people like herself.

Power:  Margaret’s power involves her voice. Through singing, she can influence one’s emotions depending on her intentions (anger them, seduce them, calm them down, soothe them to sleep).

Nora: Nora’s memories are very faded. She knows she was born to a very poor family in Ireland. She knows she was sold as an indentured servant at age 13 in exchange for her tickets to America, board, and food. She knows she worked for that American family for 7 years. She knows she caught influenza and was promptly fired by the family for fear she’d infect them all. She knows she was near death, wandering the streets alone, when a massive black snake promised to save her. At the time, Nora believed it was just an illusion. She found out the next day, however, that it was not. She’d been saved by the gift of vampirism.Nora lived a long, long time as a homeless woman. She watched as America grew into a country of its own. She preyed on any she could find in order to survive. Eventually, she took residence in an abandoned house on a street. Over time, rumors spread that a ghost lived in the house on Blackwell Street. Her appearance and her power did much to add to this as well, as did the occasional mysterious deaths of those who wandered into the house hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghost.

Power: Nora’s power allows her to become visible or invisible on command. She can only switch from one to the other every 10 minutes. She often uses this to frighten mortals and uphold her identity as the Ghost of Blackwell Street.

Tony Sugar:  Tony Sugar is the owner, spokesman, and iconic figure of the Lost Paradise Candy Company. With the help of Amon, he became one of the first successful Black candy makers in America. He’s very flamboyant, campy, and charismatic—essentially a black Willy Wonka. He is pansexual because, in his own words, “everyone deserves a little Sugar.” He is also an avid beekeeper.

Power:  He has the power to “mellify” corpses, filling them with a honey-like substance and turning them into zombies.

Inspirations: Tony Todd’s Candyman, Ruby Rhod, the song “Sweet Bod,” the myth of the mellified man

Walter Sherman: Formerly a college professor and devoted family man from the dawn of the 20th century, Walter was a good man known for always thinking forward and being able to accept new changes in the world. However, when a freak accident claimed the life of his wife and child, he couldn’t handle it and attempted suicide before being saved by Amon. He’s mostly in the coven out of loyalty to Amon.

Power: He has the power of adaptability, allowing him to easily adapt to any situation. For example, using lightning against him would make him adapt lightning resistance.

Inspirations: The Carousel of Progress

Wayne Nicol: A formerly friendly clown who was forced to witness unspeakable horrors during WWII. He survived the horrors, but was left fundamentally disturbed by the nightmare he had lived through. He joined the coven hoping to find some sort of safety, but as it turned out, Eve had other plans.

Power: Has the power to control and manipulate a person’s fears to weaponize against them.

Inspirations: Scarecrow (Batman), Pennywise, Freddy Krueger, The Day the Clown Cried

[gofancyninjaworld]

Why do you think Genos isn't weak? I agree that he can fight monsters but he won't stand a chance against strong monsters. He has been with Saitama for the longest time but he never learned anything. His naivety is the reason why he is weak, he is still consumed by the "normative awareness". His reaction to Amai Mask's transformation is a proof of that. His mindset never grew. He respects Saitama but does not understand him, which is why he is weak.

Please let me apologise in advance. First, this is long. Second, I do have a lot of thoughts.

Yeah, But

There isn’t a character in this series where the fanbase disagrees with the writer so deeply as this guy.  When interviewed, ONE insouciantly said ‘Genos is rather strong, even for a Class S hero,’ and fans went, ‘huh? You could have fooled us!’  It’s not without cause.  No matter how well his fights go, ONE always makes sure that we can append an asterix to it, that we can go yeah, but*

Right from the get go, every victory is downplayed. He thrashed Armored Gorilla, but we had no idea how strong Armored Gorilla was. Not for many, many chapters, until a much-shrunken, unarmored Armored Gorilla killed a tiger-level monster with one punch.   He clears a city and defeats two troublesome demon-level monsters in a matter of minutes? Yeah, but look at the state of his arms and oh! see, see, he just got flattened by that other monster!  Bang needs to save Garou from his clutches?  Yeah, but what if Garou was well?  He’s turning monster after monster into Cubist expressions without getting a speck of blood on him? Yeah, but it’s not like we can see what’s going on – the camera pans everywhere else.  He does the unbelievable against Elder Centipede?  We start going wow, followed quickly by – yeah but the monster regenerated, he’s fated to always lose.  He destroys G-5 without effort?  Oh My GAWD!  The Honour of Atomic Samurai [1] Has Been Besmirched!  (me: huh how does that follow? No, don’t explain – I do understand. Because Genos is seen as weak, if he does what another character couldn’t, then it’s seen as a disgrace to the other character, not an achievement for him.)

battle without honour – if he beat Garou, then he’s a bully, if he didn’t, then he’s a wimp

Of course, the converse is also true. If Genos is having a bad time, the camera lingers in 4K with extra slow-mo. And if the action switches, like when he went from struggling against G-4 to working out how to shut the robot’s lasers down and pull it into punching range, the camera pans away, returning only to feast on the grisly aftermath.

The final clincher is Genos himself, who never reacts with the slightest sense of celebration or triumph no matter how well a fight goes.  His lack of joy in fights is something that ONE has emphasised to Murata.   Being able to celebrate with characters is half the joy of watching them fight.

by contrast, hell yeah, Metal Bat! The story leaves no room for doubt that Metal Bat’s to be found awesome. And he is!  :)

The reason I go into all this is that I get it: Genos is presented to us in a way that gives us cause to doubt his strength.  In that, he’s like the opposite of Saitama, who is presented to us so we can have no doubt as to his strength, but to the internal audience in a way that keeps raising doubts in their minds.

But Genos is strong. He’s physically very strong, very fast, and versatile.  And he’s far less fragile than he is popularly made out to be. There is no reason he shouldn’t be able to take on very strong monsters, subject to match up (like almost every other hero [2]). However, ONE will make damn sure that Genos does not get to appreciate how much more powerful he has grown. What’s it going to be? What’s it going to take this time to knock down Demon Cyborg? Are several cadre going to attack him at the same time? Or will the super-insane monster that looks like the lovechild of Smaug, better-looking Sauruman and a hydra perched at the top of the mile high tower do him in first?  What’s going to *keep* him down? Place your bets, folk: the outcome is sure to be gruesome.

Which actually brings me directly to addressing your assertion: “…but he won’t stand a chance against strong monsters.“  Because it presupposes that Genos MUST be weak, any monster he defeats can’t possibly be strong.  A more honest rephrasing would be ‘I’m not prepared to accept that any monster that Genos could defeat is strong.’

No mental growth? Really?

That’s the physical part.  Let’s go onto mentality.  Annoyingly, I have to treat the manga and webcomic as separate entities at this point.  If you like the detail, I’ve written an extensive side-by-side comparison essay: link. You can skip it for this answer. :)

You know what would have made me think Genos weak?  If Saitama’s fears for what might be happening to him the morning he caught up with Garou had come true:

Before Elder Centipede showed up, Genos had told Garou that he’d finally begun to understand what Saitama had been saying to him about strengthening his spirit.  And then ONE put that to the test when he put Genos in the worst pinch the latter had ever been in: chopped in half and about to be devoured by a monster, with the only heroes watching those who’d proved impotent [3] to do anything to the monster.  Instead of giving up the way he had against Mosquito Girl, Genos dug deep and not only saved himself, but counter-attacked and burned the monster from stem to stern.  That is excellent: there is no place for a character who cannot find self-efficacy in a pinch.  

Without doubt, Genos has further to go, but in the manga it is wilful blindness to claim that he hasn’t developed mentally.

Now, let’s move onto the webcomic.

Even though ONE has done far less with his character in the webcomic than he has in the manga, Genos is back and fighting when most of his classmates are still rolling on the ground, unable to come to terms with losing. There is a real strength to getting up again and moving forward. 

It’s not that Genos doesn’t have any doubts: he does.  From his crushing realisation that he had made a mistake in giving up his human body to asking if he can really become stronger by changing his parts, Genos is very aware of a sense of stagnation and appears very worried by something.  But still, he’s not giving up and he’s not stopped looking to make progress.

even as Saitama despairs of being able to help, he cannot fault Genos for his determination

Still, why cheer for a loser?

There’s a real cognitive dissonance in fans who praise to the high heavens and write as inspirational Saitama’s words to keep trying and moving forward, no matter what, and yet are happy to mock Genos for doing exactly that.

There’s no honour for you if you laugh at characters taking Saitama’s advice

It’s amazing.  Does anyone imagine that before Saitama became too strong, he never failed? Really?  Saitama himself will disagree with that!  Sometimes success looks like reaching the summit of a mountain, but often, it’s only visible in the rearview mirror.  We saw it took Saitama a long time to finally accept that yup, he was just the strongest.

Something I came to realise a while back, people say they love seeing struggle, but real fights don’t sell well in mass media (yes, I have more extensive thoughts on this, here). We like the struggle, but we want the assurance that the underdog has something in their favour that will guarantee that we’re backing a winner.  At one level, we know we’re just watching *how* Garou is going to succeed… at least until Saitama body-checks him to great dramatic effect.

Goodness knows that everything is arranged against Genos and success. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble recounting most of them:

His lack of a biological body to train up.

His dependence on a mechanical body with its set in stone limitations.

His dependence on the cleverness and resources of others.

His lack of innate talent or heritage (and if he had any, they’ve long since been binned).

His stubborn persistence on a pathway we’re sure cannot possibly succeed.

His mentality, which is getting better, but isn’t there yet.

His persistent psychological problems that put him at high risk of turning into a monster instead.

The unresolved mysteries surrounding him, which make lots of fans think there’s a devastating revelation at hand from which he cannot recover.

And oh, he’s not the most likeable or relatable character out there. It shouldn’t be a factor, but it totally is.

And yet, Genos hasn’t stopped moving forward.  No idea how far he’ll get, but so far, Genos has not set himself a limit to the number of times he’s willing to get himself up and try again.  Not only that, he’s raised his sights higher, not lower.

For that and more, I’m not only happy to call Genos strong, but I’m willing to follow along with him however far or short his journey ends up being.

The risk of heartbreak is worth the excitement of seeing a real fighter working out his uncertain destiny.

no one can accuse him of lacking ambition. Gambatte!

Asides

[1] I know there’s a meme going round about Atomic Samurai being weak, but it’s as much in jest as the one about King being strong.  Anyone believing Atomic weak has piss-holes for eyes.

[2] There’s a reason Phoenixman highlights four heroes in particular – Blast, Tatsumaki, Metal Knight and King (Saitama).  They’re the heroes who are so strong that they’ve broken out of the tyranny of match up.  Everyone else has something they can’t deal with.

[3] You’re calling two old men impotent? Have you no shame?! In general, no, I haven’t much shame.  In this specific instance, it is entirely warranted.

[mindthelspace]

Meta Incoming

I hope people aren’t sick of hearing about the misery Gerry had to deal with in this life, because I’ve just found some more misery down the back of the sofa that the fandom has so far overlooked. And I found it mostly because I was a babybat around 2008, when Gerry was accused of skinning Mary alive and turning her into a book. 

In brief, when Gerry was charged for that particular bit of bullshit, he wasn’t just a man being accused of murder. He was a visibly alternative man being accused of a very gruesome murder, which resembled an occult ritual killing or something similar. 

And while it’s much less the case these days, in the late 2000′s, there was still a bit of an attitude that goths, metalheads, emos etc were innately suspicious, unhinged, and one bad day away from harming ourselves or others. 

(To show you what I mean, the Daily Wail managed to get this article into print in 2008. Sure, they were widely ridiculed for it, but the fact that it existed as a non-satire piece says something.)

So, when Gerry was charged with Mary’s murder, some of the below would have definitely happened (depending on how high profile the case was, whether any pictures of Gerry got released etc). 

People blaming Gerry’s actions on The Music. Combing through his albums and quoting any lyrics they found that sounded even vaguely relevant. And if Gerry’s anything like the metalheads I know, music would be a Big Deal to him, so this would have sucked. 

There’s a non-zero chance that some random metal band would have been actively dragged into the matter and accused of wrongdoing, or forced to defend their lyrics. 

Some awful right wing journalist would have gone one step further, and blamed Gerry’s actions on The Subculture. They might write an article suggesting- just out of concern, of course- that there was something fundamentally wrong with metal/goth and by extension, anyone in it. (Probably not fun to read if you’re Gerry!) 

Headlines emphasising Gerry’s alternative-ness, and directly linking it to the ‘murder’. GOTH FREAK SKINS MOTHER ALIVE. (Also probably not fun to read if you’re Gerry!)

Random dickheads might have used the murder as ammo against people who happened to look/dress a bit like Gerry, or share his music taste. Picture, if you will, somebody shouting “Gerard Keay!” or “Gonna skin your Mum mate?” out the side of a van at a complete stranger who happened to look vaguely goth. Again, if this happened, and Gerry found out about it, it would suck, massively. 

Whichever subcultural communities were on the receiving end of the above mud-slinging (i.e all of them, because mainstream tabloids think goth, punk, metal and emo are basically the same thing), would have responded by distancing themselves from the events- and by extension, from Gerry. Picture forums full of people complaining about stupid edgy bastards giving them a bad name, etc. This could well have changed Gerry’s situation from ‘able to go to events, but having to stay on the fringes because of circumstances’ to ‘having to stay away completely because people are blaming you for the community being attacked’.  Alternative communities often have a sense of camaraderie, which is inclusive towards newcomers and people who aren’t personally known. I can see the tarnishing of that tiny shred of community hitting Gerry pretty hard, especially as he didn’t have friends or decent family or anyone he could actually turn to. 

So tldr, along with everything else that came with the whole Mary-skin-book debacle, Gerry also had to deal people like him being attacked because of something the world thought he’d done, watch his appearance get publicly mocked and the music he loved get dragged through the mud, and/or quite possibly lose the only shred of community he had. :) 

Hope you weren’t already sad about him or anything. Isn’t writing meta fun? 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nate and Danny: The Lucky Ones

This is just a little recovery drabble - someone a while back requested a sweet moment with Nate and Danny, so here it is! You know, to get you all nice and relaxed before the next BTHB piece.

CW: Referenced past abuse/violence, noncon, drugging, dubcon (on both sides), trauma recovery. But, you know, I swear this one is really sweet at heart. Some hint of spice. Like PG-13 spice. 

Tagging @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, and @special-spicy-chicken. Also I owe a debt to @orchidscript for this one, as it pulls from a scene she and I wrote out a while back in a different context. Oh, and here is a link to the song that is in this piece if you haven’t heard it before.

“No, Danny.”

“Please? Come on, Nate, please, it’ll help, I know it will.”

Nate looks up from his position lying in the bed, where he’s been for the past three days. Danny stands between him and the window, and the hint of sunshine outside lights a halo around the red hair, turning the edges to a brilliant gleaming copper. Danny’s face is slightly shadowed this way, not exactly silhouette. It fades out the scars until they’re barely visible, lessens the hint of silver-gray visible just at his scalp if you know where to look.

But it doesn’t matter how dark the shadows make Danny’s face, Nate can still see the vibrant warm blue of his eyes.

Danny’s wearing a heavy sweater and soft cotton pants - he’s always wearing sweaters now, even as the weather begins to warm, even as flowers bloom in the landscaping at the edge of the apartment complex’s parking lot and the leaves bud on the trees outside. The sweater is a deep green, nearly the same color as Nate’s own eyes, and sets off every inch of the redhead’s pale freckled skin.

Nate swallows against the way the guilt pricks at him, a million little needles that never leave him alone. He hasn’t moved in days because he’s been thinking about how much they’ve all lost, and his sense that the life he is building here - taking care of Danny, going to therapy, watching Ryan Michaelson be the world’s biggest jackass until he looks at his brother and suddenly that drops and melts away into a devotion Nate has never seen before - is all going to be ripped away.

It was too easy, sending Bram to prison.

It was all too easy, and it won’t last.

Nate looks up at Danny, who gives him a shy and nervous smile, and thinks, My hands tied you to the headboard even when I begged him not to make me. My hand held the knife. My hand pulled your head back by your hair so he could watch the blood drip in your eyes. My hands helped him put the muzzle on your face that last time, my hands cleaned you up when he let you back out of the cellar, my hands, mine, I am covered in your blood. I am complicit, I’m as guilty as he is, it doesn’t matter what happens with his eyes.

I deserve to be dead.

Why am I here?

He slumps back onto the bed. “L-Leave me alone, Danny. I j-j-just want to stay here today.”

“No.” The word is a surprise to both of them - when Nate blinks and looks up, Danny’s eyes are wide and a little frightened at himself. 

Nate swallows hard against the rush of self-loathing as he reads the thought clear as day across Danny’s face: puppies don’t get to say no. “I, I mean…” Danny’s jaw sets, and Nate is even more surprised by the look of determination when those blue eyes move back to his. “I mean it. No. This always helped me when we did it up in the woods. I want to help you, Nate. I want you to believe me when I say I want you here. I want, um, I want… I want you to get out of the bed. Okay?” As though all his strength had bled out in his words, Danny’s shoulders slumped a little, hunching into himself, making himself smaller. “... please?”

It’s the crack in his voice on the final word that gets Nate to move. He’d tried to kill a man to save Danny. He’d burned down the cabin and driven away in the middle of the night. Whatever he was - however guilty - Danny didn’t see him that way.

Danny never seems to see the man that held him down to be hurt - only the man who watched movies with him late at night and helped him pick bundles of wildflowers to press, only the man who would sometimes kiss the bruises Bram had left with perfect tenderness. Danny saw the man who had saved him and not the man who was the reason he had been broken in the first place.

Danny saw the man who stitched him up after he was forced to step into the trap and not the man who had done nothing but uselessly hold him while Abraham made him do it.

Whatever he is, has been made into, Nate had discovered the ability to stand up when Danny needed him, in the end. Danny needs him to stand up now.

So Nate pushes back the covers, which seem to weigh three tons, and slides his feet off the side of the bed. He leans over for a second, hands on the edge of the bed, just sitting in his pajama pants and looking down at himself - the wicked stripe of pale, faded scar up his torso (Ashley), the twisted one along his collarbone (Bram), the smaller pockmarked places knives had gone in and out of him like love (Bram, always Bram, endlessly Bram).

When Danny holds out his hand, Nate reaches up with his good one to take it, lets Danny pull him up off the bed. Danny holds both of his hands, grip gentle and barely-there on the bad hand so as not to push the misplaced bones together.

“This helped, when you used to do it with me,” Danny says softly, looking down at him, and Nate tilts his head back to look up. It’s always so strange the way Danny can seem so small until you stand next to him and realize how tall he is, the height he hides as much with his personality as with the way he rolls his shoulders forwards and curves his spine.

If he disliked Ryan a little less, he’d ask if he was always like that, or if that was something he’d only learned in the cabin. After all, he and Danny had only seen each other a handful of times before Abraham came for him.

Nate had met some people and kind of fallen in with them, and Danny had been on the periphery of the group. Most of Nate’s interactions with him prior to the night Danny had come over to watch a movie with him - and Bram had finally hunted Nate down - had involved pretending not to watch Danny push and shove and dance with a crowd in a dark bar in front of a stage. Pretending his mouth wasn’t dry, that he wasn’t staring at the way Danny moved when the sweat slicked him up, dampened his shirt, left little bits of red hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck as he knocked back another drink, shot Nate a half-shy, half-bold flash of toothy smile before he went back to the crowd.

Nate had spent the time they were around each other pretending he wasn’t interested, because it wasn’t safe to be interested. Then he’d let his guard down, and here they are, nearly five years later, a broken puppy and Bram’s black-haired prince who burned down the fucking castle.

Danny takes Nate’s other hand in his, tilting his head with a nervous, shy smile, and Nate lets his eyes move back up to the halo of sunlight around his hair. Maybe Bram named the wrong one of us the prince. “H-How long have you been awake?” He asks, voice low and deep and uncertain. Danny smells like his shampoo and soap, an odd mix of flowers and something like mint. This close, Nate can tell his hair is still the slightest bit damp.

(do you like him better this way, baby?)

Of course I like him better free

(but he was so good for you, before)

He’s better for me now

Nate shakes off the thoughts, the hint of Bram’s voice that never quite leaves him, and sighs. “Fine. We’ll t-t-try it. But if it doesn’t w-work, you let me get b-back in the bed, okay?”

“It’s a deal. It’ll work, Nate, I know it will.”

There’s hardly enough room, with Danny’s big bed and his desk and a dresser, but Nate lets himself be pulled, moving to the one space in here big enough for what Danny wants to do. Now that he’s agreed to it, Danny’s smile has shifted, widened, become more certain of itself and sincere. It crinkles the scar tissue at the bridge of his nose, makes the broken line of his jaw on each side less obvious, makes the tiny pinprick scars from the sharp pieces that stuck off the metal and jabbed his skin less noticeable.

Nate wants to touch the scar, to trace it with his hands like he does when Danny is scared or goes too far inside his own head for them to follow. The touch that brings him back when he’s lost in the woods. He never wants to stop touching the scars, rub his thumbs right into them until they both forget what made them.

He swallows as Danny moves him, the taller man’s face gone serious and thoughtful, his eyes a little distant, lost in thought, in memory.

He made me hurt you so many ways, and when I can’t get out of bed, you still come here to pull me up.

There’s an infinite, innate capacity for forgiveness in Danny that Nate cannot begin to fathom, is utterly unprepared for. He doesn’t deserve it, didn’t expect it. He expected to be tossed out as soon as his testimony was done, as soon as his part in putting Bram away was over. Instead, Danny spent a day with his parents and came back shaking, fucked up, but with enough promised money to cover Nate’s therapy and medical bills and an offer to let Nate stay here as long as he wanted to stay.

Forever, Nate wants to say, but he never does. I don’t know how to start over any longer. I don’t want to start over without you.

“No, come, come here,” Danny murmurs, sliding an arm around Nate’s waist, pulling him close until they’re pressed together. Danny’s hipbones, still sharp from years of never eating enough, push just a little against Nate’s abdomen. “Too far away.”

“Wh-why?” Nate asks, and he’s asking a dozen different questions with that one single word - afraid of what the answer might be for most of them, desperately wanting an answer to the rest.

“Because it worked, when you did it on the days I didn’t want to get up off the mat. Because it worked, then. It can work for you, too.”

Danny’s arms slide around him, and Nate echoes the motion, his forehead dropping to rest on Danny’s shoulder, feeling the jut of his collarbone even through the heavy fabric of his sweater. When Danny starts to move, Nate moves with him, the slow shifting back and forth of a middle-school dance but without what Nate’s grandmother had called ‘space for Jesus, Joseph, and Mary’ between them.

He fights the hint of helpless, sad laughter, the thought of what his grandmother would think of him now, slow-dancing in the bedroom of… whatever Danny was to him. Whatever they were to each other.

(I’ve met real gods, you know - and real gods never forgive you)

Nate swallows, and he must tense, because Danny’s arms tighten around him. “Here, let me help the wrong thoughts,” Danny whispers, and Nate closes his eyes at the rush of shame there. Wrong thoughts, Bram’s words in Danny’s voice.

(do you think you’ve earned forgiveness, sweet thing? do you think you’ll ever earn it?)

Danny begins to hum, slightly tuneless and off-key, resting his chin on Nate’s hair, the two of them still moving slowly, back and forth. He’s too aware of Danny’s body, of the warmth of the arms around him. He’s too aware of the scars that his hands caused at Bram’s command, inside and out.

He’s too aware of what he’s done, too sure that he will never, ever deserve the forgiveness that Danny never stops offering him.

“I c-can’t-” He starts, and Danny’s arms tighten even more, until they nearly hurt, until they nearly steal his breath.

“Yes, you can,” Danny murmurs into his hair. “I could, for you. You can for me.”

There is silence, for a while, the sun cutting stripes through the blinds across Danny’s old wooden desk under the window, the rumpled covers with the quilt on top. The green of Danny’s sweater soft against his cheek, the hint of dark red and copper blending in his hair. He knows just what Danny’s eyelashes look like right now, closing against his cheek, bright, light ginger-copper and so long it’s fucking ridiculous - no one should have eyelashes that long.

“Better?” Danny whispers - and it almost is.

(your body belongs to me, your love is for me, your life is mine)

Nate shudders and shakes his head.

Danny nods against his hair, and there’s quiet for another little while. He’s not sure how long, because all he can think of is how much he doesn’t deserve this moment. He should be in prison right next to Bram, in his own solitary cell, a menace, a destroyer, a villain in Danny’s narrative.

Then Danny starts to sing.

It’s halting and cracked in his hoarse, rough voice, and Nate turns his head so his ear is against Danny’s shoulder, mouth just barely brushing the skin of his neck. This way he can feel the vibration of sound through Danny’s chest.

“It was a Monday when my lover told me, ‘never pay the reaper with love only’,” Danny sings, off-key, but Nate presses his lips together and his ear a little more against Danny’s sweater, listening to the soft sound. He knows this song, doesn’t he?

He’s heard this song before, but where?

“What could I say to you,” Danny sings, “Except ‘I love you’, and ‘I’d give my life for yours’?... I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones. I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

“Wh-what are you s-s-singing?”

“Sssshhh,” Danny says softly, and Nate falls silent again. Danny never gives orders, never gives commands. He’s submissive and eager-to-please, nervous and worried all the time. This version of him is vanishingly rare, and Nate wonders if this was what he was like with his boyfriends, before - and Nate just never had the chance to learn about it, then.

“The first time we made love, I wasn’t sober,” Danny sings, voice warming a little, “And you told me you loved me over and over-”

I’m s-s-so sorry, I’m so s-s-sorry, Red, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, j-j-just look at m-me now, okay?

(what are you waiting for?)

‘Kay, can do it, can look-... your eyes are bleeding, Nate, like green sky, you’re stained glass, you’re a fucking saint sparking fucking starlight fuck, ah

J-Just look at me, Red, just look right at me, it’s going to be oh-okay, it’s okay, I d-d-don’t want to, I promise, I just, I have to-

(of course you want to. and if you don’t, I will)

Sssshhh, s’okay if it’s you. Always if it’s you. I want you too. Saint Nate, ha, Saint Nate saint… Saint Nathaniel, patron saint of, of puppies and fuck, what’d he put in my drink? Shit, you feel so good, don’t stop

Fuck, R-Red, I’m so sorry

(stop holding out on him, baby, he’s asking for it)

“-how can I ever love another, when I miss you everyday?” Danny kept singing, shifting them back and forth with the slightest movements in rhythm to his song. Nate kept thinking he’d heard this song before, somewhere, in his past, in the life before Abraham. 

There was a life before Bram.

“Remember the time we made love in the roses? And you took my picture in all sorts of poses-”

Look at this, Nate! It’s like all the flowers bloomed at once this year! Here, let me make you a dandelion chain. My friend Kelli taught me how to do this when we were kids, let me make you one, it’s like a crown, like you’re a, a prince for real.

G-G-Go for it, Red, I’ll pretend I d-don’t look ridic… ridic-... that I don’t look stupid.

You never look stupid, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Here, I’ll make chains for us both, that way we both look stupid, right?

Right.

You could never look stupid, you know. You always look so good.

Wh-what?

Never mind. Let me grab more dandelions, I’ll be right back.

Danny with the yellow dandelions woven through his hair, grinning at him, a flash of white teeth and crinkled scars and the sunlight that turned his freckles darker and darker while his skin stayed pale and white. Sitting shirtless in the garden while they worked, sun burning his shoulders reddish pink, the smile on his face when he settled the second chain on the top of Nate’s head.

And Bram never saw that moment - that memory was theirs, alone.

“-How can I ever get over you, when I’d give my life for yours?”

I tried to kill for you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones… I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear… my dear…” Danny’s voice cracks again when he tries to hit the high notes, and Nate is struck by how fucking awful his singing voice is, and how he doesn’t care at all, it sounds amazing to hear it.

Like watching him dance in his kitchen when he thought no one was watching, barely hitting the high note. The way his heart had leapt when Ryan had popped out onto the patio with a finger on his lips, the sound of Danny’s music blaring in the kitchen behind them, and whispered, come on, motherfucker, you have got to see what he’s doing now.

“It’s time to say I thank God for you,” Danny sings, “I thank God for you… in each and every single way-... and I know, I know, I know… it’s time to let you know, time to let you know, time to sit here and say…”

I’d kill for you again.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I hurt you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I couldn’t save you for four fucking years.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

I loved you so much and I still couldn’t save you.

“We are the lucky ones, dear…” Danny’s voice trails off, the two of them still moving in rhythm, and Nate takes a deep breath of the smell of Danny, the simple scent of his skin layered under clean soap and that weird floral shampoo he buys. His hands tighten in the fabric of Danny’s sweater.

“What’s that s-s-song?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s… it’s B-something, Naked…”

“Bif Naked,” Nate blinks. “I knew I kn-knew that song. I used to l-l-love her… where d-d-did you ever hear that song?”

“... promise not to laugh?”

“C-Cross my heart and hope to d-die.”

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Nate has to bite back the instinctive laughter in return, and barely manages it, and feels Danny stiffen a little. “Don’t judge! Ryan loves Buffy, or did. We watched all the reruns. She and some guy dance to that song, and I… I liked it, so I downloaded it and listened to it a bunch. I was listening to it earlier cleaning the kitchen, and it… made me think of you. Of… of us.”

There’s a silence that stretches between them, comfortable but weighty.

Then Danny says softly, “There’s an us, right?”

“Danny, I w-w-want to go back to the bed,” Nate replies in a rush, and feels Danny’s shoulders drop a little. Feels the sudden well of fear that threatens him. “W-wait. Don’t, just… just let me f-f-finish. I w-want to go back to the bed and I want y-y-you to come with me.”

Danny pulls back and away all at once, and Nate swallows back the spike of panic that he’s crossed a line, gone too far. They’ve done nothing more than this, than maybe a few kisses, since they came back. He doesn’t deserve any more. He doesn’t deserve this.

Danny catches his eyes, and Nate thinks, no one could ever earn the forgiveness you never stop giving me.

The scarred hands find their way up to his face, rough fingers with skin calloused to near-numbness by years of being forced to work too hard, to hurt himself. Nate’s own hands cover them, the pads of his own fingers pressing into the scars without flinching, without fear. He doesn’t mind Danny’s hands, he never has. He loved them clean and he loves them scarred. He loves the body he knows too well and for all the wrong reasons.

He wants to erase all the wrong ones, all the times Danny was hurt, and cover him over in something new. But maybe he isn’t the right person, for that - maybe Danny needs someone else, someone who isn’t complicit, who isn’t guilty, who isn’t-

“Yeah, let’s go to the bed,” Danny says, and smiles. Nate’s heart breaks, but it beats harder, too, and he can’t reconcile the two feelings, the sense of being given a gift, again, that he should never have been given at all.

“D-don’t, you don’t have t-to,” Nate says softly. “I know that y-you, that you need to take time-”

Danny leans in to kiss him, and Nate hasn’t felt the warmth of his lips quite like this since that night in the truck, since he took the muzzle off and Danny came back to life. “I need time,” Danny agrees, nuzzling against the side of his face. “But I have time. And I have, um, I have you. Can I have you, too, and time? Do I get to have both?”

Nate hesitates, uncertain what answer he’s meant to give to that, what the question even means. Then Danny grabs him by the hands and pulls him back to the bed, pushes him onto his back, and Nate’s uncertainty breaks apart and melts under the sudden weight of Danny climbing on top of him, pressing him into the soft blankets and the mattress that gives just a little under their weight. Danny kisses him again, slowly, wonderfully, hands running slowly up Nate’s sides. There’s a surety, a certainty, to him that Nate would give anything to see more of.

Nate, look, the body had a canoe in this shed. Do you… do you think I could lay down in it? Do you want to see if we can, um... do you want to?

Look, I found baby rabbits. Do you think the mother’s around here somewhere?

I, um, I made you this - for you. Do you like it? Is it okay?

Do you think we would have really gotten together, if it hadn’t been like this?

I’ll take a shower before he gets back, Nate, he won’t ever know.

Danny’s hands slide rough-skinned over Nate’s shoulders, feeling over the scars Bram left on him. He licks at the scar on Nate’s lip, the tiniest nick that only shows when he smiles, really, and finds his way to his ear and down his neck, trailing lips over the circles that Ashley cut into him, over and over again.

“D-Danny,” Nate murmurs, sliding hands up into his hair. “Danny, don’t d-d-do anything you don’t w-want to do-”

“I want to,” Danny says softly. “I want to. I want to all the time, but I’m not, I’m not supposed to want to any longer-”

“Hey.” Nate’s fingers tighten just a little in his hair and Danny stills, looking at him with the blue eyes, the sun catching them just right to make them seem almost to glow. His face is flushed and red, and Nate smiles at the sight of him, the way he bites his lower lip, just a little bit. “You  get to w-w-want whatever you w-want, now, remember? We’re free.”

“Free,” Danny breathes out, shivering at the word. His hips press just a little into Nate’s, and he can’t quite catch his breath at the way that feels. Warm and human and he feels like a live wire under Danny’s body, shifting a little at the press of Danny against him. “I get to say no, now, right?”

Nate nods, slowly. “You get to say no. Forever. Anytime you w-w-want. Even right n-now, Danny. Tell m-me to fuck off, and I will. No hard f-f-feelings.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off. I want you to...” Danny colors, bright red covering up the freckles and scars across his cheeks, and they both realize the joke Danny wants to say at the same time as they realize he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

“You d-d-decide what happens now,” Nate says, firmly. “All y-you, Danny. Every step of the way.”

Danny swallows, hard, and lowers himself until he’s resting on his elbows, their bodies touching from breastbone all the way through their legs. The weight of him isn’t nearly enough for his height, and Nate feels the curve of his muscled shoulders, down his biceps, slides his hands up under the sweater, pushing it up to feel the rippled whip-scars that line his upper back. “If I get to say no, Nate, I want… I want to, um.” Danny looks to the side, shyly, then back at him. He leans in to kiss him, one more time. “I can’t... not to everything. But to a little... I want to say yes.”

[mystech-master]

Annon-Guy: What are you personal thoughts on Nu-13 and Lambda-11 In terms of gameplay and personality? You can talk about their character designs too id you want too.

Okay, I need to first summarize what I know of Nu and Lambda at the moment before I give my personal thoughts. A lot of shorthanding and maybe some errors may be involved so plz forgive me.

long post bellow, beware.

Nu-13 and Lambda-11 are both Prime Field Devices, artificial humans made for the purpose of exploring the boundary. Specifically, they are Murakumo Units: PFD’s outfitted with the Nox Nyctores Lux Sanctus: Murakumo as full-on weapons.

When Ragna’s siblings were captured, because of Saya’s innate gift with seithr, she was used as the basis for creating all of these Units. There are usually referred to as “clones” which means everyone treats them as either the same as Saya or also sisters, leading to a lot of incest jokes and rants in the fandom. More on this later but I feel like it has to be brought up.

we first meet Nu-13 as the final boss of the first game Calamity Trigger, where we learn that this is technically the 3rd time she and Ragna have met, since before this Ragna was blowing up NOL branches and cauldrons to stop more Murakumo Units from being made, as they are all just fake copies of his sister who was tortured for their creation.

Nu-13 has a full-on yandere crush on Ragna due to 2 factors I believe, 1. she is constantly viewing him through the lens of the fragment of Saya’s soul saying “Ragna is the big brother who loves me”, and 2. Ragna killing her again and again. This causes her to see Ragna killing her as loving her. Not helping is her being made in the Boundary which completely fucks up your mental state when near it.

At the end of almost every ending in CT, Nu defeats Ragna, skewering them both on her sword, they fall into the Cauldron and travel back in time 100 years to become the Black Beast that ravaged the world in the Dark War, creating a time loop. As when a Murakumo does an imperfect fusion with an Azure Grimoire (or at least a piece of the Azure) it becomes a Black Beast, with a perfect fusion resulting in a Kusanagi: the God Slayer (which is what Noel becomes and what the villains were trying to do to take down Amaterasu (the god of Blazblue world). Fitting as a Murakumo, with the Kusanagi being a super version of it, has a Nox capable of resisting Phenomenon Intervention, which is the Mater Unit’s main Power. So when they say God Slayer they do not mean gods in general they mean a SPECIFIC god. Just need to say that).

Anyways, Nu kills Ragna every now and again for like 725 loops before Noel steps in during the true ending and manages to grab Ragna before he and Nu fall into the Cauldron.

In Continuum Shift, the second game taking place right/ a week after the first game, Nu’s body is recovered from the bottom of the Cauldron (yes those things apparently have a bottom they aren’t just portals) by Sector Seven and Kokonoe proceeds to ake Nu’s soul and put it in the body of another Murakumo Unit, Lambda-11 to use as a puppet and fight for her. Her weapons are made of titanium alloy instead of Hihi'irokane (the mythical Japanese metal which is also in the Susano’o Unit and is also the name of a Soul cutting sword in Blazblue), and she is outfitted with an IDEA Engine, an improved version of the Artificial Causality Phenomenon Weapons: a scientific counterpart to the Nox Nyctores using Atomic Power rather than souls.

Lambda’s memories are still in there and she recalls the torture she had to endure by all the scientists creating her, which I assume all Murakumos underwent including Nu, so Kokonoe has to erase her memories to make her an effective tool, even if she regrets it.

They don't really explain where the soul starts and the mind/memories begin and vice versa though, this is another thing I will tackle later.

She sends out Lambda in the second game to do things, she like Tager for the most part just acts as Kokonoe’s proxy, until the climax of the true ending where Ragna is fighting Terumi at the top of the NOL branch. Just as Terumi is about to kill Ragna, Lambda takes a lethal blow for Ragna, and in her final moments, Nu’s soul comes to the surface and is glad she got to see Ragna again, him having recently gone through the character development of not seeing Murakumos as things but as people after interacting with Noel. As she dies and fades into sparkles, weird for a science thing, she grants Ragna her Idea Engine, giving him the power boost he needs to defeat Terumi and later save Noel who was smelted into the Kusanagi.

Now in the third game, because Ragna and Nu have a Life Link, which means one cannot die permanently without the other being killed in a short time frame, Nu is now able to come back as she couldn’t before with Kokonoe shoving her soul into Lambda. She mostly just acts as the villains' combat android until she copies Noel’s power to summon the Master Unit (as both are Saya fragments and also fragments of The Origin, the first PFD who made contact with the Master Unit and sort of.....became it?). Then in the climax, the villains summon Take-Mikazuchi, a giant titan satellite laser thing, and make Nu the core of it. Once the body is destroyed Ragna goes inside to deal with Nu. She proceeds with her usual shtick of telling Ragna they will “become one” and to kill her and all that, saying the backstory of pretty much every Murakumo about how she was made to be a weapon and how she was tortured and shit, this is also her saying Noel’s backstory since Noel ‘Observed” Nu as her which is SORT of true since they are both Saya but not really, it’s confusing as hell. But, basically, she is saying the shared Murakumo Backstory and Ragna sees this as her cries to be saved, while Nu, who only sees her and Ragna’s relationship as a mutually sadomasochistic one, goes bonkers and tries to kill Ragna, not out of yandere lust, but actual anger and hatred. Ragna wins and brings her out of Take-Mikazuchi, where Izanami takes control of her and makes her stab Ragna and he goes berserk and loses control of the Azure Grimoire.

the fourth game Central Fiction is a mess so I know the least here but from what I recall:

Nu is now growing to be her own person, she is less robotic but that means Yandere Ragna mode is on all the time. She is going around absorbing Nox Nyctores to get power so she can kill Ragna and do the merge. Near the climax, she is fighting Jubei and when she almost kills Tsubaki, Hakumen steps in and wrecks her shit. (In a previous time loop Tsubaki was killed by Nu b/c Noel didn’t exist and wasn’t Jin’s secretary instead of Tsubaki, so she went after Jin in the first game who was going after Ragna, she got caught in the crossfire, with Nu’s yandere mind hating any female in the same room as Ragna, and dies. Jin then falls into the cauldron after Ragna and Nu to become Hakumen during the Dark War. More time loop BS).

Meanwhile due to the Embryo, BS plot device, Lambda just.....comes back to life. Even though her soul was technically never a part of the story as it was NU’S soul in the body during CS. Anyways she is basically “good Nu” she is fighting the villains through sheer Power of Love and just wants to see Rgana again, she is pretty unimportant in the overall scheme of things.

After the world is remade Noel and Lambda move into the rebuilt church where Ragna and the siblings grew up and became nuns, looking after the comatose Nu who is kind of a vegetable with her sole reason for existing, Ragna, now no longer existing and all memory of him being erased.

Okay so after that lengthy summary, here are my thoughts.

1. the sister thing.

In spite of them being “clones” of Ragna’s little sister Saya, that hasn't stopped a shit load of ship teasing with the Murakumos by both the writers and the fandom.

Part of me thinks it’s because they go too far in the “They are their own unique people, they aren’t just fake copies of Saya” to which the fans mostly agree, but that just means while they aren’t Saya they are still related/connected to her. It isn't like Ragna can only have ONE sister.

Also, the reveal of Izanami being Saya at the end of CS also factors into this.

My only way to do mental gymnastics around this is saying that by “clone” they just mean copy/looks like her and has the same abilities, but genetically they are different.

I mean, we have no idea how Murakumos....work. They can't have any mechanical bits because we see them get zapped in-game and they have no metal, Noel CERTAINLY would've known she wasn't human if she didn't grow like a normal human or eat, sleep, produce waste, etc.

To me, Murakumos seem to be like software/computer programs given physical form via seithr. More like the Valentines in Guilty Gear, “robots” made up of information.

Plus, the story only ever points out the sibling connection with Ragna and Noel, and that’s in the LAST game and until then she’s just a stranger to him, with Lambda and Nu NEVER being treated the same.

And before anyone goes “BUT THE SCIENTIFIC DEFINITION OF CONE MEANS ‘HUR DE DUR, SAME DNA’ AND THEY USE THE WORD CLONE TO DESCRIBE THEM IN CANON! MEH!”, that could just be an over-simplification as to what they are, and I feel like a lot of series just rely on an oversimplification of terms. Like how Black Holes mostly work in fiction is NOT how they work IRL.

Now, does this mean I would’ve wanted Ragna to get with Noel or Lambda or Nu? Fuck no. I can appreciate cute little one-shots that have nothing to do with canon, but in terms of looking this train wreck of a story and trying to fix it they have other issues that make me not want to ship them.

I might go into why I wouldn't want Ragna x Noel in another post later, but I’ll stay on topic with Nu and Lambda.

Both are kind of boring

Lambda is basically Nu with less personality and is just a plot device for the most part.

As for Nu, even if you redeem her and keep her loving Ragna qualities without the yandere murder, it is still boring. because all her interests are Ragna she has nothing else going for her. Outside of the most generic romance shit what can you see Nu doing with him? it’s a bit upsetting because Nu seems like the type of person who’d have Ragna’s back and punch Jin in the dick if he insults or threatens Ragna, which is something I would LOVE in an S.O. for Ragna.  But without her own interests and character, she is just......boring. And yeah you could theorize that she gains an interest outside of Ragna post-redemption but that is too broad of a statement that I can’t really do anything with it.

So frankly, even IF we ignore the sister thing or do weird mental gymnastics about it, Ragna/Nu and Lambda would just be BORING as they are in canon outside of the most generic BS.

2. The connection between Nu and Lambda

Really Lambda was just made to keep Nu’s gameplay in while killing her in canon, that is a dumb excuse.

Some people like to see Lambda s Nu but redeemed temporarily but then come to CP and it’s like none of the Lambda stuff mattered. You’d think that at least Ragna would use Lambda’s death as an ace for his argument on using the Azure Grimoire as when he wasn't able to use it he got his shit kicked in and someone had to DIE for him because of that. But NOPE.

Then she is revived for bullshit fanservice reasons in CP Extend and is barely a thing in Story Mode

A while ago I made a post showing 3 ways they could've gotten rid of Nu that would’ve made good character moments. I will be focusing on number 3 here: Have Nu and Lambda be the same person.

Instead of Lambda being brought back via Embryo Bullshit, have Nu and Lambda be a split personality deal. Like Nu is the CS Mu to Lambda’s Noel. Say during Ragna’s Arcade mode or Nu’s Arcade mode Nu slightly hesitates when about to kill Ragna, reality flickers a bit revealing Lambda’s color scheme on Nu, showing that Lambda is within her. Nu’s soul spending time in Lambda has given her an alternate identity.

This doesn't just have to affect just Ragna, maybe Lambda remembers that Kokonoe mind-wiped her and tried to make her into a puppet thus making her no better than the villains.

During the climax, instead of Nu’s yandere rage, we have that mixed in with Lambda’s hysterical cries begging for death due to the torture of Nu’s memories. Both side tr and kill Ragna out of rage or trying to force him to kill them in self-defense. Ragna, of course, doesn’t and saves them, thus allowing Nu-Lambda to be brought back to Kokonoe and redeemed.

Maybe her hair is a mix of Nu and Lambda’s making it a Platinum Blonde (making it a mixture of Nu’s white hair and Lambda’s blonde hair), and the tanner skin complexion and red eyes further separate her from Noel.

3. Story roles

The first two games are fine for the most part but I have some ideas for the last two.

For the 3rd game, an idea I had was instead of Nu being the one to summon the Master Unit via stealing Noel’s power, have Amane do something important in this game instead of having him chase Carl.

he is said the be the “Uzume” like the god who stripped and made Amaterasu come out of the cave after her sibling fallout with Susano’o. Simply have Amane be the “herald of Amaterasu”, possibly being a being similar to Terumi, a spirit of a god unit. maybe not AS powerful as the Sankishin, but just under. This means that Nine’s Hino Kagutsuchi would fall under this category as well. Or maybe he simply has a story connection with Noel in accepting the part of her connection to the Origin and the Azure or something.

To go off of the shipping thing above, maybe to at least use the Saya soul thing, she is struggling with her feelings towards Ragna because how much of these feelings are her own, and how many are born from an isolated sibling’s misplaced love? This is probably something a villain taunts her about

I kind of theorize that Saya’s fear of other people instilled in her during the siblings’ days as lab rats and Ragna protecting her made her develop an unhealthy sister crush on him, this, of course, isn't helped by the Origin (who she is based on) wanting Ragan to be her knight in shining armor.

Again, more on this later possibly.

Anyways, so Lambda can get her own feelings in order and prove that she isn’t just a copy of Saya or Noel, she tries to make her own identity. maybe cutting off that large Murakumo ponytail in the process, b.c that’s an Asian culture thing about cutting hair to symbolize the beginning of a new stage in her life. Maybe after forgiving Kokonoe, she joins Sector Seven not as a field agent like Tager, but as Kokonoe’s new assistant and friend, showing that she isn't going to be used as a tool or a weapon.

I still need to get on with drawing Lambda in a lab coat styled after her Murakumo cloak.

As for at least Nu’s connection with Ragna. It is weird because I generally either hate or have enormous contempt for almost everyone Ragna has interacted with for the pettiest reasons. For Nu, while she is crazy towards Ragna and tries to kill him, it's due to her own psychosis and insanity, which is partially Ragna’s fault. Everyone else who gives Ragna shit is either a villain (in which case it’s fine because it is a VILLAIN, which Nu sort of counts as), or an arrogant asshole who KNOWS what they are doing for the lols. So I SORT OF give Nu a semi-pass. But like I stated above I can’t see what she would be if she were redeemed, so I do feel like if she wasn't going to be used as a way to bring Lambda back, she should've been killed.

 The point is, the Murakumos have a lot of potential for smaller things but they are incredibly mishandled in a lot of ways too, including showing up where they really shouldn't a lot of times. Shipping is okay so long as you are capable of doing mental gymnastics to ignore the sister shit, and don’t look at a whole lot of other issues.

These are just my thoughts and maybe I didn’t explain things enough, or I did it weirdly, or I have some different opinions, IDK. This series gives me a lot of feelings

[littleeyesofpallas]

BLEACH  -Name Games

You know who I totally forgot even existed? (and so did Kubo?) The Royal Guard(pt.1)!

Hyousube[兵主部] Ichibee[ 一兵衛]:

Hyou[兵]= “Soldier,” Su[主]=“Chief,” Be[部]=“Department.”  To specify I think it’s supposed to read “Chief-Department [of the] Army,” as opposed to “Department [of] Army Chief(s).”  It’s pretty literal as far as the specific character, and in-world it implies he comes from a lineage of military commanders. (Either that, or he’s the first of his name and took the surname based on his own military career.)  But much more notable is that his given name is Ichi[一]=“One” Be[兵]=“Soldier” E[衛]=“Defense”/“Protection.”  You’ll notice that both his names use the same kanji for ”Soldier,” but of note here is that Bei[兵] reads directly as “(Non-officer ranked) Soldier”/“Weapon/War-Machine,” 

Hyou[兵] means the same kind of “Soldier” as the Bei[兵] reading, but also refers to the Fu[歩] piece in Shougi, which is pretty much identical to the Pawn in chess.  Personally, I assume the change in pronunciations was more a matter of finding an aesthetically pleasing name, over pinpointing a more specific meaning, but it’s hard to say.  Still, “Chief Department [of] Pawn(s)” does take a little more sinister tone, which aligns with a lot of the ominous atmosphere Kubo surrounded Ichibee with, even it didn’t really amount to anything.

It’s worth noting that for a character seemingly named after his innately military aspects, we don’t see him actually command any soldiers (unless you count him being the Royal Guard’s defacto team leader, but I don’t think that’s quite the same)  Also, he doesn’t evoke the usual imagery of a military leader; he’s very clearly more Shinto/Buddhist monk than he is samurai or feudal lord.  Moreover, he also seems to dodge falling into the Souhei, warrior monk character type, despite that being the most obvious overlap of the existing themes. 

Another thing that caught my attention was that fact that the name Ichibee[ 一兵衛]=“One Soldier Protect” has very clear similarities to Ichigo[ 一護]=“One Protect,” although to what end it doesn’t seem clear.  But there’s not way Kubo made Ichibee’s name without knowing he’d made it very similar to Ichigo’s, I just have no idea what he could’ve meant by it.  (Very probably just another of many dropped threads...)

Kirinji[麒麟寺] Tenjirou[天示郎]:

Kirin[麒麟] = “Qilin,” a Chinese mythical beast, typically depicted as a cross between a dragon and a horse or deer, but with many variations.  They are also a part of the 5-phases cycle of elements in daoist mysticism, and its many iterative features.  Namely, amidst the cardinal directions(NSEW...), colors(Black, Vermillion, Blue/Green, White...), elements(Water, Fire, Wood, Metal...), and creatures(Tortoise, Bird, Dragon, and Tiger...), the Qilin is associated with Yellow, Earth, and “Center” a 5th cardinal direction in Daoist geomancy.  They are sometimes interchangeable with a “Yellow Dragon” which is itself interchangeable with the Emperor either in the form of a man or a dragon himself.  And the kanji Ji[寺] = “(Buddhist) Temple,” so the surname reads “Kirin Temple,” which is actually pretty straight forward.

In a funny coincidence, the general descriptions of the Qilin as horse or deer-like, with scale-like patterns, golden color, and horns/antlers is how early Ming dynasty encounters with Giraffes led to the Chinese name for Giraffe being Qilin.  And by proxy Japan’s name for the Giraffe is also Kirin.

I didn’t think about it until typing this out, but this might actually be why Tenjirou’s designed to be very tall and thin... and with a pompadour that kinda looks like a giraffe head... oh my god he’s a giraffe...

His given name, Tenjirou, reads Ten[天] = “Heaven,” [示] = “Show” /”demonstrate”/”exemplify,” and [郎] = “Son,” and seem to suggest that he is either himself an example of divinity, or he is a person who indicates or heralds divinity.  Like with most of the Royal Guard, we never actually got to see enough of him to really put this in proper context.  Ironically his personal epithet is  Sentouki[泉湯鬼] = “Spring Hot Demon.” It’s notable that he uses the Chinese Tāngquán[湯泉] but in reverse order, rather than the Japanese Onsen[温泉] which the more recognizable word for “Hot spring.”  All in all it is a name that has very Chinese overtones to it, although he has more of a delinquent vibe, what with the pompadour and thuggish attitude.

Kin[金] = “Gold,” Pi[毘] = “Assist(?)” Ka[迦] = “ka.” (This is what’s called a Jinmeiyou kanji, used to lend phonetic sound to a name without indicating its own meaning.)  But something that strikes me as odd here is that there is the actual kanji -suke[助] that is a common suffix in names that also means “Assist.”  So in conjunction with the -ka, clearly, Kubo had some very particular reason to choose the kanji he did...

Of note in this, the release call, “Tenjou[天照] Issen[一閃]” translating as “Heaven Flash,“ doesn’t use the usual kanji for Tenjou[天上] meaning literally “Heaven Above” it uses the kanji for Amaterasu[天照] the Japanese progenitor sun goddess.  I bring this up because the Bi[毘] in Kinpika actually most readily returns the full name, Bishamonten[毘沙門天], the Japanese version of the Buddhist god, Vaiśravaṇa[वैश्रवण].  And I think the two references to gods, as well as the Qilin, are the relevant link here...

(I’m just gonna yoink these off their respective wikipedia pages instead of trying to summarize it in my own words...)

In Japan, Bishamonten (毘沙門天), or just Bishamon (毘沙門) is thought of as an armor-clad god of warfare or warriors and a punisher of evildoers – a view that is at odds with the more pacific Buddhist king described above. Bishamon is portrayed holding a spear in one hand and a small pagoda in the other hand, the latter symbolizing the divine treasure house, whose contents he both guards and gives away. In Japanese folklore, he is one of the Japanese Seven Gods of Fortune.

So there’s spears like Kinpika, and treasure like gold, and then the punishing of evil like...

According to Taoist mythology, although they can look fearsome, qilin only punish the wicked, thus there are several variations of court trials and judgements based on qilin divinely knowing whether a defendant was good or evil, and guilty or innocent, in ancient lore and stories

There’s also some stuff I could say about the Shiten’nou[四天王] “Four Heavenly Kings” that Bishamon is a part of and its role in Japanese pop culture, but these two turned out a lot longer than I expected... this'll need a part 2...

In the meantime, here’re all the other name breakdowns I’ve done thus far:

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]