#I had invent a new world because I didn’t want to work out the real world maths

[mycological-mariner]

I can finally finish writing what I actually enjoy writing about (the made-up people who have been living in my head for 9 years)

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Female or GN Wonka!Reader x Buddha, Loki, Jack, Tesla, Hercules and platonic Zerofuku (Based off the newest Wonka movie, if you hadn’t seen it you can ignore this!)

She’s quirky, eccentric, and described by everyone who met her as a chocolate making genius who relishes in nonsense, creating unique, flavorful and exotic chocolates that can give people a boost in confidence, grow hair, multiple alcoholic drinks in one, dancing, flying in the air and helping people see the bright side if they’re having a bad/rainy day

She’s famous throughout Valhalla for her chocolates, and her magical tricks to give others joys and all at the lowest price so everyone can enjoy and buy her chocolate, but after entering the afterlife she didn’t really see why money was important so she basically gives her chocolates away for free

(Love) had to stop her from doing that since everyone is crazy over her chocolates (He does think the low prices are fine since she wants everyone to be happy)

She rightfully earned her place in Valhalla not as a warrior, but from all the people she helped on earth, to saving and helping romantic relationships bloom, helping her friends get their freedom, uncover and reveal criminal activity and helping everyone in direct or indirect ways with her chocolates

Buddha is basically in TRUE paradise when he entered her chocolate factory and saw the chocolate landscape (So was Zerofuku, as he has stars in his eyes seeing all the chocolates)

Though everyone did a double take when she explained to them her ‘Nemesis’ who steals her chocolates at the dead of night (The Oompa Loompa) until they actually met him, because they didn’t think he was real

I haven’t seen the new movie, but I will use the original movie and the book for inspiration for this!

-You remember when they would call you mad, calling you a dreamer and a fool for your inventions, until one day they weren’t, then you were a genius, a magician, a wonder on earth for your creations.

-Your chocolates and creations took the world by storm, bringing joy to all around you, their smiles were your smiles…until you lost your smile when competitors tried to steal your ideas, wanting your fame and glory for their own.

-That’s why you hid away, locking yourself in your factory, making your creations carefully, so none could ever recreate them, and you watched their smiles from the safety of your factory, of your home.

-When you passed, arriving in your youth, in your prime as you were later told, arriving in Valhalla, you had been rather confused as to why you came to a place where heroes, warriors, and gods called home.

-You were regarded as a warrior in your own right, as you fought for the happiness of others, working hard and training, just so you could make the world so happy.

-Valhalla was different for you, you didn’t have to hide yourself away in your factory, you got to go out, meet new people, new friends, introducing those who had never had the pleasure of tasting chocolate, to chocolate!

-You creations were whimsical and awe inspiring, even to the gods who had never seen delicacies like yours before, all while tasting like a dream at the same time.

-Seeing the smiles on the faces of those who tried your treats brought you so much joy and happiness, it was like all those years ago, where you shared smiles with others.

-When you decided to start providing factory tours, you had no idea that so many wanted to come! It was almost overwhelming, but heartwarming at the same time to see so many wanting to visit your factory.

-So, to handle the large crowds, you handed out so many tickets per day, with the dates and times that they were to return so your factory wouldn’t be overrun.

-That’s what led you to your newest group of the day, Buddha, Loki, Jack, Nikola, Hercules, and Zerofuku, who were the lucky ticket holders for today!

-You met them all outside the factory, a bright and warm smile on your face as you removed your hat, “Gentlemen! A pleasure to see you all again! Come, lots to see and lots to taste!”

-Zerofuku cheered, running to catch up with you, taking your free hand which made you smile as they all entered the main lobby, which had display cases of all the different types of treats you had made over the years, back on Earth, showcasing your history.

-Hercules was smiling, looking at an Everlasting Gobstopper, “I’ve never seen a candy like this before. It’s so unique!”

-You just grinned warmly, letting them look around at the cases, “That’s one that I don’t make any longer. Back on earth, so many tried to steal it and replicate it, so it’s a little bittersweet to admit that I stopped making them.”

-Jack was surprised, hearing about the attempted thefts, “Did you ever go to the authorities?” you sent him a grin, turning on him this time, as you walked backwards, showing your quirky personality, “I did, but after being told too many times that ‘we don’t got time to worry about stolen candy’, I made my recipes impossible to recreate, and like the Everlasting Gobstopper, I just stopped making them.” Your voice had gone up in pitch, making fun of the police who had done nothing to help you.

-Once they were all ready to move on, you had them all wash their hands at the provided sinks before a massive door that had your logo on it, “Gentlemen, what you will see behind these doors…well… enjoy~”

-As the doors opened, revealing your massive room that looked like everything was made out of sweets and chocolate, eyes went wide and their mouths fell open, they had never anticipated anything like this!!

-You led the group in before twirling to face them with a big smile, “Everything in this room is edible my friends, so enjoy!”

-Buddha and Zerofuku fell to their knees, openly crying, completely stunned by the heaven they had just entered, which did make you and the others all laugh, seeing their shock as Loki took a picture, grinning brightly.

-Nikola had immediately ran out, not to try any of the sweets, but he wanted to know the science behind your creations, immediately going into research mode.

-Jack and Hercules took their time going down, both feeling a little intimidated by what they were seeing, it was like walking into a dream, but it was real, everything was created by you!

-Loki, Buddha, and Zerofuku, after getting over their shock, were like little kids, rushing into the room, looking around and trying things.

-You couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Buddha gnawing on a chocolate tree like he was a beaver, chocolate shavings flying out from all sides. Zerofuku hadn’t been paying attention and tripped, falling on top of a giant mushroom, but upon closer inspection, it was a giant marshmallow.

-Loki was just flying around, tasting a little bit of everything, no two things tasted the same, sending his taste buds on a journey as he joined Buddha and Zerofuku in getting a sugar rush.

-You wandered around, seeing their bright smiles, Jack was enjoying a cup of hot tea out of cups that were made of blown sugar, as he had taken a bite out of it once he finished the tea, “It’s not as sweet as I was expecting it to be. And I’ve never seen blown sugar like this, it’s exquisite!”

-Hercules was enjoying himself, walking around, eating a chocolate branch he had pulled off a nearby tree, wanting to see more of the room, “This is amazing Y/N! how do you come up with this stuff?” you just beamed, giving him a friendly wink, “Let your imagination run wild and don’t let anyone try to limit you!”

-You had been walking by before Nikola ran out, his eyes wide, as if he had gotten into your espresso chocolate flowers and put his hands on your shoulders and just started rambling off question after question, not blinking, looking so elated to see something so new! He wanted to get his other scientist friends and bring them here so they could see all this too!!

-They were amazed by your factory as you herded them to the next area, showing them where all the chocolate in your factory starts, the different machines that help streamline the candy making process, as well as testing areas where you were testing new products.

-Loki volunteered to try a new line of adult only chocolates, with booze, and he only had one and was instantly smashed, being carried by Hercules as the others were all laughing as you wrote that down, “Too strong, I need to adjust that. Here Loki!”

-He smiled down at you, seeing you holding up another piece of candy to him, “Y/N you’re so nice~~ I loves you~ all three of yous!” You laughed warmly as he took the candy, a reversal chocolate that helped with his intoxication, almost immediately returning to normal, just looking a bit woozy, asking what had happened.

-Your factory and your imagination were both so beautiful, it was amazing, and you were willing to share that with all of them as well as the others in Valhalla. After all, their smiles were your smiles.

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY | PART ONE : CHAPTER ONE

pairing: jake sully x human!fem!reader

summary: in which the story starts and finds you in a place of malevolence. a reluctant return to hell's gate leads you to meeting jake sully

warnings: none!

word count: 3.6k

author's note: finally posting this! there's no schedule for how i'm going to release these but i hope to be at least consistent! just no demanding me to post the next chapter or to finish, that doesn't help much with writing. anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

italics is speaking in na'vi

AO3 | masterlist | next

Powder covered your hands by the time the radio next to you came to life. Last time that radio came on, Dr. Grace Augustine had, very heatedly, called on you to fix one of the link units. Some genius had thought it was a good idea to kick at it in anger, knocking a few wires loose. Didn’t do any real damage but that guy never slipped into another link unit again. He’d have Grace to thank for that. And his temper.

That had been months ago. You hadn’t been back in Hell’s Gate since then.

Surprisingly enough, it was Trudy. “Hey, Doc. Mind comin’ to look at one of the computers in the lab? I think one of those science geeks broke a monitor or somethin’.”

Without looking up from your work, you reply, “Then buy a new one. My job is to fix shit, not consult about some stupid monitor.”

There were muffled voices further away as the radio cut in and out a few times. Seconds later, Trudy finally spoke again, “Uh, my bad, it’s not a monitor. It’s some….uh…power box, I guess. Glitched out on the geeks, now they don’t have power in a few of the computers.”

It took a moment for you to respond. Both because of the weak radio signal in the middle of the forest and because you had to take a few moments to program your newly robotic arm helper to finish off your new invention, which you had been working on for nearly half a year now. Project Pandora is what you called it.

“Trudy,” you finally say, picking up the radio and pushing the chair away from the desk and toward the small window on the other side of the little space, “why are you, a pilot no less, asking me about computers in a lab?”

There is a hesitant silence on the other end. But after listening closely, you realized there was another muffled conversation going on further away, one that the radio couldn’t really pick up.

Eventually, Trudy’s voice reached the radio again. “I told you she’d see right through it.” It sounded as if she was talking to someone and that someone was muttering something further away from the radio. Trudy sighed before continuing, “Look, Doc. I’m gonna be blunt with you. Parker’s too much of a pussy to do it himself so he got me in here to reach you.”

You clicked your tongue, “Why am I not surprised.”

“He’s scared of you.”

“More than Grace?”

There were louder muffles, almost audible if not for the static from the radio. “Parker wants you back at the gate…and to tell you that he’s not scared of you.”

After a while, the radio finally cut off and you sat there. Outside the little window was the forest of Pandora, your view for the past few months. And really, you would like to keep it that way from now on. Being away from Hell’s Gate has brought you a sense of peace and a sense of forgetting. Although, the forgetting was harder said than done.

No matter what you did, there was nothing that could make you forget what these humans were doing to Pandora, what they planned to do, what they already had done. It was a bunch of bullshit really. The RDA complained that they weren’t making any progress with the Na’vi, the people of  Pandora, while at the same time attacking them and threatening to take over the land by wiping out the indigenous.

You had come here to learn about this species and quite possibly one day live among them, not take over. Which is why you separate yourself from Hell’s Gate after the incident. But it seemed no matter what you did to keep away from them, somehow you were always brought back in.

It had to be him behind it. That man was stubborn enough to keep you in his control just as you were stubborn enough to find any way to stay far away from that place.

“Doc?” Trudy’s voice came in through the radio. With a frown, you looked back at your robotic arm and the invention, deep in thought. “You there?”

With a sigh, you replied, “There’s no other engineers up there? Mechanics?”

“Most of them are workin’ on those AMPs. Parker wants you. The best of the best, you know?”

You frown, “Doesn’t sound as great as it did years ago.”

“Don’t think too much about it. You’ll be in and out. Then you’ll get to go back to your little lab in the woods and stay secluded like the hermit that you are.” Trudy teased in an attempt to lighten your mood. And you did try to smile at the joke, just a little bit, but the thought about going back, about stepping your foot back into that place, somehow he’d win.

“I could say no.” You try, even though you were getting up and sliding your boots on. “Tell him to find some other unfortunate engineer to do his shit.”

“You could.” Trudy agreed. “That would definitely make Parker pop a vein. But if we sent in someone else that isn’t you, it sure as hell wouldn’t get done quickly or right. So there’s that.”

“Hmm, I’d say let them rot.” You grumble as you grab your mask and place it on your face.

Trudy laughed on the other end as you stepped out of the lab. The air was fresh on your skin but poisonous to your lungs. Still, it did feel somewhat nice stepping out of your stuffy lab for once. Being surrounded by beautiful forest. The beauty of Pandora still never failed to amaze you despite your grim attitude as of lately. There was something so special about this planet, something you never felt on your home planet, Earth.

You just wished the circumstances were different.

“You’re a genius, Doc.” Parker praised as you closed the power box.

“Is that all?” You asked dryly, rolling your sleeve back down as you began leaving the dark room.

The administrator followed after you as you sauntered through the halls, ready to go back to the forest and your private lab. “Yeah, well, I believe that should be all. I knew you could do it the best too, my guys are useless when it comes to this stuff.”

“Stop kissing ass, Selfridge.” Both you and Parker turned to find Grace waltzing down the hall toward the two of you. A smirk was on her lips when her eyes landed on you. “Tinkers! Never thought I’d see you come out of your little hole. How long has it been? Three? Four months?”

Despite where you were, you gave a small smile, “Hi Grace.”

Parker excused himself immediately much to your relief, going back to his usual spot, which was overseeing all the link units of the Avatar Program. You raised your brows at how quickly he left but you figured it was mostly because he didn’t want to hear Grace go on and on about the beauties of Pandora. Parker was the type of guy who only cared about what profited him the most. And the last thing he wanted to hear was how innocent everything was. Would make him lose track of the most important goal.

And for that, you despised that man. Parker must’ve sensed your dislike for him and found it intimidating, especially when it came to calling on you for favors such as fixing an electric power box.

Behind her were three other men. One of which you knew by Dr. Patel, the other two you guessed were new.

Grace crossed her arms, not bothering to introduce the two other males behind her as she spoke in a lowered voice, “Coming back this time around?”

You shook your head, “No. Just here for a small fixer upper. I should be heading back soon actually.”

“You sure?” Grace then gestured to the two behind her, giving you an exasperated look, “Could really use someone familiar out there. To the land and the people.” You didn’t respond right away which the scientist noticed. “Forget about Quaritch, you know you want to get back out there. Your avatar’s waiting—”

“Who's the newbies?” You addressed Dr. Patel, earning a glare from Grace at your efforts of quickly changing the conversation. It was something you definitely weren’t going to discuss here and especially in front of the new people who were watching the two of you a little too closely for your liking.

Dr. Patel smiled at you in greeting before gesturing to the two other men. “This is Norm Spellman, our new biologist for the team. Fellas, this is Dr. Y/N L/N, our best engineer at RDA.”

The tall lanky one stepped forward and offered his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, I’ve actually heard a lot about your work here. Well, your mother’s work, I should say.” Grace rolled her eyes as you tried not to wince at the mention of your mother. But of course, Norm didn’t notice and kept going, “Also, very sorry for your loss. Your mother was a brilliant mind, the best of our kind—”

“Alright, Spellman.” Grace gave him a pointed look before nodding over to the man in the wheelchair, “You remember Tom Sully? Well, this is his worse half, Jake Sully. He’s unfortunately replacing Tom in the program.”

“Thank you for that, Gracie.” Jake retorted just as quickly.

“Fuck off.” Grace glared and nudged your side. “Ignore him, I do.”

Yes, you did hear about this. Tom’s unfortunate death led them to scramble for a quick replacement. You never met Tom yourself so you never had much of an attachment to him. Neither did Grace but you could tell that wasn’t the only thing annoying her. If you had to guess, Jake was probably drastically different from his late brother and Grace didn’t have much patience for that.

Still, you offered him a kind smile. “Ma’am.” He nodded to you, offering his own hand which you shook.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sully.” You glanced from a pensive Grace to Jake. “I imagine you know a lot about the program similar to your brother.”

Jake tilted his head, “I watched a Netflix special once.”

Grace scowled, Dr. Patel coughed to cover a smile, and Norm shifted on his feet awkwardly, watching the two of them.

You found yourself grinning for the first time in a while., “I don’t know, Augustine. I kind of like him. “

Grace rolled her eyes, “Whatever. We’re heading over to the link units. It’s about time the two of you get acquainted with your avatar form.” She then addressed you but in Na’vi surprisingly. “And when will you bring out yours? Don’t try to change the subject this time, Tinkers.”

Feeling Jake’s curious and confused gaze on the two of you, you answer in a quick hiss, “Drop it.” Then you turned to Jake and smiled, “S’ nice to meet you, Mr. Sully—”

“Jake.” He nodded toward you with a little smile of his own. “You can call me Jake.”

Your smile grew, “Alright, Jake. Welcome to Pandora.” She pointed at Grace with her thumb, “Don’t let her ruin the experience, yeah? She can be a little twitchy sometimes.”

“Go back to your hole, Tinkers!” Grace called over her shoulder as she continued down  the hall with Norm and Dr. Patel following after her.

“Right up your ass, Augustine!” You shot back with a smirk before sending Jake a wink.

Jake, despite his previous stoic expression, found himself grinning at you. “Nice to meet you, L/N.”

“Y/N.” You corrected, moving around him to head the opposite direction. “Or Doc, either way, don’t be so formal. Especially with me.”

He nodded, “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

With that, you watched as he rolled away in the direction the others went. Once the company was gone, your shoulders sagged a bit, slightly exhausted from the small interaction and because of the busy environment of Hell’s Gate as you made your way out of it.

Just as you were about to reach outside and grab your mask, one of the soldiers, Wainfleet, blocked your exit while sitting in one of those AMPs.

“Doc! Leaving so soon?” He grinned down at you.

“Move, dipshit.” You say bluntly, gripping the mask in your hands while glaring up at him.

He shrugged, grinning cockily down at her. “Can’t do that, Doc. Colonel heard you crawled out of your little hole you’ve been hiding in the past few months. He wants to see you.”

“Tell him to eat shit, ya know, like in all the messages I replied to.”

When you tried going around him, he stepped in your way, aggravating you more.

“Look, cupcake. We could either do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way, you go and see Colonel yourself or hard way I drag your tiny ass over there.”

At this point, the more you gripped at the mask, the more it was possible it could break in your grasp. So you hooked your mask back onto your belt, seething eyes never leaving Wainfleet. It was possible to shut down the AMPs in your current height. You’d done it before but it was with someone who lacked experience controlling those things.

Wainfleet on the other hand was often training himself in them, which would lead to a more difficult and quite possible deadly attempt at escape.

Which meant, unfortunately, you didn’t have much of a choice.

With your dignity burying itself into the ground, you followed Wainfleet further into the Armor Bay where multiple more AMPs were lined up along with the ships and planes the pilots controlled.

When you arrived at the small gym room where Quaritch was currently benching, Wainfleet left you alone but you didn’t move to further enter the room. All you did was scowl and stand in the doorway with crossed arms, waiting for him to acknowledge you.

And you knew he knew you were there.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to talk again.” Quaritch finally said, putting down the weights as he sat up. He grabbed a towel next to him and began wiping the sweat off his sweat. “Are you finally done with your tantrum?”

He wanted you to snap, rise to the provoking. But you remained silent, your jaw clenching just a bit as your eyes narrowed in on him. Quaritch was watching you closely as well, probably waiting for you to react.

“Ah, the silent treatment. Guess I should’ve expected that too.” He threw the towel to the side before looking up at you with a smirk. “Thought you made a vow never to set foot in here again. Made a whole dramatic scene about it too—”

“What do you want?” You ask simply.

Quaritch now scowled at your indifference or rather rebellion, you couldn’t really tell. “I want you to get your act together. I don’t have time for you throwing fits like a child because you don’t get your way. This is a mission, Doc, and your job is to—”

“My job was to help the people.” You hissed, stepping only a few feet into the room. “To build a connection with them. That was your orders. That’s what you asked me to do. And what does the RDA do? Fuck it all up by shooting a bunch of Na’vi, leaving them for dead!”

Quaritch rolled his eyes, “You’re still on that?”

You seethed, “You don’t even understand what you did! You would think thinking smartly would crossed your thick fucking skull—”

“That’s enough from you!” He barked in his Colonel voice. “Disrespect me like that again and I will boot you right off of this planet as fast as I got you on it, you hear me?”

“Do it then.” You challenged, hands shaking from anger. “You’ve had plenty of times to get rid of me. If you find me so much of a problem, why am I still here?”

You half expected him to keep shouting at you, yell at you into submission like he does his subordinates. But instead, Quaritch chuckled as he stood up. “Moments like this, you remind me of your father. Good man, acted just like you. Which was what made him the best soldier. Which made him a good captain.”

He was changing the conversation, he was trying to have power over you without being forthright about it. He had done this before whenever you tried arguing, it was his way of shutting you down without getting into a fight.

“You’re a smart cookie, Doc. And I know you’re smart enough to realize your value to this team. To the program.” He flashed his white teeth at you. “You and I both know I can’t get rid of you that easily. And I won’t. I made a vow after all.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering just where this conversation was going. Every time he brought up that damned vow it usually was followed by something for her to do. A favor. Something to keep her distracted.

“So let’s put the whole past to rest—”

“I rather not—” Quaritch cut you off just as fast as you did.

“And focus on the current future. Have you met Corporal Sully?”

You frown, suddenly remembering Jake’s charming smile. “What, he’s your new little puppet now?”

Quaritch wasn’t phased by the comment as he sat back down on the bench, “He’s got promise that kid. I tasked him to get to know the Na’vi people and learn their ways, to gain information for me.” You scoffed in disbelief as he continued. “Since you’re so well versed in their culture, I want you to give him some pointers. A tutor if you will.”

“Like hell I will—”

“And yes, you can decline.” Quaritch began lifting the weights again, “And then the RDA can take your little secluded lab away, destroying everything you’ve worked on. I’m sure that would be smart.”

This was where you had to control yourself. Your reaction. Your anger. You remembered a certain project that you were just nearly done with. Something you had been working on dedicatedly ever since the incident. If Quaritch or any of the RDA were to discover it, you were sure you would be exiled back to Earth.

Or quite possibly killed.

“What do you say, kid?” Quaritch noticed your silence.

With a scowl, you gritted out, “Fine.”

From the bench, the Colonel grinned, “Good girl! Now we can really get to work!” He placed the weight back down and stood, “Let’s go tell Sully the good news.”

When arriving in the link room, you lingered behind while Quaritch approached one of the link beds that was just opening. Jake happened to be in that one as he sat up, immediately spotting the Colonel walking toward him.

“Sir.” Jake greeted, briefly glancing your way for a moment longer before turning back to the Colonel.

Quaritch nodded in greeting and gestured to you, “I assume you’ve already met, Dr. L/N, the best of the best in the Avatar Program.”

“What do you want, Quaritch?” Grace cut in as she pushed open her own link bed. She noticed the angered look on your face and raised her brows, silently questioning you.

“She’s going to be showing the ins and outs of the Na’vi, she’ll give you some pointers to better prepare yourself for the program.” Quaritch winked as he clapped his hand on your shoulder. “You do best following her lead, might keep you alive, Corporal.”

Jake nodded, eyes alight, “Will do, sir.”

Quaritch’s grip on your shoulder tightened, “Take care of our boy, will you, Doc.”

Carefully, you reply, “He’s in good hands…sir.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at you while Jake frowned, finally noticing your change in behavior compared to your earlier brighter demeanor.

Satisfied, Quaritch gave you another rough pat on your back before leaving you with Grace, Jake, and as soon as he came out of his link bed, Norm.

“Tinkers.” Grace brought your attention back to her. She gave you a meaningful look before speaking in Na’vi, “What happened?”

Instead of responding to her, you nodded toward the three with an impassive expression, “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

You needed some time away, to calm down, to reevaluate some things. If only you had left as quickly as you had planned to, none of this would have occurred. You wouldn’t be feeling so helpless right now as you stalked through the halls, practically glaring at everything around you. At this rate, you wished that bastard dropped you back on Earth. At least you would be far away from this shit.

“Hey, Doc!”

A part of you wanted to just keep going and ignore Jake Sully when he called for you. But you stopped anyway despite yourself and turned to find him rolling toward you.  He stopped a few feet away from you, frowning at your guarded behavior. “I know I’m not well informed about all of this the way you’d like but I’m sure I can catch on fast—”

“Let’s get one thing very clear, Sully. I know you’re working with Quaritch. I know you’re planning on lying to them, gaining information for him to use or whatever the hell he’s planning. I don’t want any part of it.” You shoved your hands into your pants pockets glaring at the surprised man. “You’ve aligned yourself with a dangerous man, Sully. I hope you understand what you’re doing here.”

Just as you turned to walk away, Jake called out to you again, “So is that your advice then? As my tutor?”

 “No. Not all of it.” You glanced over your shoulder at him and shrugged, “Try not to die, Jake.”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon

[cressidagrey]

Something good and right and real - Chapter 10

Summary:

Azriel had spent centuries believing that he of all people didn't deserve a mate. And if anything, the last three years had just galvinised that particular belief. And then he meets her.

The first time Oriana met Azriel, she thought that he reminded her of a skittish cat. Shy and a little bit broken. Good for him that she absolutely excelled in fixing the things around her.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Discussion of Mental Illness

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

“Anything else I need to be aware of?”  Rhys asked after their weekly meeting at the River House. 

It was Azriel and Rhys and Cassian, a reminder of time long past. Cassian shook his head. 

Which was Azriel’s opening.

“I need a break,” Azriel declared. 

Azriel telling Cassian and Rhys that he had thought of quitting his job and taking up Herbalism as a hobby probably would have resulted in fewer shocked faces. 

He didn’t care. 

The Lakehouse was coming along and he had plans, damnit. And for that, he needed a break. A few days off. Hopefully a week. 

“A break?” Rhys asked, sounding like he had never heard the word. 

“Yes. Cassian and Nesta took a week in the Illyrian steppes a few months ago. I want a break,” Azriel repeated evenly.

“You want a break,” Cassian repeated. “Did something happen?” his brother asked, sounding worried and Azriel just stared at him. 

After the whole Eris Vanserra fiasco from a few weeks ago, Cassian had mostly kept his mouth shut over whatever he thought was going on in Azriel’s romantic life. And Azriel was quite thankful for that. 

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I just need a break.”

“I have known you for 500 years and not once have you told us you need a break ,” Cassian said drily.

“Well, I do ,” Azriel responded sharply.  There had been often when he had needed a break and just kept on working because nobody thought about even offering him one and he wasn’t about to ask for it. But now he was asking, because he needed it and he wasn’t going to let anybody tell him that he couldn’t have it. 

If he hadn’t had a break outside of near-fatal injuries over the last 500 years, he probably earned one, right? 

(Suddenly Azriel realised that he should never mention that to a very specific person, because she would have thoughts about that.)

“I need a break,” he gentled his voice but he still stared down Rhys who just leaned back in his chair, mustering him. 

“So you need a break, Az,” Rhys said, a thread of amusement running through his voice. “When are you thinking of taking said break?” he asked.  

He thought about it for just a second.

“Next week,” Azriel blurted out. Next week. He could do it next week. It was as good a time as any. And the longer he waited, the more nervous he was going to be and…

“As long as no new war breaks out, you can have next week. For your break ,” Rhys said with some amusement. “Do you want the cabin?”

He appreciated the offer but the answer was a resounding no. 

“No, thank you.” He had plans. 

The High Lady, his shadows hissed. 

“Feyre Darling,” Rhys said in greeting as Feyre entered the room, draping herself over her mate’s lap.

“Am I interrupting anything?” She asked, making herself comfortable. He couldn’t help but watch, couldn’t help but yearn to have this for himself…

“Just Az telling us how he needs a break,” Rhysand said with a snort. “I think he’s getting soft,” he teased. 

“A break?” Feyre repeated curiously. “You deserve that,” she said earnestly. “Maybe go somewhere warm!” She suggested. 

“I already know where’ll be,” he promised, and then quickly changed the topic before anybody could suggest that he should go to Day Court and have Lucien and Elain host him. “Feyre, I was wondering…where did you get your table linens from?” He asked and Feyre just stared at him.

“The table linens?” She repeated like she wanted to make sure that she had understood his words correctly. 

“Yes. Table Linens. I need some.” 

“You need table linens?” Cassian repeated, sounding utterly aghast. 

“There’s this small shop at the rainbow called Clare’s. They have loads of different ones. Unless you mean the ones for huge celebrations then it’s in the Palace of Threads and Jewels,” Feyre answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Thank you,” he thanked her easily. 

“Planning on throwing some dinner parties?” Rhys asked drily but Azriel just ignored that.

No, he just needed some table linens. 

“I need to go. I have some table linens to buy,” he said instead

Ask Oriana if she wants lunch in an hour or so, he requested from his shadows. 

And now he was going to buy table linens for their house and maybe when he was already at it, whatever other textiles they needed. Like bedding or curtains…or effing tea towels. 

He had hundreds of years of pay banked because he never even had seen the need to spend it on anything. And now he did. 

He left Clare’s laden with a couple of bags and was surprised to find Cassian leaning against a building wall a few feet away from him, staring at him like he had sprouted horns. 

“Did Rhys put you up to it?” he asked, the tone of his voice icy and Cassian just stared at him.  

“What, no! Why should he do that?” Cassian asked him, sounding incredulous.  

Why did Rhys do anything?

“You tell me,” Azriel gave back. “If it’s not Rhys, then what are you doing here? I doubt you wanted to watch me shop for table linens.”

“You actually bought table linens?” Cassian asked him sounding incredulous. 

“Yes, of course, I bought some. Why do you think I asked Feyre to tell me where to go?” he gave back and then sighed.  “Cassian, do you actually care about that or did you think that me going to find table linens meant that I was going off to find the secret lover you are currently convinced I have for some cauldron-forsaken reasons?”

All the good mood he had had after spending far more money than what was reasonable on a white tablecloth, edged in delicate lace, was gone. 

“For cauldron’s sake Azriel, I am worried about you!” Cassian snapped and Azriel just stared at him. 

“Why?”

“Why?” Cassian parroted. “You don’t talk to me, or anybody, you don’t say anything, you disappear from family dinners and now you suddenly want a break! What’s going on?” Cassian demanded. 

Oh. 

He stayed quiet for a moment. 

It would be fair to tell Cassian. But if he told Cassian, everybody else would know. 

“What’s going on, Az? Come on, you know you can talk to me,” his brother badgered him.

He didn’t want to lie to him. But he also didn’t want to say the truth, because then fear had his heart in an ice-cold grip. 

“I know,” Azriel said quietly.”But right now, I was really just buying table linens.”

Cassian stared at him.

“I am not letting this go,” his brother warned him. A thin smile appeared on Azriel’s face. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he promised. 

He didn’t. 

Still, he was pretty sure that Cassian was going to be the first one who realised that something was going on with Azriel. And now it was just a question of time until he figured out what.

Cassian wasn’t stupid. Azriel would even argue that in matters of the heart, Cassian was the most intelligent of them all.

He finally managed to get rid of him only with the promise of a sparring match the next morning…and the fact that he had a very important lunch to get to.

He was quite sure that Cassian was now going to think that he was going to frequent one of the pleasure halls in the city, even when that still left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was ridiculous because it had nothing to do with the males or females that worked there and everything to do with…that one sentence that had been uttered to him.

Everything has to do with that. 

But there was no pleasure hall in his future because Oriana was waiting for him.

Oriana with her scent of a warm autumn hearth, though today it had oranges added to it.

“New perfume?” he wondered quietly as he snuck up at her in her forge, only daring to do that because she was reading something at her workbench and she leaned into him, book forgotten. 

(If he did it while she was working on something his ears would be ringing with a lecture.)

“Actually yes. Got a new one,” she answered with a grin. “Smells good?” 

He inhaled deeply. It did. But then everything smelled good as long as it was together with Oriana’s scent of warmth and fire, as far as he was concerned. 

“Yes,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he hooked his chin over her shoulder, his hands settling on her hips. 

As long as he could just stay right there…everything was alright in his life.

“I have next week off work,” he said softly, cataloguing every single one of her reactions. If she was hesitant or pulled back or wasn’t ready then he wasn’t going to push this. He could wait. 

He had waited 500 years for her. He could wait even longer. 

But all that happened was Oriana laying away the book she had been paging through and then turning in his arms. 

She leant up and pressed a lingering kiss right to the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes?” she asked, her voice soft. “Does that mean we…” she didn’t end the sentence, because he couldn’t help himself. 

Azriel couldn’t help himself and instead pulled her into another kiss, this one everything but gentle and lingering. 

He didn’t want to…he wanted her to be his. In every damn way Azriel could get away with, he wanted Oriana to be his. To be with him. 

He wanted to kiss her and touch and learn every noise that she made if he did something that she liked. 

Just like now. 

He kissed her, his mouth pressing against hers and he licked deep into her mouth, her whole body seemingly melting against his, her scent growing heavier and filled with desire as he took everything he could, as he plundered her mouth like she kept the riches of the continent there, a hand still curled possessively around her hip, another across her back. 

He let off her as she gasped for breath only to continent to kiss down her neck, all the skin now easily accessible for him. 

Since she had taken off that fucking necklace, he couldn’t help but stare at her throat, free and delicate…and so he kissed down her neck and then across her throat, just letting a ghost of his teeth rasp against her skin. 

The shudder that Oriana gave, the gasp that left her mouth as he touched her…he wanted to bottle it up. 

But then he realised that he didn’t need to. He would get to have all of it. Every single one as soon as they finally were alone at the Lakehouse and had a whole week of doing nothing but…

“Yes,” he finally managed to get out hoarsely. “We can do that.”

Her eyes were glittering with flames as she looked at him, her lips kiss swollen and she pulled him towards her, pressing another kiss against his lips. 

“We will.” It was a heady promise in these words. 

More than that even. 

A vow. 

“But before we do that…” she trailed off and he groaned, pulling back. He could already imagine what this was about. 

“Sorry, but we’re having dinner with Cyrus and Briony this evening,” she told him, sounding not apologetically in the slightest. 

“You are cruel,” he told her drily. His blood had cooled, his desire banked, and Oriana just snorted. 

“We had an agreement,” she sing-songed. 

They did. 

And if that agreement meant that he needed to make nice with her family that evening, then so be it. 

He had already met Cyrus after all. 

And while Oriana’s brother still mustered him with a mixture of ill-concealed interest and hesitance, his wife, Briony, a high fae with dark brown hair and matching eyes, greeted him with a smile. 

And then he really wasn’t interesting anymore, because three children came barreling down the hallway, Oriana’s youngest nieces and nephew, Sienna, Finley and Rory. 

“Auntie Ori!” 

“If you ever call me that, I’ll kill you,” Oriana hissed at him, dumping her casserole dish in his arms, before she went down to her knees to envelope Finley and Rory into a bear hug.

Somehow the idea of Oriana, with her perfect dresses and pinned-up hair being reduced to Auntie Ori, who sat on the floor with the kids and played with them…somehow that was the most charming version of her he had yet gotten to meet. 

Even better than her with soot all over her after a long time in the forge. 

“Let’s leave them to it, we’ll get them back by the time we serve dinner,” Cyrus said drily. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but the oldest, Sienna, beat him to it. 

“Auntie Ori, who is that?” she asked, staring at him with the same black eyes that Oriana had if they weren’t in flames. 

“That’s Azriel,” Oriana anwered. “He’s my mate.”

“He has wings,” Finley tried to whisper and failed so badly at that that Azriel bit back a smile at it. 

Still, both of her nieces stared at him with some mixture of awe and… something that he couldn’t quite place. 

He was also pretty sure that the assuring smile he tried to put on his face looked more like a grimace than anything else. 

And then Rory, the youngest, just two, came toddling over, tugged at his trouser legs and held up his arms in the universal sign of wanting to be picked up. “Up!” he piped up demandingly.

Right. 

Oriana bit back a smile, silently laughing at him and he just glared at her, before he picked up the little boy. 

He had lifted Nyx plenty of times after all. This couldn’t be that much different. Especially as Rory didn’t have any wings he needed to be careful with. 

Rory happily settled in his arms, sticking his thumb in his mouth and that was that then. 

“Are you going to marry him?” Sienna asked pointedly and Oriana had Finley on her hip, brushing her niece’s hair out of her eyes as she let them into the dining room. 

“He’s my mate. That’s just as good as being my husband,” she answered that question, sidestepping something that he knew was a …sore point of sorts for her. 

He highly doubted that there ever would be a time in her life when she would be ready and willing to get married again. Not after how her first marriage had ended. 

But to be honest…that was fine for Azriel If he got her as his mate…that was all he needed. Maybe one day in the future, he would like her to wear some piece of jewellery that made it obvious that she was his…but she wore his shadows like a bracelet every day. So really, that was all the visible sign of their relationship that he needed. 

Just like now, they were curled over her wrist, tugged between a myriad of bracelets that she wore every day, every single one holding another enchantment, her life’s work and family ties there for everybody who bothered to take a closer look. 

And his shadows were right there between that. 

“Can he talk?” Finley asked at that moment, still mustering him like he was a very interesting puzzle and he bit back a grin at that question. 

“I can,” he promised her, and she squeaked in response, brown skin reddening.

Cyrus seemed struggling to hold back the laughter at the whole interaction a he took Rory from him and settled him at the table. 

“Can you fly?” Finley blurted out next. So it was going to be that kind of evening. 

“I can,” he told her. “I learned that from when I was very young.”

“Is it scary?” Sienna asked him. “Can you fly really high?” 

And like that, it continued. 

Clearly, the most interesting thing about him was his wings. And because he belonged to Auntie Ori, he wasn’t that scary.

The Spymaster of the Night Court was humbled quite quickly by three younglings. 

It was startling as much as it was nice. 

***

She quite liked seeing Azriel with her family. 

He seemed utterly terrified that the kids were going to be terrified of him and somehow that made the whole thing even better. 

Still after an initial hesitation from the older two, they warmed up pretty quickly to him. Though Enya was definitely their aunt because their obsession with Azriel’s wings was as adorable and at least as strong as their aunt’s. 

Still, as adorable as him meeting her family was…the more heartbreaking was meeting his. 

They went to Rosehall on what Azriel had been reassured by Eira, a shadow-wraith that kept his mother company, was a good day. 

Azriel pulled her through his shadows that day. One day she had been in her apartment, by now pretty much empty, because Azriel’s week was starting the next day…and the next she stumbled into the Illyrian steppes, her stomach turning and forcing herself to take a deep breath. 

Azriel caught her weight easily and and let her lean against his chest as she caught her breath.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, concern obvious but she waved him off. 

That had been disconcerting. 

She had thought learning how to winnow was disconcerting, which she had only done by the time she was 150 years old and had a very good grasp on her power levels…but this…

For a moment it had felt like darkness was going to swallow her whole. 

The only thing that had stopped her from screaming in terror had been the fact that she had known that the Darkness was Azriel’s. And she trusted him. 

Still. 

“I thought flying was bad the first time, but this is worse,” she breathed, his shadows worriedly swirling around their feet. 

“Need a moment?” he asked and she nodded, breathing in deeply. No more darkness. The sun was shining.

Another breath, then another. 

She finally managed to step back from him, even when he kept hold of her hand and she finally managed to take in their surroundings. 

There stood a charming little cottage on a hill. If she had thought that the Lakehouse seemed like it belonged in a fairytale, well, then this little cottage belonged in a folk tale. Complete with wreathed iron gates that Azriel pulled her through. She felt the moment the wards he had magically placed around the cottage welcomed her in and made the mental note to make a warding net for this house as well. 

It was Azriel’s mother. Important to him, somebody that he doted on and if that made his life even just a little bit better…then Oriana wanted to do everything in her power to make this easier for him. 

They walked down the path, and in the blink of an eye, a faerie stood in front of them. Oriana felt her heart in her throat as she blinked at the wraith in front of her. 

Shadow wraith the look after, just so passing middle age. 

“Eira,” Azriel greeted her and she smiled at him, her form turning more corporal. He could see that. Half-wraith, Oriana corrected her initial assumption. “How is she?”

“It’s a good day, just like I said,” Eira responded, smiling at him before she turned dark eyes onto Oriana. “Who did you bring with you?”

“Eira, Oriana, my mate,” Azriel responded. “Eira lives here with my mother,” he explained. “She helps take care of her.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Oriana said quietly, offering her hand. The older female took it with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Eira responded. “We don’t have many visitors up here,” she explained. “Has Azriel warned you?” she asked him and Oriana’s eyebrows rose.

“Warned me?” she echoed. 

“About Esmerya,” Eira clarified. “She’s…We don’t know how she is going to react to you,” Eira explained. “There aren’t many new people she has met. The last one has been me, to be honest,” Eira admitted. “She very rarely gets violent, but it has happened,” Eira said quietly. “It’s more like her to shut down completely. In both cases, leaving would be your best bet,” Eira explained. 

Oriana swallowed. 

Azriel had told her that his mother’s mind was fractured, but she hadn’t really thought much about it unless it was to wonder how much utter misery her mate had lived through. 

“If she does, I am there. I am not going to let her hurt you,” Azriel said quietly. 

And then he would spend days if not months feeling horrible for hurting his mother to protect her. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get that bad,” Oriana said.  

“It’s going to be fine,” Azriel muttered, but Oriana wondered who he was telling that to. It probably wasn’t her. 

Eira turned to enter the house and Azriel let go of her hand as they stepped through the front door. It was small but welcoming. 

“Welcome to Rosehall,” Eira said quietly. 

Oriana stood still next to the wraith as she watched Azriel cross the room. 

Suddenly he looked younger than she had ever seen him as he joined a female Illyrian who was sitting at the window, spinning. 

There was no question that she was his mother. Even from feet away, Orian could see the same dark hair, the same proud nose. Hers was streaking with wide and Oriana took in the crippled wings that hung down her back. 

She couldn’t help but swallow, feeling nauseous. She had seen Azriel’s wings when they folded out to their massive size and she had heard of the Illyiran’s custom of “clipping” their female's wings but she had never…

She had never seen the result of it. 

“Ma? It’s me, Azriel,” Azriel said quietly, kneeling on the stone floor at his mother’s side. 

His head turned to him. No word was said. 

Oriana watched as a gnarled hand reached out for Azriel, cupping his cheek. 

“It’s me, Ma,” he assured her as she traced over his face, seemingly taking it all in. “Are you feeling alright?”

“It breaks your heart, every damn time,” Eira said softly and Oriana concentrated on the other female because she was quite sure otherwise she would have started crying. “He loves her so much and she…she loves him, I am sure she does, but she’s so far gone that…I don’t think she even knows who he is half the time,” Eira said softly. Oriana stole another glance at Azriel and his mother, at his soft talking to her, his tone of voice even. 

She didn’t react to anything he said. 

“What does she do most of the time?” Oriana asked quietly. 

“She tends to her garden…she spins… sometimes she cooks,” Eira recounts. “It’s a nice life here…there is a village not far away from here, but we learnt quickly that she is the happiest if she just stays here. So I go down to the village to get anything we need…I keep her company, but I have no idea how much she actually understands what is going on around her,” Eira said with a shake of her head. 

“It’s horrible. All we can do is make her comfortable and keep her a prisoner in this house and her garden because putting her anywhere else is just…she’s just terrified. He feels horrible about it, even when it’s all anybody could do and more than most sons would do,” Eira continued. “He tried to find somebody that could help her, but…I think her mind is so fractured that it’s impossible.”

It was horrible. For Esmerya, even when maybe she didn’t even realise what was going on…Oriana half hoped she didn’t. Maybe she was able to be content, even with a mind that was fractured into a million shards. And for Azriel to try to keep her safe and comfortable and content and like that kept her a prisoner here in Rosehall, because what else was he supposed to do? 

“You know, sometimes…If she cooks, all she makes is Illyrian flatbreads,” Eira said with a soft laugh. “She made a whole stack of them when I told her that he was coming.”

So maybe something…something was still there. 

“Ma, there is somebody I want you to meet. Is that alright?” Azriel said at that moment and Oriana waited for Esmeray to say something. 

She didn’t. 

“Oriana?” Azriel called softly. She took that as her cue to slowly cross the room, to step next to Azriel, who was still kneeling on the floor and hunker down next to him. 

“Ma, I would like you to meet Oriana. My Mate.”

Oriana wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

Azriel’s mother mustered her for a moment. Azriel had her eyes. The same hazel, speckled with green and gold. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Esmeray,” she offered quietly, not offering her hand because Azrie had waited until his mother reached out to touch him. 

Dark eyes still stared at her. Oriana held her gaze, unflinching. 

And then suddenly, his mother stood up from her chair and hobbled away. 

Oh. 

“That went well,” Azriel said, exhaling deeply. 

Oriana took his word for that.

She wasn’t quite sure what else she was supposed to say. 

“He’s right,” Eira said quietly, having watched the whole scene from the doorframe. “It did go well. She’ll be in the kitchen cooking. If you want to…” she trailed off. 

“Your choice,” Azriel said softly. “I know that she can be…disconcerting.”

That wasn’t the word Oriana would have chosen. 

She gained her feet, brushing folds from the light blue dress she wore and made her way to the kitchen, making sure to make noise while she did that. Azriel followed along, taking a seat at a small table underneath a window overlooking the garden. 

It was a beautiful work of art, that garden, filled with the Roses that gave Rosehall its name. 

Still, Oriana stayed standing up, watching Azriel’s other in the kitchen making…what she was quite sure was Illyrian Flatbreads. 

“I grew up in the mountains,” she said, most of her attention on Esmeray as she leaned against the counter next to her. She was making dough, flour and milk and butter and salt. “We have something similar there. Though we tend to wrap it around sticks and bake it over the fire,” Oriana recounted. “My mother is Tartera. My father was a High Fae of the autumn court.”

The last thing she had expected was for one bony hand to wrap around her wrist as she said the last words. 

She could feel more than hear Azriel moving. She pushed against the bond that was curling itself in her chest. 

Stop. Give her a moment. 

She didn’t try to get out of Azriel’s mother’s hold. She just held her breath. 

It wasn’t a painful grasp. Not even when Esmeray tugged at her wrist until she followed along. 

She let her go, divided the dough into two and put one in front of Oriana. 

“You want me to knead the dough?” she asked, not getting an answer. 

For lack of a better idea, she copied the movements of the older female. 

Clearly, it was what she had wanted. 

So Oriana continued talking. “I have 5 siblings, 3 brothers and 2 sisters. I am the youngest. I used to work as an enchantress. Nowadays I am mostly a goldsmith…”

And on and one she went as the dough went together and was placed in the oven, Oriana concentrated on the tightly banked fire underneath and let it flare up just slightly…as she pulled it out, not even bothering with gloves because it wouldn’t do anything to her anyway. 

They sat at that crickety old table and ate Illyrian flatbreads that were dunked in something with the consistency of a thick stew. 

“I met your son at the market one day. The mating bond snapped in place for both of us immediately,” she said as she cleaned her plate. “I want you to know that I love Azriel.”

She couldn’t help his mother, couldn’t help her with regaining her sense of being or the pain that she must have gone through for this to be the result…but she could…at least do this. 

Her mouth wrapped around the words that she had heard hundreds of times. 

“I’ll love him in this life and beyond. I will not try to change him in any way. I will respect him and his beliefs, his people and his ways as much as I’ll respect myself,” she vowed. “I’ll protect him to the best of my abilities. His fights are my own, his enemies are mine. I’ll lay down my life to protect his. And I’ll cherish him every day.” 

Esmeray made no appearance of even having heard Oriana. 

But Azriel had. Azriel wrapped her hand in his under the table, so tightly that it hurt. Azriel’s side of the bond bloomed with love, bright and warm. 

Azriel said nothing, but his adoration and love poured all over her. 

They stayed a little longer before finally they bid their goodbyes. 

Azriel’s face betrayed his surprise when his mother followed them to the door. “You’ll see us off?” He asked. 

She didn’t react but still followed along. 

They stepped outside the door, and Oriana watched her breathe in the early summer air…watched her smile as she touched one of the roses. For one moment it seemed like she came alive. 

She turned back around and held one of the Roses that grew along the house between her fingers. 

She held it out to Oriana. 

Bright Blue. Beautiful.

“Oh. Thank you,” Oriana said hesitantly as she took the flower. 

For a moment Esmerey smiled at her. Then she turned and walked back inside the house, humming off-key. 

Azriel stared at the flower in her hand, holding out his hand for her to take. 

She took it. 

It was no less disconcerting the second time, even when they resurfaced in the living room of the Lakehouse. 

Azriel held her up, pressed against his chest. 

“She has never given anybody one of her roses, you know? Not even me,” Azriel said with some amusement colouring his voice. “Who knows what is going on in her mind, but she likes you.”

She had no idea what to do with that. 

She felt the shudder running through Azriel and pulled back to find him staring at her, his hazel eyes seemingly so very green in the light of the setting sun falling through the window. 

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked her quietly. 

“What?” Oriana asked. What did he mean?  

“You said you love me,” Azriel said quietly. 

Her expression softened.  “Of course, I love you. You really think I would agree to mate with you if I didn’t?”

But as she saw his face,e she realised that he did. 

She wondered how often she would need to repeat these words until he believed them. 

“I love you,” she said once again. 

He stepped back and she let her hands fall because this…this hurt. Her fingers tightened over the rose as she carefully laid it on a side table as Azriel disappeared into the kitchen. 

She… she shouldn’t have said it. Cauldron only knew what Azriel was…

The sound of something banging something in the kitchen made her brows furrow and Azriel came back into view, a ceramic bowl with him. 

He crossed the room with quick steps like he was on a mission for something and then…

He dropped to his knees before her. 

“Azriel. What are you doing?” she breathed. What was this…

He put down the bowl between them, filled with blueberries that she had bought at the market.

“Be nice, please,” he muttered under his breath. 

Suddenly she had an idea what this was about. 

Her people offered jewellery. When her sister had been proposing marriage to Toron, she had offered him a ring. 

But Azriel wasn’t Tartera. 

Azriel was an Illyrian, even if he hated most of their violent traditions. 

And like that…like that, he offered her the knife that always was kept in a sheath on his thigh. 

He had other knives. More daggers than she could count. There were at least 3 always within easy reach for them. And he had kept one stashed away under his pillow whenever he had stayed the night. 

He had bought her knives. 

But he had never, never, not once…not once offered this knife to her. 

And now he held it out to her, on two flat hands. 

“You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone.” These were ancient words. She could hear that in every single syllable. “I give you my body, that we might be one. I give you my spirit, until our life is done.”

She could feel the bond flaring to life between them, that lovely golden thing that tied him to her and her to him. 

She was sure that there was a traditional answer to these traditional words. 

But she didn’t know it. 

So instead, she reached for the knife with her right hand, wrapping her fingers around the obsidian hilt, and for the bowl of blueberries with the other. 

She picked one up. 

Lifted it to his mouth. 

“I love you. I protect you. I cherish you.”

[alfgifu]

Fic analysis 7. Hands to the wheel

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47188921/chapters/118896205

Word count: 70,497

Chapters: 16

First posted: 16th May 2023

Last chapter up: 6th July 2023

Summary: 

The Last Emperor of Astandalas asked for peace. Cliopher Mdang travelled half way round the world of Zunidh to broker a ceasefire for him.

He may have, just slightly, exceeded his remit.

How and why this came about

The list of short follow up stories with a ‘where are they now’ theme included one for Lady Angusta and Lord Oriaz, a pair of bosses I had invented entirely to be bad at communicating with one another. I had in mind that this would be the Examination Scandal that’s referred to in the books, and I had also mentally joined the dots to a reference to Cliopher firing the entire Upper Secretariat.

Originally I’d planned to do a very short piece from Lady Angusta’s pov of her being fired. I thought I could keep it to one chapter, tick it off, and get on with my life.

By the time I got the blank page in front of me, though, I found that I was more interested in Cliopher’s view on the Examination Scandal. And Cliopher’s view on the aftermath of Littleridge. And also, how do you go from being the emperor’s new secretary to effectively running his government? That’s a big leap!

As an aside, the head of the UK civil service is the Chief Secretary to the Cabinet, and those appointed to it often have worked as Principal Private Secretary (PPS) and head of the PM’s Private Office before they get the appointment, but these are distinct roles. Victoria Goddard’s reference points would presumably be Canadian, where the head of the civil service is the Clerk of the Privy Council and is also described as secretary to the Cabinet. I’ve just been down a wee rabbit hole of recent post holders’ career histories and it looks like the pattern is a little different there. They’ve more frequently had ambassadorial and foreign policy experience.

Cliopher, Sayo Normal Man, seems to take on all these jobs at once.

Anyway the question of what might lead him to fire all of the Upper Secretariat - to even be in a position to fire all of the Upper Secretariat - was the real spur for this fic.

Then of course I went back to figure out how that started. I did at least this time have a reason for backtracking to do more build up - I really wanted to show how big the shift in power and authority was, and to fit in some of the early moments of recognition that must have happened between him and HR.

This was also written before Game of Courts which gives Conju’s perspective on some of these events, so like all of Embers it’s somewhat AU now on the friendship between Cliopher and Conju.

What worked and what didn’t

I was finally beginning to lose faith in my ability to judge how many chapters remained in a longer fic, in that I was still saying ‘probably three more to go’ but by this stage I was saying it with some uncertainty.

I made a list at the start again, this time of all the things that needed to happen or be resolved over the course of the fic. That was much better than a list of jobs Cliopher could have that I made at the start of Embers, because from the start I could think about how all those things related to one another and how I could bring them in together.

It wasn’t long before I realised that the real shape of the fic had to be everything hitting Cliopher at once until he cracked and took charge. I also realised fairly early on what the major twist would be, and I was pleased with how it landed.

I wasn’t expecting this to be so much fic-as-therapy but it worked.

It was also fun including little bureaucratic in-jokes like Inkstone (tip o’the hat to UK government cat Gladstone) or naming a chapter after an economics treatise (Cliopher is a Keynesian, bite me). 

There was definitely a stressful point mid-story where I wasn’t sure what shape would come out of all the pieces I was wrangling, but the experience of writing Embers gave me the confidence to push ahead anyway and it did all come together despite the total lack of a plan.

What I learned from writing it

This is a better fic in every way than Embers was - better titled, better shaped, tauter and punchier and more structured. What’s interesting is that so little of that was intentional. Perhaps the lesson should be that if you pile enough things on top of a character and work a way through them, the plot weaves itself.

I also found that things that felt self-indulgent to me often added depth and were worth including. Again, having the confidence to relax and write what I wanted was rewarding. It was important to me to show the shape of the achievements Cliopher would need to land before he could practically run the government, be the emperor never so enamoured with him, etc. But it was also important to show that relationship developing too and the growing trust between them, while staying true to the level of uncertainty Cliopher still canonically has several hundred years later. Having all of these things in the back of my mind actually made it easier to write each scene - I didn’t think each time ‘how will this fit into those narratives?’ but the themes naturally came through in the way they informed the progression of events and the characters’ reactions each time I asked myself ‘what happens next?’

I also reached the end of Hands to the wheel entirely done with grinding out two updates a week to build out the Embers narrative. This was where I finally felt confident enough to start picking things up on a whim and writing what I wanted to write - which would include a couple more Embers pieces but would also include a lot more experimentation and [jazz hands] drama from this point on.

[verdemoun]

can i have more timewarp Javier info? just because im insane about him

Timewarp Javier deserves the world I will never forgive dutch van der linde.

Javier was the only timewarper who immediately burst into tears and started hugging everyone upon seeing the gang. Admittedly, if not for the fact they’d just watched him magically appear in the middle of a market, they might have doubted it was Javier because of how out of character it was and also pictures didn’t do justice to how much Javier had changed.

Not in a fatphobic way but in a what happened to the light in his eyes. How is his hair shorter than they’d ever seen it and yet so dry and ratty with split ends when it had once been something he took pride in. Why has every single year been carved into his face. Compared to Bill, John and even Dutch, Javier just seems old and tired to the 1899 gang.

Being around the gang in a weird way bought back the post-1899 depression and self-doubt back. Javier really took Dutch's 'change' the hardest. He stayed loyal to Dutch only for Dutch to still leave him behind escaping Beaver Hollow. He had been living for survival since then, not for anything he believed in. Had he ever believed in anything? Or had he echoed Dutch's ideals from the moment they met?

Once again, Papa Hosea to the rescue. He knows what it's like to feel like a fool for believing in Dutch - and even if he knew everything he does now, he thinks he would have kept following Dutch with the same blind devotion. Javier was no more a fool than any of them. Every day he wakes up beside his wife he's reminded what a fool he is: he went back to Dutch when Bessie was still alive. He gave up years he could have spent waking up beside her in favor of following Dutch.

Javier also struggled a lot with the sheer concept of timewarp because he's catholic. All the catholic boys (Kieran, Sean and Javier) went through the necessary crisis of 'does this mean God isn't real' because modern era isn't torture enough to be hell but if the closest thing to heaven is a 16" new york pizza then they want their money back.

One of his first regular outings leaving the house was he started going to church again. Kieran and Javier, two gays in the back row having a crisis of faith not for being gay but 'how the fuck did I end up alive 100 years into the future instead of Hell'.

Javier loves instagram. It's like giving a bird a mirror. He will doom-scroll for hours just looking at pretty things and understands the modern era concept of aesthetic long before even the 1899 gang have figured it out. Bessie loves that they've picked up an interior decorator. She has come home to Javier moving furniture around and it just works so much better.

Javier sees Kieran in a skirt once, gets the run down on how the concept of gender and sexuality, and immediately is running to the store because he NEEDS IT. He loves make-up (admittedly just because he is a bit vain and loves hiding his blemishes to Kieran's disgust) and is the crowned prince of hair products. Everyone's getting $80 bottles of shampoo and conditioner for their specific hair type for Christmas.

Because Javier was so depressed after he timewarped Hosea held off bullying him to get a job because he needed time to work through his grief and feelings towards the gang and get back to something he could consider himself again. Most of the gang actually enjoy having jobs and a reason to get out of bed and function but by the time Javier seemed in a good enough place to consider it, Javier was fully committed to the unemployed loser lifestyle and loved it. Bessie is fine with this but swears no more of them living off her paycheck she can only support so many and still have grandbaby spoiling money.

Javier in fact invented the 'can I rizz you up' 'sure' 'PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE' because man knows how to carry himself confidently and act suave but is actually a dork and a loser. This level of manfailure even effects his ability to flirt with Kieran Duffy, an oversized sweater wearing horsegirl who still has hay stuck in his hair. (Kieran in contrast is a clumsy disaster who is fully capable of having someone wrapped around his fingers with an artful pick up line).

Teaching Javier to drive was basically a crash course in Spanish. He doesn't hate driving but he has the worst road rage and will always say insults in Spanish instead. This has backfired many times with how much more common Americans speaking Spanish is in modern era.

Fishing is much more obviously a core part of Javier's personality. He has all the shit fishing caps. Javier and Kieran have fucked in the Bass Pro Shops pyramid. He does have a guitar but sometimes at gang catch ups he will be too busy talking about fishing to remember to play it.

The gang still love listening to Javier play. Javier hadn't played guitar since 1899 and playing again takes them all back to the good days before Blackwater.

Javier, alongside John, are the only ones who won't forgive Dutch. Javier lost too much of himself in his loyalty to Dutch and he won't forgive him for never coming back for him after Beaver Hollow. He won't risk losing the slither of happiness he's found to Dutch's whims again.

[dokidokitsuna]

Inventor/Invention

-In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been trying to make most of the characters in this AU look like they’re age 50+...which is something I’ve never done before, and it might explain why the designs have been so hit or miss. ^^;;;  Fortunately, Susie seems to be a hit; I like how this drawing came out. ^^ I think this body type + clothing aesthetic + age demographic is a particularly rare combination; personally I’ve never seen a character who looks like this before. And yet, I managed to make it work~.

-Susie (the current ‘President Haltmann’, btw) is basically Magolor’s right hand, and helps him with all the technological aspects of his conquest-- not only did she create Auto-Nightmare, she also had a large hand in cloning Blade, and studies the progression of her disease throughout the story. In return for playing the tech support role, she’s allowed to have the Haltmann Works Co. drain resources from all the worlds that Magolor conquers-- which he would agree to, of course, since it would be an easy way to keep his new subjects in line (read: oppressed and afraid) while he’s off looking for more heroes to murder.

It makes me wonder, though, what would happen if the “player” chooses to have Magolor become nicer over the course of the story…like, if he really does turn himself around, he and Susie would have to come into conflict over this deal eventually. ^^; Maybe I just won’t let him get to that point; maybe the best he can do for the purposes of the story is learn to love Blade and take care of her…while completely ignoring all the evil he’s done to the rest of the universe, and simply not giving a damn about letting the HWC consume everyone and everything he left behind. XD

-P.S. Susie basically has two main designs: she’d appear in this physical form for certain cutscenes, but fight exclusively with her mecha (which I totally will draw at some point…I promise…⚆u⚆; )

-Auto-Nightmare is the result of me wanting to finally use Nightmare in an AU for once, but wanting to do it in an unorthodox way. ^^ Besides, I can’t really see a more canon-esque Nightmare willingly being subservient to someone like Magolor…and in terms of traitors/fickle allies, Mags already has his hands full with Marx. I don’t need another character in the party who plays the same role…

So Auto-Nightmare was born, combining the Power Orb with some of Nightmare’s accessories to create this cuter, more unassuming design. Which eventually informed his character concept.

-”Auto” is not really Nightmare; not even an amnesiac-reset version of Nightmare. Technically he’s just a machine that was designed to force Nightmare’s Power Orb to awaken…but ultimately failed, and now simply draws from its power to create his own identity and abilities. The result is this walking bundle of anxiety who feels inferior to his “former self”, and tries to make up for it by doing everything his bosses tell him to do. ^^; However, over the course of the story, he befriends Blade, and starts to become more assertive. He may not be able to stand up for himself, but he quickly learns to stand up for his ailing friend, even to the point of openly criticizing Magolor for his treatment of her.

-As you might have guessed, this is where his “death” comes in. ^^ Soon after I decided he should be Blade’s only real friend, I kinda knew he had to die, because he would end up getting in Magolor’s way. Isolation is a large part of what makes an abusive relationship work; a victim with a staunch supporter who genuinely wants what’s best for them will escape your control eventually... …Besides, Magolor is terribly petty, and would probably be offended by this ‘magic tin can’ talking back to him…enough to snap and shatter his face while Blade is unconscious, if the "player" so chooses. =T

Because Auto isn’t really alive, he doesn’t exactly die…the Power Orb itself can even reform on its own. But breaking it in the first place causes his whole system to reset: he reverts to a silent, emotionless shell who just stands around and follows simple commands...and this is a devastating, soul-crushing event for Blade. Especially if you go one step further and choose to have Magolor lie about what happened to Auto, and/or imply that she killed him accidentally during one of her Malady flare-ups.

-On that note, if you don’t choose to have Magolor go down ^that sickeningly cruel path and just leave Auto alone, Blade actually does kill Auto accidentally, leading to a similar outcome. But at least then, it becomes an opportunity for Magolor to help Blade through this traumatic experience, and start to form a genuine bond with her. Again, if the "player" so chooses~.

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 10 / 31 * RITE OF PASSAGE 」

June 11, 1978

It just looks like a normal building.

A little more run-down than some of the newer buildings around it and it looks more like someone just dropped the old garage on the side of the street and said good enough without any care or thought to how well it fit with everything else around it, but on its face there was nothing wrong with it.

Mad scientists planning to destroy the world or exact revenge on their enemies typically lived in haunted old mansions with perpetual storms raging overhead and thunder and lightning tearing through the sky; not in garages right next to Burger King.

“Come on, McFly.” Needles leans over the handlebars of his shiny new black bike that admittedly makes Marty a little jealous. It was almost the same exact one he’d been begging his parents for for months—it was the one thing he wanted for his birthday so he could keep up with his friends around town and not feel like he was getting left behind just because their parents had the extra cash to throw around. If he got nothing else all year but got that bike as a birthday present tomorrow, everything would be perfect.

Needles grins and Marty can’t help but think of some cartoon villain, fully aware that even before he says anything else, whatever scheme he’s cooking up in his head is only going to spell trouble.

Considering that he, Jake, Scotty, and Needles are all hanging out across the street from Doctor Brown’s garage, lined up in some sloppy half-circle across the sidewalk, there’s only one thing he can imagine will come out of his mouth next and it’s not trying to ride their bikes through the drive-thru at Burger King.

“You ain’t even gotta go inside—all you need to do is sneak over there, touch the wall, and look in through the window. Reeeal easy. You might even see him working on one of his experiments in there!”

Marty scrunches up his face in obvious distaste, shifting his weight and Linda’s old hand-me-down bike with it to favour his left side. “Or we could just leave him alone. Don’t you think he put the fence up for a reason? I bet the guy just wants to be left alone to do—whatever he’s doing in there.”

Which, admittedly, he had been more than a little curious about ever since he first started hearing the stories of crazy old Doctor Brown and his dangerous experiments. Doctor Brown was an unknown—an outlier—an object of immense interest to his young mind that fascinated far more than terrified. More than once he fantasised about this exact moment—stealing into Doctor Brown’s so-called laboratory to sneak a peek at all the things he was inventing in there, being whisked away to a world that might have been infinitely more interesting than boring old Hill Valley.

Once, he almost stopped him on the road to dispel all the rumours and hearsay for good and finally learn the truth about the man.

“Didn’t you hear what Max Gordon said last week?” Jake asks incredulously, surprised by Marty’s blatant nonchalance. “He did it too! And he said—“

Marty groans. “You didn’t believe all that, did you? Max Gordon’s an idiot and if you believed that stuff he said, you’re just as stupid as he is. I bet he just got so scared he passed out and thought the stuff he was reading in his dad’s comics was real. He already thinks Doctor Brown is some kind of evil space alien come here to destroy the Earth.”

Scotty snorts, leaning to his left to thump Jake upside the head. “He definitely believed.” Jake rubs the abused spot with a pathetic look on his face. “Maybe we should send Jake instead.”

“No way—my birthday’s not even for another couple months. I’m not doing it.”

“Chicken,” Marty teases, grinning fondly at them. Jake huffs, content to spend the rest of his days as a live chicken over a dead—or worse—lab rat.

“So what’s the problem?” Needles cuts in, jabbing a finger at Marty’s chest. “If you’re not scared, then just go up there. Even you can climb that fence, McFly.”

Marty swats the offending hand away with a frown, clenching his fists against the obvious dig at his height. “Because, Needles, unlike you I’m not a jerk and I think we should just leave him alone. I’d rather take my chances with Hell Hill.”

[hannahmanderr]

~Pulsar~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tracking down the Crown of Fire ended up being much easier than Danny anticipated. 

It probably helped that the Heart had been more than happy to help him find the connection to the Crown. The pull was already there in his core, after all. Refining it to lead him towards the Crown took little more than a bit of mental manipulation. Zunje had asked him what he’d done, but he wasn’t sure if he could really explain it, and not because he didn’t want to.

There was a reason Lancer’s class was always the toughest. Words just weren’t his thing. Unless those words were puns. Puns, he could do.

Finding the right portal had been even easier. They’d left the chamber through Zunje’s door, taken a quick detour through her home so she could grab a few supplies, then set off into the Ghost Zone proper. The portal had appeared less than ten minutes into the journey, much to Danny’s surprise. Even more surprising had been the sudden tug at his core, coming straight from the portal.

“Weird,” he’d muttered. “I think it’s through here.”

“Wait, for real?” Zunje had looked at him in a strange cross between wonder, confusion, and a look he recognized from when his parents stumbled across a new development or invention to play with. 

“Yeah. Happy coincidence, I guess?”

He’d tried to shrug it off, along with the strange stir that had bloomed in his stomach. Probably nerves. Even without the knowledge that he’d have to fight Pariah Dark again, the idea of wearing a crown - and not just any crown, but the Crown of Fire - would be enough to unsettle him.

The Crown would just make it all the more real.

Thankfully, Zunje hadn’t pressed him on it. She had definitely wanted to ask him a million questions (the cinnamony taste of her curiosity had told him enough), but, much to Danny’s surprise, she had stayed uncharacteristically quiet and instead buried her nose into her tablet.

It had been at that point he’d realized he was alone with one of the Ancients, and he’d only met her a couple hours ago. That didn’t do his nerves any more favors. He was still having trouble even wrapping his head around the fact that Pandora and Frostbite were Ancients too, and that somehow they’d decided to befriend him of all people.

Perhaps it is another “happy coincidence”, as you say. The Ancients have often had personal relationships with past kings and queens, even before they took the throne. Those relationships have been assets for both sides.

Well Danny wasn’t really keen on the idea of calling any of his friendships an “asset”, and the idea of his friendships with Pandora and Frostbite being little more than coincidence didn’t soothe him either. Both had tainted his already-sour mood before entering the portal.

Seeing where the portal had taken them only made his mood worse.

He didn’t bother to hide his scowl from Zunje. Not that it mattered. She was too busy frowning up at the large building they stood in front of.

“Huh.” Her nose crinkled as her brow furrowed even tighter. “Why would the Crown be in the human world?”

“Clearly, you don’t know who lives here,” Danny grumbled.

“Wait, you know who lives here?”

He folded his arms across his chest, not caring if he looked like a petulant child. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“What do you mean, unfortunately?”

Danny shot her a look. “Do you not know Vlad? Or at least like, know of him?”

“Oh!” Zunje’s face brightened, and dread coiled in Danny’s gut. True, he hadn’t known her long, but it was the exact same face Jazz got when someone came to her with some sort of psychology question, and that never ended well. “Do you mean Vlad Plasmius? The other hybrid? He lives here?”

“I mean, not all the time, but yeah.”

“Eeeee! Oh my stars!” Zunje pulled out the notebook she’d grabbed from her lair and furiously began scribbling something down. Danny wasn’t sure why she didn’t just use her tablet, but he supposed she had a method to her madness. “I can’t believe it, both of the only human-ghost hybrids in existence and I’m getting to meet them both in one day! This is amazing, there’s gonna be so much data between you two that I’ll be positively swimming in it! Not to mention your stats now compared to after you truly take the throne, but even without that, I’ll finally be able to start those case studies I’ve been wanting to do on you two! I’m just - ugh, this is so exciting!”

Danny blinked. “Case studies?” he asked weakly.

“Well, duh! There hasn’t been anyone like you two ever in existence, I’ve gotta investigate! Plus I’ve been theorizing and stuff, I mean not that I’ve had much concrete data to work off of, but a girl can dream, right? Anyway! I’ve had a couple of theories I want to test, especially between you both. Like one of them that I have is that you and him actually aren’t -”

“I don’t think he’s gonna be too interested in going along with your… research,” Danny interrupted before she could spiral into another fast-paced spiel. “He’s not the nicest guy.”

Zunje didn’t bother to look up from her notebook. “Well, I mean I know I’ve heard you two got some sort of rivalry going on, but he can’t be that bad.”

Danny arched an eyebrow. “You do know he’s the one that let Pariah out, right? The last time I mean?”

That got her to stop in her tracks. She finally looked up at him with eyes as large as her glasses, and green sparks began to smolder around her pen. “What?” she screeched. “That was him? That’s incredible, his power has gotta be off the charts if he was able to get the Skeleton Key from the Behemoth! I mean, yeah, definitely not a good thing, like at all, but wow, that’s just…” She shook her head. The strange, bittersweet taste of her conflicted interests filled Danny’s mouth. 

Again, he frowned in confusion; he really didn’t understand why everyone’s emotions were suddenly so palpable. Unless someone's emotions were really strong, he usually had to concentrate hard to be able to pick up on them like this, and even then it really only worked with people he knew well. By all accounts, he shouldn’t have been able to get a read on Zunje so easily, let alone had his taste buds assaulted by all the different flavors of everyone’s emotions.

It is yet another sign. A king must be well in tune with his kingdom, of course.

The phrase “his kingdom” hit him like a brick wall. It’s not my anything! he fired back. I’m only doing this to stop the end of the world or whatever. I’m not gonna be a ruler.

Your insistence does not change reality, little Prince.

“Do you come with a mute button?” he grumbled. He didn’t even realize he’d spoken aloud until Zunje snapped her gaze back to him.

“Look, I get it, everyone tells me I’m too chatty,” she said, flipping her silvery hair over her shoulder, “but you don’t have to be so rude about it. Yeesh!”

Danny wanted to die again right then and there. A cold, green blush bloomed in his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears. “No! No! That wasn’t - I didn’t mean you, it - I was - ugh!” He sagged to the ground and buried his face in his hands. “This is exactly why I shouldn’t be a king,” he said, and whether it was directed at Zunje or the Heart, he had no clue.

Zunje studied him for a moment. “Is it talking to you again? Kilaris?”

He nodded numbly. Of course she’d come to that conclusion so easily. She was way too much like Jazz for his own good. 

He didn’t need to taste her emotions to tell she was holding herself back from overwhelming him with questions about the Heart and its voice. “It’s… it’s alright,” she said. “I mean, the Heart has had all sorts of weird effects on its champions, you know? You’re definitely not the first one it’s talked to.”

“Well, I wish it wouldn’t.”

“Hey, think of it this way.” Zunje patted Danny’s shoulder awkwardly. “You don’t have to go into it blind, like a lot of the others, yeah? You got it speaking directly to you, and that’s pretty lucky.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he mumbled. How could he even tell her part of him still wondered if he was imagining it? That for a while, Kilaris’ words had been so indistinguishable from his own thoughts? That it felt like so much more than just a disembodied voice in his head?

Ancients, he couldn’t decide which was worse: the idea of an all-powerful force talking to him in his head, telling him that he was its “little Prince”, or the idea that this was all in his mind and he was somehow, deep in his subconscious, just trying to get closer to power he should never be allowed near in the first place?

(The haunting laugh of a monster still echoed in his head - a monster who had worn his face, who had destroyed and killed for the thrill of it, who had chased and sucked down any last bit of power he could get his hands on. It still lived in the back of his mind, always reminding him of what could have been.)

(What it was supposed to be.)

(No, no one in their right mind wouldn’t let a monster like him near that sort of power.)

Oh child, if you only knew…

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. No. He was done listening. The Heart would just have to deal with it, if it was truly talking to him. 

He’d do this on his own. 

With a deep breath, he straightened himself up and forced himself to pull his hands away from his face. “Sorry,” he said, his voice tight. “Can we just… get this stupid thing? So we can get back and just fix everything?”

Zunje’s eyes were unreadable, but that same cinnamony taste of curiosity betrayed her. Danny knew she was still burning with questions, that the last thing she wanted to do was push them aside.

Much to his relief, she eventually nodded. “Right. Right, yeah. Worlds in danger and all.” She looked back to the chalet. “Sooo… you got a plan on how to get it?”

Danny shrugged helplessly. “Other than hope he’s not here and that we can just grab it and go?”

“You know, if he does want to give you trouble, you could always pull the king card on him. Make him obey you and all.”

Yeah, like that idea didn’t send his stomach churning.

He shook his head. “That - It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s just go.” 

With a sigh, he transformed back into his human form (to his surprise, the cloak he wore carried through the transformation, remaining securely fastened around his shoulders). Though he would’ve preferred to be prepared for an attack, he knew Vlad had sensors installed in his homes specifically set to key in on Danny’s ectosignature specifically. Being human wouldn’t completely hide it, and Zunje’s presence was bound to set something off, but better to avoid detection as long as possible. 

Zunje’s eyes widened as she marveled at the transformation. “Oh, we are so having that study sesh as soon as this is over. But for now…” She broke into a grin. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”

“Oh my God, don’t you dare start with that.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ If there was one thing any Fenton excelled at, it was jumping straight into the line of danger.

A father and his two little girls stood on the corner of the intersection, frozen in terror as they watched hundreds upon hundreds of skeletons pour into the city. The father had tried to position himself in front of his daughters, and he attempted to shout the skeleton soldiers away, but such mindless ghosts would hardly be deterred by a mere human.

Jazz, of course, was also just a human, but she was far from defenseless. 

The Fenton Peeler’s built-in ecto-gun whined to life as she sprinted to put herself in between the family and the army. She didn’t even stop running before she started firing blast after blast at the skeletons.

Without letting up on her fire, she turned to look over her shoulder at the father. “There’s a ghost shield set up at the elementary school a few blocks down. Go!”

The man, who had initially been startled by Jazz’s arrival, shook himself out of his stupor. He thanked Jazz, scooped up his younger daughter, and took off running toward the elementary school hand in hand with the other girl.

Jazz barely processed any of it. She was too engrossed in keeping the thrall army from overwhelming her too. She hoped that those were some of the last civilians still out on the streets. The emergency alert system - a joint development from her parents and City Hall - had sounded at least twenty minutes ago, as soon as it became evident that this was no normal ghost attack, and the ghost shields they had finally installed at some of the major hotspots had triggered at the same time, but it didn’t stop some people from being caught off guard or not knowing where the nearest ghost shield was. She had spent more time directing people out of harm’s way than actually fighting back against said harm.

She cursed as the gun in her grasp clicked uselessly. Another dead cartridge. Of course.

Not that changing the cartridges in the Fenton Peeler was difficult, but carrying them around was. She should’ve known better; she should’ve figured out a way to bring extras with her. As it was, she only had the cartridge from the little blaster she kept tucked in her purse, and it definitely wasn’t the ideal replacement. It would have to do for now, though.

She pressed two fingers to the Fenton Phone in her ear. “Dad! Are you still getting the RV together?”

“Working on it!” her dad’s voice crackled over the line. “I’m taking the last load up with me now!”

“Do you have extra cartridges? Or something? I’m running on empty here.”

“Where are you?” That was her mother. “I’ll come get you.”

“No!” Jazz grunted as she ducked to avoid yet another skeleton soldier swinging its sword at her neck. A solid punch to the ribs was thankfully enough to cause it to crumple into a heap of bones, but she didn’t know how much longer her luck would hold out. Of course she had her training behind her, but she wasn’t near as good at close-quarters combat as her mom or Danny were, and it was only a matter of time before one of these skeletons came at her with an attack she couldn’t dodge.

In spite of that though, she refused to abandon the battle. “I’ll be fine!” she said as she finally managed to shove the new cartridge into the gun of the Peeler. “We’re already spread thin enough as is, we can’t afford to leave parts of the city undefended.”

“Not to worry, Princess!” Her dad’s enthusiastic cry was loud enough to make her flinch. “I got this baby loaded up with firepower! These ghosts won’t know what hit ‘em!”

A third voice also crackled to life in her ear. “What about V- the Huntress?” Damon Gray asked. “Where is she?”

Jazz grimaced. “Still getting back-up. Hopefully.”

“And remind me,” her mom said. The exertion was evident in her voice. “Why won’t you tell us who this back-up is?”

Because that’s a whole can of worms we really don’t have time to get into right now, Mom. “Can’t you just trust me? I’m eighteen, I know what I’m doing.”

“Of course we trust you, honey, it would just be nice to know who to expect. I can’t think of who could possibly be so important that the Huntress would leave to go find them.”

Jazz swallowed down the urge to cry as she fired at a group of thralls harassing a couple of kids. She’d never admit it out loud of course, but Danny’s ability to balance his dual identity always impressed her. He’d been a bit sloppy first starting out, but two years later, and he’d improved by light years. Fenton and Phantom were the two separate people he intended them to be.

But the stress of it all… she didn’t know how he handled it like it was nothing. Unless if he was hiding things from her (and she definitely suspected he was doing just that). For all that she’d learned to work his identity around their parents, sometimes she still felt overwhelmed by that responsibility. 

Sometimes she wondered who really had the more difficult job.

And then as soon as those thoughts would cross her mind, she’d scold herself. The fighting wasn’t easy in the slightest, and Danny’s enemies - ghost and human - had only increased in number and strength over the years. He had a neon target painted on his back.

But he still stepped up. He would always step up. And if he could step up, then Jazz could too. And she would.

She breathed in deeply before speaking. “Every bit of help we can get is important, Mom. Even if it’s from someone unimportant.” Not that Danny was unimportant in the slightest, of course. She’d suspected he’d be the most important player in stopping the weird rips in the sky, and the presence of this skeleton army that had invaded their town just a year and half ago only confirmed those suspicions.

But she hadn’t been lying, either. The thralls were pouring into the city - from where, she didn’t know - and their defenses were quickly being overwhelmed. For a city constantly plagued by ghosts and their attacks, it was remarkable how helpless most of its citizens ended up being. Without any weapons of their own, their only main methods of defense consisted of taking shelter under the ghost shields, and even then the shields didn’t protect from physical threats like falling rubble.

Her heart quickened. This was just the beginning of it, too. There was no way this army was operating on its own. And if its commander was on his way… on top of the rips that were beginning to appear with alarming frequency and shaking the world around her…

Yeah. They needed every bit of help they could get.

She could only pray that sending Valerie and Wes to find Danny had been the right choice.

“Do you have any sort of ETA on this back-up?” Damon asked. He clearly did not like not knowing where his daughter was.

“Believe me, if I knew, I’d tell you. I just…” She huffed a breath as she leapt out of the way of a wave of bony arrows, fired by a few skeleton archers positioned on the roof of the office building above her. “We just gotta hold out. We’re Amity Parkers, right? We’re more than tough enough to handle these guys.” I hope.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Jazzy-pants!” Somehow, in spite of the world falling apart around them, her father’s enthusiasm still managed to get a tiny smile out of her. “I’m heading out now, I’ll -”

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off abruptly as something collided with her head - hard.

She cried out as she fell to the ground. The metal helmet of the Peeler offered little cushioning, if any at all, and her head rattled painfully against its sides. It only got banged around more when she hit the street.

For a moment, she just laid there as the side of her head began to throb in time with her heart. It felt like it was being stuffed full of fuzz. Or something. Finding the words to describe it was difficult. 

Dazed, she pried open her eyes and immediately regretted it. The world around her wavered, like she was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. The sounds of the skeleton army slowly advancing on her had grown irritatingly loud.

Great. Fantastic. She’d just offered herself up on a silver platter to these bags of bones.  

The clanging of metal pulled her attention away from the skeletons. Despite her swimming vision, she forced herself to look up. Seconds later, she was grateful she had; a glowing green sword swung toward her face, and she had to roll to avoid it being embedded in her. 

The sword’s wielder only looked vaguely familiar. She thought she recognized the dark armor and fiery cape from the first time Amity Park had been invaded, but the concussion she was sure she was nursing might have been affecting her memory. Still, she struggled to her feet, just in time to jump out of the way of another swing of the sword.

“Surrender, child,” the wielder rumbled. “I do not wish to make this any more painful than it must be.”

Jazz scowled. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Where is my brother?”

“Danny? What do you mean you don’t know where he is?”

She bit back another curse. Of course the second she got her head hit she’d slip and forget something so stupid as to make sure the mic was off. Or just not refer to her missing brother. 

Idiot.

The increasingly panicked cries of her parents bounced around in her throbbing head as she attempted to dive out of the way of the sword yet again. “He would be wise to stay very far from here,” the wielder said, his voice carrying a somber gravity Jazz had never heard from a ghost attacking her town so ruthlessly. “I’m afraid this will not be a battle he will win.”

“You don’t know him, then. He always finds a way.”

The ghost closed his eyes. “Not this time.”

“Jazz! Answer me now! What does Danny have to do with this?”

She grimaced as the ghost lunged for her. Dizziness was beginning to overwhelm her, and her parents yelling in her ear wasn’t helping matters. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I wish I could explain, but I can’t. But I promise we’ll explain things after we’re done saving the city.”

Her parents protested, of course, but Jazz ignored them, instead reaching up to shut off the Fenton Phone. She’d get in major trouble for that, she knew, and she berated herself for promising an explanation (even if it wasn’t the explanation), but she couldn’t lose focus now. Not with a scary ghost knight with an equally scary sword coming after her.

She turned to run, but as luck would have it, another wave of dizziness swept over her, causing her to stumble over a pile of bones from one of the defeated soldiers. The Peeler’s suit prevented her from cutting herself up on the asphalt, but the fall gave the ghost more than enough time to advance on her. She stared in horror as he raised the sword above her, pointing straight down at her chest.

“Forgive me, child,” he said hoarsely. 

As much as Jazz wanted to face death with a brave face, she couldn’t help but flinch as the ghost began to drive the sword down. 

And then, instead of the sound of the sword slicing through her skin, she heard the sound of colliding bodies.

The ghost’s cry of surprise got her to look up. Maybe it was that she was still marveling over the fact that she hadn’t been impaled, or maybe it was the concussion still affecting her, but she had to blink multiple times to make sure she was seeing things properly.

A little girl with volcanic hair had tackled the ghost knight to the ground. Pink flames surrounded her hands as she snarled at him. She said something, but it was in a language Jazz didn’t understand, if jumbled sounds layered under hisses and static counted as a language. 

The ghost knight responded in the same language before shoving the girl off of him. The girl recovered quickly, and the pink flames in her hands molded into a pair of daggers. She pounced at the ghost knight again, and in the blink of an eye, the two were engaged in an intense, close-quarters battle.

It wasn’t the only strange development. Behind them, three other ghosts flew straight at the thrall army and didn’t hesitate to begin attacking the throngs of skeletons.

“Jazz!”

The familiar voice pulled her attention away from the sudden shift in the battle. “Sam? Tucker?”

The two younger teens raced over to her and helped her stand. “Oh jeez, we’re so sorry, Jazz,” Tucker said as his eyes scanned over the chaos in front of them. “I thought we’d be able to beat them here!”

“You knew this was happening?”

“We knew it was gonna happen,” Sam grunted as she dug in her spider backpack. “As of, like, ten minutes ago. We got here as fast as we could.”

“We apologize for the delay. We needed to ensure the Great One was seen off safely,” a gravelly voice said. Jazz turned and had to use every ounce of self-control to avoid screaming as she came face-to-face with a towering yeti monster. The squeak that still managed to escape her was embarrassing.

As if to add to the mortification, the yeti noticed it and immediately clued in on her terror. “No need to be afraid!” it said as it waved enormous paws at her. “I am one of the ‘good guys’, as you humans say.”

“I thought you’ve met Frostbite,” Tucker said.

Jazz blinked. “Oh! Right! I’m sorry, I should’ve realized, Danny’s talked a lot about you. I’ve just… never had the chance to visit.”

“That’s because you look like you want to throw up any time he asks if you want to go with him into the Zone.”

“I do not!” She huffed with indignation. “I’m more useful at home, is all. Covering for the three of you - wait.” Though her head still throbbed, she looked back and forth across the battlefield. Frostbite was there, of course, as was the little ghost girl who’d taken up fighting the ghost who’d tried to kill her. There were three other ghosts she didn’t recognize working to drive back the thrall army. There was Sam and Tucker. 

Someone was missing.

Eyes widening, she made a desperate grab at Tucker’s shirt. “Where’s Danny?” Panic made her voice hitch up an octave. God, she was thankful she’d turned off her mic.

Tucker offered her a nervous grin. “He’s fine! I think. He was fine when we left him?”

“We don’t know exactly where he is,” Sam admitted, throwing a glare at Tucker as she strapped the Fenton Wrist Ray to her arm. “He’s trying to find the Crown of Fire.”

Jazz looked at her helplessly. “Should I know what that is? I feel like I should know what that is.”

“It’s a crown that’s on fire,” Tucker said with a shrug. “And apparently it’s got half of the Zone’s lifeforce locked inside it.”

“The Zone’s what?”

“It’s a long story.” Sam shook her head. “Basically Danny’s gotta get the Crown so he can put the beatdown on Pariah Dark and get the Ring of Rage so he can stop the Realms from tearing themselves and our world apart and become King of the Realms.” She paused, then glanced up at Frostbite. “Right? Please tell me I’ve got it right.”

“Mm, yes, I believe that about sums it up.”

Jazz couldn’t tell if it was the concussion or Sam’s casual bomb-dropping that made her legs feel weak. “Danny… he’s a - a king?” she asked, her voice shaking. “The King? Like, the King king?”

Yeah, she was really thankful she’d turned off her mic.

“Yup!” Tucker said brightly, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Pretty much our reaction too. Danny’s also. He, uh, definitely wasn’t thrilled about it, that’s for sure.”

“I can imagine,” she muttered. Her mind was positively reeling. The idea of her brother - her baby brother, the boy who shied away from just about any and all attention, the boy who, in spite of his efforts to hide it, always seemed terrified of his own power - becoming a monarch at sixteen, over an entire parallel dimension at that… She knew she’d become much better about having an open mind over the last two years, but even this was too much for her to process.

And so her brain decided to latch on to something else Sam had said. “Wait, Pariah Dark?” she asked, her voice still weak. “Isn’t he the current king? The guy who’s in charge of all this?” She waved her hand vaguely towards the thrall army, which was still being whittled down by the unfamiliar ghosts. “The guy who’s probably about to try and waste the whole town again?”

“That’s the guy.” Tucker offered her a sheepish grin. “But hey! These guys seem to think Danny’ll be able to make pretty quick work of him, so that’s a plus.”

“These guys?”

“The Ancients,” Sam said, as if she hadn’t just dropped the name of a powerful, arcane order of ghosts.

Jazz blew out a breath. “Right. Okay. You brought the literal Ancients here to help keep the King of All Ghosts from destroying the town so my brother can come and beat him so he can become the King of All Ghosts. And the worlds are falling apart at the seams on top of that.” She looked at each of them around her in turn. “Am I missing anything?”

“I mean, other than that the Heart of the Realms or whatever has apparently bonded itself to Danny?” Tucker shrugged again. “Don’t think so.”

“The what?”

“Later,” Sam said. “Right now, we gotta hold back the Spirit Halloween wannabes from making things worse so that he actually has a town to come save.” She looked up and met Jazz’s gaze, and something within her eyes softened. “Trust me, this is a lot for us to process too. Including Danny. We - we’ll figure it out. We just have to, you know, save the world first.”

“Right, but…” Jazz said, floundering for her words. “Isn’t… I mean, Danny told me that this Pariah guy nearly killed him.” She couldn’t stop herself from choking up on those words. “And he’s really about to fight him again?”

Sam and Tucker exchanged a glance, and when they met Jazz’s eyes again, the glimmer of reluctant resignation sat resolute in their eyes. 

“Yeah,” Tucker said, unnecessary as it was. “That’s just what Danny does.”

Jazz closed her eyes. That’s just what Danny does.

He would always step up.

And so she would step up too.

“Okay.” Jazz nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She opened her eyes and set her jaw. “We’re pretty short-handed right now, so we need all the help we can get. Mom’s got the downtown area, Dad is on the way with the RV, and Mr. Gray is heading things up at home, so if you guys and… the Ancients can try and help us cover more ground, that would be great.”

Sam frowned. “What about Valerie? Why isn’t she helping?”

Jazz couldn’t hide her wince. This was not going to blow over well. “She is,” she began slowly. “I sent her to find Danny.”

“You what?” Sam screeched. “Are you crazy? She’ll maim him!”

“Well I didn’t exactly have another choice! No one knew where you guys went, the Boooo-merang wasn’t working for whatever reason, and you had taken the Specter Speeder, so I couldn’t just jump into the Zone and try and find you. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe not overreact so much? So what, we were gone for the afternoon. You know we’ve done that plenty before without telling you, right? What’s so important that you have to send the girl that hates Danny the most after him?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Jazz said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “How about the fact that we’ve been getting literal dimensional rips in the sky for the past couple hours? And that they’ve been getting worse? Is that important enough for you?”

“Wait,” Frostbite rumbled. Jazz had nearly forgotten he was still with them. “Describe these… rips.”

Jazz licked her lips. “The first one was a couple hours ago, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Like I said, they’ve been getting worse. Reappearing faster, sticking around longer, that sort of thing. And they’ve been beginning to have an effect on our world. I’ve heard they’re starting to blow things down, or something like that. We don’t know what they are or what they’re doing, but now with this skeleton army…” She trailed off and shrugged helplessly, glancing at Sam. “I didn’t have a choice. We need Danny.”

“Oh dear…” Frostbite closed his eyes. “It is destabilizing much faster than we anticipated.”

“What is?”

“Okay, I get it. Things are bad,” Sam said before Frostbite could respond. “But still, did you really have to send Valerie after him?”

Jazz inhaled deeply. “Yes, I did. Danny’s the one who told me that if something bad started going down here and he wasn’t here that I had to find Valerie and get her to find him.” She hesitated, then added, “I pushed back on that at first too, believe me. I told him that he’d practically be throwing his secret out the window.”

“And what did he say to that?”

“That if things were bad enough for me to have to get Valerie, then his secret was probably the last of his worries.”

Sam closed her eyes and scowled. “I swear, when I see that boy again…”

“Maybe wait to strangle him until after he’s stopped the end of the world or whatever?” Tucker said weakly. 

“Fine. But I don’t care if he’s some king, he’ll still be hearing from me.”

“So these rips…” Jazz frowned, her concussed brain working overtime to try and put the pieces together. “Do they have to do with Pariah? Or this whole Danny being king thing?”

“Indeed they do,” Frostbite said. “Once the Great One is able to assert the throne, it should restabilize Kilaris and cease the fracturing in both worlds.”

“I’m gonna pretend I know what a Kilaris is because I don’t know if I can handle any more bomb-dropping,” Jazz muttered.

“Ooo, did someone say bombs?”

The voice was new. Jazz turned and saw another ghost, this one much smaller than Frostbite and much more… gnome-like.

“Ah, whoops!” they said nervously. “Didn’t realize you had a thing going on here. But, uh…” They jabbed a thumb back toward the battle. The little girl and the black-armored knight had disappeared, but the two other tall ghosts were still working away at the skeleton army, which seemed to be targeting them. “We kinda need a bit of help. Apparently King Grumpy is pulling out all the stops with this one. These suckers just keep coming!” Sam grinned, a devilish spark glinting in her eye. “Finally! I’ve been waiting to start kicking some skeleton butt. C’mon Tuck, let’s go!”

She grabbed him by the sleeve and ran towards the battle, Tucker’s protests fading into the sounds of battle. The gnome ghost followed close behind.

Alone with Frostbite, Jazz turned to look at him. Now that Sam and Tucker were gone, she couldn’t stop the tears that prickled in her eyes, threatening to fall. “Danny…” she said quietly, “is he really gonna be okay?”

Frostbite didn’t answer right away. He looked up to the pulsating rip in the sky. “Your brother is strong. His core is powerful. With the Heart on his side, he will be all the more formidable.” His brow furrowed, though it was somewhat difficult to tell through all the fur. “But Pariah Dark does maintain some of the Heart’s power for himself. Fighting him will be a tall order, so to speak.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Memories of watching Danny recover from his first fight with the tyrant king flashed through her head. 

Frostbite set an enormous, gentle paw on her shoulder. “Rest assured, if - when he is able to win and fully unite with Kilaris, he will be more than okay. I believe the Heart’s bond with him is… unique. I sensed it in his core when he first arrived in our chamber today. Though I admittedly still can’t seem to wrap my head around his core readings -”

He was cut off by the squeal of tires as a huge silver vehicle tore around the corner before skidding to a stop. Jazz turned in time to see a flash of orange stumble out of the driver’s seat and begin to run toward her.

“Jazz!” her dad shouted. “I got those -” 

His words stopped abruptly as his eyes landed on Frostbite, who still had his paw on Jazz’s shoulder. Before she could say anything, her father had whipped out a Fenton Bazooka and aimed it right at Frostbite. “You!” Jazz was almost surprised at the ferocity in his voice. “Get away from my daughter, you furry freak!”

“Dad, no! He’s helping us!”

“Oh, hello!” Frostbite greeted, jovial as ever. “I am Chief Frostbite of the Far Frozen. It is truly an honor to finally meet the Great One’s father!”

The bazooka slipped from her dad’s shoulder. “The who now?”

Jazz buried her face in her hands. Danny was so not going to be happy.

Before she could begin to work damage control, though, the ground began to rumble under their feet. The vibrating air grew hotter, thicker, like it was trying to suffocate her, and the wind began whipping her hair into her face. Above her, the sky flickered from gray to green and back again. 

With a blinding flash and an ominous crackle, another rip tore through the sky. This time, it didn’t wait to begin gaping open, showing the void of pure darkness behind it. Invisible energy radiated out from the rip, the force strong enough to stop the battle dead in its tracks and knock nearly everyone to the ground. She tried to stand, but the energy continued to press her into the street.

It was all par for the course for how the tears had been progressively getting worse, but as if it wasn’t enough, a thunderous clap reverberated across Amity Park, loud enough to force everyone to cover their ears. Jazz yelped as a huge crack forked through the street right near her feet, leaking hot, red energy. Still unable to stand, she scrambled away from it on her hands and legs, right into Frostbite’s furry body.

With her heart threatening to burst out of her chest, her eyes followed the path of the crack down the street. There, at the other end of the block, behind the frayed ends of the crack, stood a ghost that radiated pure power. The red light from the crack before him cast an eerie glow over him, creating looming shadows across his face. Something bright red and flaming engulfed his left hand.

Jazz could hardly breathe. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

The tyrant king sneered down at them. “Where is he?” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Danny should’ve known something was wrong the minute he saw the Crown.

Not just because in spite of being called the Crown of Fire, it was surprisingly lacking in the fire department. He’d almost missed it entirely, since he’d been expecting to see those same bright green flames he remembered. Not the telltale cracks of frost.

He didn’t question why it was frosted over. He had a horrible feeling he knew exactly why, and he did not like it one bit.

Either way, it was undeniably still the Crown of Fire. The desperate pull in his core - enough to nearly topple him over - told him as much. A year and a half ago, he’d had to hold the Crown to be able to feel the power reaching out to him. Now though, he could feel its tantalizing pull just by being in the same room as the Crown. It was strange and overwhelming.

He gasped as his core hitched and he stumbled toward it. The empty yearning that had consumed his core earlier that morning made itself known again. Unlike that morning, though, this time he knew exactly what his core wanted so badly. It was easy when it was sitting right in front of him.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? It was just sitting there on Vlad’s desk, cushioned by a bath towel of all things. The man himself was nowhere to be seen, and that was setting off all kinds of alarms in Danny’s head. Vlad would never just leave something as important as the Crown of Fire sitting out for anyone to take.

Swallowing down the overwhelming urge to just grab the Crown (if only because the fact that he couldn’t help but want it so badly terrified him), he slowly circled the desk.

Zunje furrowed her brow. “What are you waiting for? I thought you just wanted to grab it and go!”

“Something’s wrong.” Danny knelt so that he was at eye level with the Crown. “There’s no way Vlad would just leave this thing out unprotected. He’s too paranoid for that. He had to have rigged it or something.” 

“I mean, either way, he can’t keep it from you. Like no offense to his booby-trapping skills or whatever, but he can’t possibly think some trap can override your power.”

“Have you seen the way he’s wiped the floor with me?” 

Zunje rolled her eyes. “Maybe he’s been able to do that before, but you’ve got Kilaris on your side now. You could wipe the floor with him if you wanted.”

As much as the thought of getting to pay Vlad back for all the pain he’d inflicted in the past two years appealed to Danny, his stomach lurched. He’d long since learned the dangers of flaunting his power and exerting it over those less powerful than him. The casual tone with which Zunje had suggested he do as much sent a chill down his spine.

He promised long ago he’d never make that mistake again.

But reliving those lessons (and, more importantly, those mistakes of his) was far from the priority. He shook his head and frowned at the Crown. “I don’t need to pick a fight with Vlad on top of having to fight Pariah.”

“Fair enough, but again: why don’t you just grab it and go then? The longer we stick around here, the more likely he is to show up.”

“I know.” Danny put one hand up to his temple. “I just…”

Just… what? He knew he had to take it. Not only could Vlad show up any minute, but his town needed him. The world needed him - both of them.  Hadn’t he already been through this back in the Ancients’ Chamber?

And yet…

Your fears are unfounded, little Prince.

That made Danny bristle. I’m not scared, he insisted. 

Then why do you hesitate?

Danny wanted to say he didn’t know. He wanted to pretend he could be ignorant, that he didn’t know himself as well as the Heart clearly thought. 

But… he couldn’t. He couldn’t ignore his fears like he always tried to. Not this time, not when they were so loud, clamoring for attention. 

But he also couldn’t admit them. Not out loud, not to himself. Like the king thing, it would only make them more real.

Then perhaps that is the crux of the issue.

Without warning, Danny stood. No way he could afford the time to dwell on that. He steeled himself, and, before Zunje or the Heart could interject again, he snatched the Crown off the towel.

The metal was freezing to the touch; probably cold enough to cause some real damage to a regular human’s skin. Danny, however, was no regular human. Ever since stepping out of that portal, the cold had welcomed him. It embraced him like nothing he’d ever experienced, even before his ice powers had matured. And once they had, it became clearer than ever that the cold was more than his element; he was the cold. The raised patterns in the frost were comforting and familiar, and he could practically feel the icy crystals creeping up his fingers, wrapping around them in earnest. 

Even more than the cold, he could feel the power simmering within the Crown, just as potent and alive and pure as it had been the first time he held it. It had beckoned to him back then, but now, he could feel it desperately trying to claw its way out. Like a tide being held back, it yearned to break free of its constraints.

He could feel it in his Heart.

It felt alive.

A pang of resentment twisted in his core.

“See? What did I tell you? No problem at all!” Zunje grinned at him. “Now come on, we gotta -”

“Why did you do it?”

The heat in Danny’s voice surprised them both. Zunje blinked at him behind her large glasses. “Why did I do what?” she asked.

Danny stared fixedly at the Crown in his hands. The resentment twisted deeper, stirring up a storm of nausea. “Why did you guys just leave it there for so long? Why didn’t you even try to put it back together?” He didn’t bother to specify what “it” was.

Zunje was clever enough to pick up on what he was getting at. She focused her eyes on him, and he could practically see the gears turning behind them. “Look,” she said with a resigned sigh, “it’s not that simple.” She glanced at the Crown, and her brow furrowed. “We couldn’t risk hurting it even more, you know? It was in such a fragile state…”

The icy tendrils from the Crown coiled higher on Danny’s fingers. “And you think leaving it there like that for hundreds of years didn’t hurt it?”

“Of course we didn’t think that! Why would you - where is this coming from?”

“It doesn’t matter! And if you knew it was hurting it, then why? Why just abandon it?”

Zunje opened her mouth to retort, but her green-blue eyes fell once more to the Crown. A realization sparked to life within them. “Phan- Danny…” she said slowly, “maybe you should… put that back down? Just for a minute.”

Danny’s core lurched. “Why? It’s mine, right? It’s -”

He stopped as his own words hit him. Horror pierced through the storm of resentment, and he felt the curls of ice slowly begin receding back to the Crown. 

Zunje smiled sadly. “I should’ve known,” she said, floating towards him by a hair. He tensed; the resentment hadn’t completely cooled, after all. “I should’ve known the second I saw that the Crown wasn’t. You know. On fire anymore. Probably should’ve warned you, too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This is the first time you’re like, actually coming into contact with Kilaris. Yeah, you’ve already had the beginnings of a connection, but this is the first real contact. It can be… overwhelming, to say the least.” She gestured half-heartedly to the Crown. “And the fact that it’s already looking like that? Definitely a sign it was just waiting for you to make that contact. Kind of makes sense that it would hit you like a double whammy.”

Danny frowned. “That what would hit me?”

“Kilaris, obviously. It’s establishing that stronger connection, now that you’ve made contact. The Crown looks a lot less fiery than normal because it’s the Heart’s way of showing that it’s ready for you. Since your core is ice-based and all.” Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him. “It’s been waiting for this moment. So it might have gotten a bit… overexcited.”

“I don’t…”

“I mean, think of it this way. I know I haven’t known you that long, of course, but I saw the way you reacted when you called the Crown yours. It was kind of written all over your face, not gonna lie. You weren’t expecting that, were you? It’s because of the connection with the Heart. Now that it’s been established, it’s beginning to influence you.”

Danny chewed on his bottom lip. What Zunje was saying made… some sense, even if he wasn’t particularly fond of it, but the resentment that refused to subside still boiled within him, making it that much harder to process her words. It didn’t help that if what she was saying was true, then that meant…

These battles are not yours to fight, little Prince. Your faithfulness is admirable, but you mustn’t take on the mistakes of the past as your own burden.

The Heart’s words flowed through his head soothingly. He wasn’t crazy thrilled that it apparently had this much influence over him and his emotions, but he didn’t resist it. He was too tired to care, and still recovering from the horror of inadvertently claiming the Crown as his.

“How do I make it stop?” he asked quietly. 

Zunje shrugged. “Right now? Hard to say. But you’ll get used to it, especially once you get the Ring. You only have half of Kilaris right now, so it might be on the fritz more than usual.”

“Great. Awesome.” Danny exhaled. “So this thing is just gonna make me even moodier?”

Even as he spoke, though, he felt the Crown’s cold power seeping through his hands and into his body once again. Like the Heart’s words, the power carried a soothing quality to it, one that finally quieted the storm of nausea and resentment in his stomach.

You have the potential for greatness, little Prince. This bond has much to offer you, should you choose to embrace it. It will only work in your favor.

Danny didn’t respond. His thumb skirted across the surface of the frosty patterns on the Crown. 

Zunje studied him for another moment. “It’ll get better,” she said, her voice gentle. “Over time it will.”

“Yeah, well, I think we’re running a little short on time,” Danny said. He managed to crack the tiniest of smiles. “Unless there’s a magic way to speed it up?”

The tension in Zunje’s shoulders drained. She offered him her own little grin. “Trust me, kid, if there was, you’d be the first to know. For now?” she asked with a wink. “You’ll wing it. And you’ll do great.”

You will do more than great.

He wished he could believe that, as much as he appreciated the vote of confidence.

He pushed that thought away with a shake of his head. “Let’s just get out of here,” he said as he began walking to the door. Turning to look at Zunje, he continued, “The faster we can get home, the more likely we’ll be able to beat Pariah to the punch. I’m just really hoping - oomf!”

Danny’s shoulder collided with something broad and soft. And warm. His heart stuttered to a stop, and with his shoulders creeping up to his ears and dismay stirring his stomach into a frenzy again, he turned to look up at the person blocking his way.

“Going so soon, little badger?” Vlad Masters purred.

There had been a time shortly after first meeting Vlad that Danny had been frightened of the man. He’d never admitted it out loud, of course, and he still probably wouldn’t, even now, but he had been so new to the whole hybrid thing. That was scary enough on its own, but the revelation that the only other person like him in existence had it out for him and his family was downright terrifying. Vlad Plasmius was his own brand of scary. Twenty years more experienced, rich and influential as a human, intimidating and very powerful as a ghost… why wouldn’t Danny be scared? He still hadn’t even had full control over his powers by the time he met Vlad. What hope did a kid like him have against a man so superior to him in every way?

But time passed, and with time came growth. As Danny had grown into his power, he’d grown less scared of Vlad. He seemed less and less like an untouchable foe and more like a guy who was too bitter about his past and devolved into a crazed, fruitloop-flavored rage because of it. It had become fun to mock him and play the part of the cocky, defiant teen hero, just to annoy him. Vlad’s antics became more tiresome than anything, and even in some of the man’s more deranged moments - everything that had happened with Danielle immediately came to mind - Danny had learned to simply go with the flow and realized that a fruitloop was gonna fruitloop.

It helped that beating Vlad became easier too.. Sure, maybe Danny couldn’t beat him up as thoroughly as some of the other ghosts, but he could at least hold him off long enough to trick him or wear him out. Danny didn’t know if it was just Vlad growing complacent or if it was because his own power seemed to grow exponentially. He really hoped it was the former.

(He hated the idea of the latter.)

Either way, it just made Vlad all the more laughable. The man who had once been terrifying had evolved into something ridiculous, worthy of Danny’s mockery. Did it undo the emotional pain Vlad had put him through? Definitely not, but Danny liked to believe the joking and the wisecracks made for decent coping mechanisms.

The man who stood before him now was not the intimidating foe he had first met, nor was he the unhinged fruitloop he had come to know. This man was downright pathetic. Even though his appearance still looked immaculate as ever, his haggard face radiated weariness and apathy. His shoulders sagged, causing his back to hunch and make him look like he was closing in on himself. Those eyes that had once shone with a fiery passion had been dulled to nothing more than smoldering ash. 

Danny may have had a reputation for being completely clueless, but the sheer pitifulness emanating from Vlad was too palpable to ignore. The dusty taste on Danny’s tongue only confirmed it. This was a man who had long since fallen from grace, who had lost everything that gave him purpose. This was a man who had everything and nothing at the same time.

And Danny felt… sympathy.

It was so foreign, he could barely fathom it. This was the same man who had tried to kill him and his father on multiple occasions, steal his mother away, and overall just make his life as miserable as possible. How could he stand here and feel sorry for the guy? And for what? Him just looking more pathetic than normal?

Your heart is pure, little Prince. It is only natural that you should feel this way.

Danny wanted to snap back that no, this was anything but natural. He didn’t care if it meant his heart was “pure” or whatever, he should not be feeling this way under any circumstances. He didn’t want to feel this way about Vlad. Not in the slightest.

He set his jaw and tightened his grip on the Crown. “Believe me,” he said, his voice devoid of humor, “I didn’t want to come in the first place. I’m only doing this because I have to.”

Vlad sneered. “You have to? No one has forced you to come here, little badger. You chose to come. You could’ve chosen not to. You could’ve chosen anything but this. But no. You just needed to rub it in my face one last time, didn’t you?”

“What?” Vlad’s words left Danny reeling. “What are you talking about? I didn’t even know you had this thing! I came for it, not you! Jeez, do you have to make everything about you?”

“I could ask you the same question!” Vlad fired back. “Why must you barge in and ruin everything? Why do you feel this need to see me suffer?”

“Uh, considering that 99 percent of the time, your plans involve hurting me or someone else in some way? Of course I’m gonna ruin those plans! And if you’re getting all bent out of shape over it, that’s not my problem!”

Zunje glanced back and forth between them. “I can see this is a… personal matter, so I’m just gonna… y’know. Leave you to it.” With an awkward thumbs up, she backed through the wall, leaving the two hybrids alone. Neither of them noticed her leave.

“Not all of my plans involve you, Daniel,” Vlad growled as he took a step forward. “And it is incredibly immature for you to think they do.”

Danny’s blood boiled. The anger distracted him from noticing the quiet crackle of frost, or the way the inside of his cloak began to glow brighter.

He certainly didn’t notice the pink tint of the glow.

“Stop treating me like I’m three years old!” he shouted. “At least I’m not the one who’s totally obsessed with trying to get things he can’t have!”

“And anything I can have, you must take from me.” Vlad’s eyes left Danny’s face and drifted down to the Crown in his hands.

Danny noticed the shift in his attention and laughed hollowly. “You think I want this? This is, like, the last thing that I want!” 

“You’ll have to forgive me if I have a hard time believing that.”

“Oh my God, can you get it through your thick skull? I wouldn’t be taking it if it wasn’t the only way I can, you know, stop the end of the world.”

Vlad paused, his brow furrowing. “Well, now you’re just being overdramatic.”

“Yeah? Tell that to the maniac who’s trying to waste my town all over again! Or this stupid Heart that’s trying to rip the worlds apart because someone had this Crown here all along!” Danny could feel his heart beating faster as the temperature around him dropped, but he was too frazzled to care. Too tired. 

“What on Earth are you talking about, boy?”

Danny’s breathing became shallower, crystallizing in the colder air. “I don’t even know anymore!” he said, his voice escalating towards hysterics. “I’m barely keeping up with everything as is! I can’t… I really don’t think I can handle much more right now, alright? Not when I’ve gotta fight the only guy who’s ever come close to really killing me! And then I’m supposed to just… become a king? Just like that?”

Vlad opened his mouth to respond, but it was too late. The mental toll from this day that just wouldn’t end weighed on Danny too much. His emotions snowballed faster than he could even really process, not even giving Vlad a chance to speak. “Never mind the fact that I’m sixteen! I’m not even a full ghost!” he ranted. “I still don’t even have a clue how most of this stuff works, and everyone expects me to have it together and be some sort of leader, and I can’t! I’m not cut out for this; all that’s gonna happen is people are just gonna be disappointed in me! I’m just…”

He realized his mistake too late. 

He dropped to his knees, hitting the plush rug with a thud. The cloak pooled around him, glowing brighter and brighter yet. Frost crackled dangerously and quickly spread from underneath him all over the rug. He hugged his arms tight to his chest. 

His heart and core pulsed frantically. Distantly, he could feel the power in the Crown reaching out to him again, trying to seep into him again and calm him down, but he was beyond the point of no return. 

Something hot spiked through his core and twisted hard. 

The little Prince has finally come to his senses, the voice of Pariah Dark sneered. You can’t escape your fears, boy. Now that you’ve made them real.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

He’d made them real. He’d made everything real.

Tears began to leak from his eyes, freezing on his cheeks. His breaths had turned into sobs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in the tiny part that hadn’t devolved into pure panic, he cursed himself for showing this kind of weakness in front of his worst enemy. It was bad enough to start panicking like this in front of anyone. It was even worse for it to happen in front of the guy he hated the most.

He was vaguely aware of said man muttering curses as he picked his way over the frost  to Danny. “Honestly, Daniel,” he said. His voice sounded muddy, like it was underwater. “Let’s cut the melodramatics, hm? This is beneath even you.”

But Danny couldn’t. He couldn’t focus on what Vlad was saying, couldn’t focus on anything except the repeated, disjointed thoughts swirling around his brain in a whirlpool. The hot knife in his core. His fingers gripping the Crown tighter and tighter, like a lifeline.

It was real. Everything. 

He was supposed to become king.

He didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t deny it any longer. Not after spilling his guts like that. In front of Vlad. 

God, it was all really happening.

Through the tears blurring his vision, he watched as Vlad crouched down in front of him. He tried to yell at Vlad, tried to tell him to just leave him alone, but all that came out of his mouth was a pathetic blubber. 

Why couldn’t Sam and Tucker be here? Or Jazz? Or Frostbite or Clockwork or even Zunje? Anyone but Vlad.

(Really, he’d just prefer to be alone entirely. The thought of anyone seeing him in such a vulnerable state was enough to make his stomach churn even more.)

Vlad reached out to Danny. Danny flinched away, but it didn’t matter. His movements were too shaky, too stilted, too slow to avoid Vlad’s hand meeting his shoulder. As soon as he touched Danny, though, Vlad drew his hand back with a hiss and began shaking it out. “You and your ice core,” he muttered. Danny didn’t know exactly what he meant, but if it meant Vlad had to leave him alone, he’d take it.

Except it meant Vlad just stared at him that much more. His skin prickled under the man’s intense gaze, only making the panic worse. Being under such scrutiny…

Somehow, it was worse than being under the scrutiny of his friends. Or the entire Ancient Council. 

Especially because Vlad was watching him as though he couldn’t decide what to do with Danny.

Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose. “I honestly can’t believe I’m saying this,” he began, “but you are better than this. This… nonsense. This is not the boy I know. You are…”

Something in Vlad’s voice caught Danny off guard, enough to quiet the swirling thoughts and hiccuped sobs, even for just a moment. Enough to give him the clarity of mind to taste something in the air, something warm and smooth and sweet, like hot chocolate.

For the briefest of moments, the two hybrids locked their gazes together. 

And Danny saw something different in Vlad’s eyes. Something he’d never seen in Vlad before. Something that sent his head reeling, bringing his panic to a screeching halt.

He stared. The glow within his cloak began to dim. “What do you mean?” he asked hoarsely.

In a very un-Vlad-like move, Vlad averted his eyes. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

If he knew, then he wouldn’t be caught in the throes of mind-numbing confusion. “Then why avoid saying it?”

Danny expected Vlad to snap at him, to tell him that no, Vlad Masters did not avoid anything, but the man continued to keep his eyes fixed on the Crown in Danny’s lap. The sweet taste on Danny’s tongue turned to sour citrus.

The taste of anxiety.

Finally, Vlad inhaled deeply. Shakily. “Because why would I want to inflate your teenage ego any more than it already has been?” A tiny smile graced his lips.

Danny blinked in surprise. The banter wouldn’t have been out of place in any of their other fights, but it hadn’t been spoken with the same vitriol Danny had come to expect. There was a tenderness behind Vlad’s words. It was the kind of joke shared by old friends who had no problems poking fun at each other. 

And it felt… genuine.

Which sent Danny’s mind spiraling into confusion even more than it already had been. He didn’t understand where this side of Vlad was coming from, or why it had appeared so suddenly, in the wake of Danny’s turmoil. It was almost like -

( - “you actually want to help me?” - )

Before Danny could even begin to process just what that meant, Vlad closed his eyes with a sigh. “You really do need to get over this, though,” he said. “If you are to have any hope of defeating Pariah Dark again, you cannot let your… insecurities mar your judgment.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Danny muttered half-heartedly, wiping at the trails of icy crystals on his cheeks.

“Perhaps you do, but you are doing a terrible job of showing it.”

“Well what do you expect?” Danny shook his head in exasperation. “I just got told an hour ago that my whole life is being turned upside down because I’m supposed to become king of the entire freaking Infinite Realms. So, you know. Sorry if I’m kind of being thrown for a loop by that.”

Vlad’s jaw tightened, and Danny didn’t miss the angry flash in the man’s eyes as he glanced at the Crown. Oddly enough, Danny found it comforting. An angry, bitter Vlad, he was used to. Not whatever Vlad had just inadvertently shown him.

At least having an angry Vlad meant that something in his life was still normal. And the way Vlad kept looking at the Crown, as if it was his…

Realization struck Danny. “Where did you get this?” he asked quietly, lifting the Crown up.

Vlad’s eyes widened the slightest bit. He cleared his throat. “I thought it would’ve been obvious.

“You know what I mean,” Danny said with an eye roll. “When did you get this?”

“I thought that would’ve been obvious too.”

“Well, it’s not.”

Vlad hummed. “I suppose you were in such a precarious condition… I couldn’t expect you to remember.”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat. “Remember what?”

“Cheese and crackers, Daniel, must I spell it out for you?” Vlad snapped. “How do you think you got back to your house?”

Danny faltered for a moment. “I - I guess I just assumed Sam and Tuck came and got me…”

“Please,” Vlad scoffed. “You would’ve long since Ended by the time they would’ve been able to find you. Your father’s suit would’ve eaten up whatever last bit of energy you were clinging on to by then.”

The LED display flashing an ominous 1% manifested in Danny’s head. “Don’t remind me,” he said with a shudder. He hesitated, then, “So… you…?”

It was Vlad’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, Daniel. I found you. I brought you back home.”

“But… the Ecto-Skeleton… how did you find me before it… you know…”

Vlad didn’t answer at first. Instead, he chewed on his lip, deep in thought. The same sour taste of anxiety filled Danny’s mouth. He couldn’t decide what was more unsettling - a sweeter Vlad or an anxious Vlad.

Probably both.

It was a full minute of tense silence between the two before Vlad slowly reached into the inside of his suit pocket. He pulled out a key the color of ectoplasm, carved with a skull for the handle and hundreds of runes Danny couldn’t understand running along its length. The key radiated power. It was a stagnant power - very different from the Crown’s pulsing, living power - but it was a powerful artifact, nonetheless. He didn’t need to ask to know.

And then it hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

“It was you,” he said, his voice hollow. “You’re the one who…”

“Locked the king away? Got you out of that suit before it could waste you?” Vlad’s mouth twitched up into a smug smile. “You’re welcome.”

“You saved my life.”

That wiped the smile off of Vlad’s face. He ran a thumb over the Skeleton Key. “I suppose if you want to put it that way, yes.”

Danny’s brow furrowed. “But… why?”

He saw it again. That same look in Vlad’s eye that he’d seen earlier that afternoon, right after he’d asked the man what should’ve been a simple question. A question he’d intended to be sarcastic more than anything, but that Vlad had apparently taken very seriously.

And in that instant, the weary, pathetic Vlad that had first entered the room re-emerged. The same warm, sweet taste exploded to life in Danny’s mouth.

He didn’t understand.

Just like before, though, Vlad tried to shake it off immediately, quite literally. He shook his head. “Honestly, what good would it do for me and my plans if you died? You’re much more useful to me alive than dead.”

Normally, such a statement would’ve provoked Danny into losing his temper. He would’ve lunged at Vlad to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be the pawn in yet another plan. This time, though, the anger didn’t come. Only that same confusion.

Vlad had once told him that they were more alike than Danny wanted to admit. At the time, he’d denied it vehemently, but now, Danny found himself wondering if that wasn’t such an inaccurate statement. The only other person he knew that tried to hide his true feelings like this was… himself.

So what was Vlad trying so desperately to hide?

The temptation to confront him about it was intense, but Danny swallowed it down. He didn’t have the time nor the mental energy to figure out why Vlad was going all weird on him. Not now, anyway. 

And so instead, with a sincerity he wasn’t expecting, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Danny wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it definitely hadn’t been for Vlad to avert his gaze once again. Sweet once again melted into sour. 

Vlad sighed. “Yes, well… don’t make me have to come bail you out again, my boy. I might not be so nice next time.”

Danny stared at the Crown in his hands for what felt like the hundredth time. For the first time since picking it up, his fingers relaxed around the cold metal. Never had he expected to be able to let down his guard around Vlad Masters, but something about what the man was attempting to hide…

When one wants something, they must show they are willing to reciprocate that thing first, little Prince.

The Heart’s words echoed in his head. Danny wasn’t too keen on them; he wanted to argue that Vlad could read him like an open book, that he couldn’t hide anything from his older counterpart. And yet…

Danny took a deep breath. “You could come with me, you know,” he said, his voice still quiet. “We could use your help… I mean, you know, I could use your help…”

Vlad studied him closely. As difficult as it was, Danny resisted the urge to flinch under his gaze. He couldn’t read minds, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see the gears turning in Vlad’s head. The man was contemplating something, something deep…

A bitter glint reflected in Vlad’s eyes as he looked down at the Crown. Too late, Danny realized he had been a fool to lower his defenses. Faster than he could react, Vlad’s hands darted out and snatched the Crown out of Danny’s grasp.

He tried to shout and take it back, but the loss of the Crown hit him like a brick wall. The air left his lungs in one fell swoop, as though Vlad had punched him in the gut. On instinct, his hand flew up to his sternum, right above his core. Without the Crown and the Heart’s power, his core felt like it had been ripped out of him, hollowed out, and shoved back in, broken. Whitenoise filled his ears, and his cloak flared to life once more, trying to make up for the sudden loss in energy. Those efforts proved futile; each second without the Crown felt impossibly long, felt like he was losing more and more.

Panic stole his breath away. He needed it back. He needed it.

And just as quickly as it had struck him, it disappeared. His hollow core filled back up, and the panic subsided. He opened his eyes to see Vlad shaking out his hands, lighting up his fingertips with his hot pink energy in an attempt to melt the ice that coated them. The Crown was nowhere in sight.

Danny almost launched himself at Vlad and demanded to know where it was, but the feeling of something cold resting on his head stopped him dead in his tracks.

With a shaking hand, he reached up. His fingers brushed against the cold metal and the intricate patterns of frost.

He floundered for his words. “I - I don’t… you…”

Vlad stopped shaking his hands long enough to look at Danny. A smile grew on his face, but it was a sad smile, one weighed down by twenty-plus years’ worth of pain and bitter emotions. 

“Good luck, little badger,” he said, and then he blinked out of sight, leaving Danny and the Crown alone in the office.

For a moment, Danny sat there stunned, trying to process what had just happened. What Vlad had just done. Why Vlad had done it. 

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to.

Zunje flew up through the floor. “Ohmigosh, did you beat him?” I mean I’m assuming you did, ‘cause I was waiting, you know, for his ectosignature to disappear and - hey! You put the Crown on!” She laughed sheepishly. “I thought we were gonna have to force it on your head, in all honesty.”

Danny barely heard her. He simply stared at the space where Vlad had been kneeling, his body and mind numb all over. Encounters with Vlad often left him reeling, but this one…

The distant sound of a whining engine fast approaching shook him out of his stupor. He frowned and twisted his upper body around just in time to see the huge windows blow open and a figure - no, two figures - sweep into the office on a hoverboard.

Valerie Gray checked the scanner on her gauntlet, then looked straight into Danny’s eyes. His breath caught in his throat (and not just because her eyes were really pretty, thank you very much. He was definitely over that. Yep. Absolutely.).

The Crown and Zunje’s presence were pretty much dead giveaways on their own, but somehow, he could just tell she already knew. 

He waved at her shyly. “Hey, Red.”

Valerie’s face remained stoic, but a storm brewed within her eyes. He just hoped it wasn’t a storm of anger. “Phantom.”

Wes Weston peered around Valerie’s shoulder, his face an off-putting shade of green. “What the hell are you wearing, Fenton?” 

Danny couldn’t resist. “None of your business, Weston.” Hesitantly, he turned back to Valerie. “What are you doing here?”

“Your sister,” she grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “She told me I had to find you.”

Danny’s stomach sank like a stone. “Is it really that bad?”

“Considering the sky is trying to rip itself open and I had to leave Jazz to fight off a bunch of undead skeletons? Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty bad.”

“The sky is ripping open?” Zunje asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement and curiosity. Valerie flinched, and her hand twitched toward the ecto-gun strapped to her waist, but to her credit, she didn’t actually grab it. 

“Yeah, and Jazz thinks you somehow know how to fix it,” Wes said with a pointed look in Danny’s direction.

The Crown felt heavier on his head. “You could say that.”

As if she could read his mind, Valerie’s eyes drifted up to the Crown. “Right,” she said slowly. “Are you and your… friend done here? Because we kinda gotta get back to Amity ASAP. Especially if you’re gonna fix things. And it took us forever to get here as it is.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Zunje said, bubbly as ever. “We should be able to find a portal pretty easily.” She threw an eye over to Danny, but she didn’t comment further.

He didn’t understand what that was about. 

Shakily, he stood and flashed into Phantom. No sense in hiding it now. Not if Jazz had already had to spill the beans. Still, he couldn’t help but flinch as Valerie’s eyes grew wide as she witnessed his transformation for the first time. It probably didn’t help that the Crown remained perched on his head.

Finally in its rightful place.

“Stop it,” he hissed under his breath. Despite his irritation, somehow, the return to his banter with the Heart soothed his turmoiled soul. 

“Who are you talking to?” Wes demanded.

The other three ignored him. Valerie, still stunned from Danny’s change, took a deep breath. It hit Danny that this was probably still a lot for her to process. “You ready?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

In all truthfulness? He was the furthest thing from ready. Part of him still wanted to live in denial, but it was too late for that now. Things were real and happening.

He was about to fight Pariah again.

He was about to try and stop the end of the world.

He was about to become King.

Just an average Thursday, right?

He took in one last deep breath. “I sure hope so.”

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

The Wormhole, Part 1

Long time no see, Tumblr friends!  To put it simply, college and real life have been my focus for these past few months and now that things are (hopefully) slowing down a bit for the summer, I hope to maybe scroll this hellsite more often than once a month.  

Writer’s block has also been defeated (for the moment) and I’ve got a fun new story in the works.  This one here is just one I’ve been sitting on for awhile.  Enjoy!  

Character Relationships:  Thorin Oakenshield x Modern!Female OC

Content Warning(s):  Mentions of manipulative behavior from an ex-boyfriend and his appearance.

Summary:  Reverse of the “Girl falls into Middle Earth” trope.  Thorin finds himself mysteriously transported to the modern world after surviving BOTFA and winds up in the care of a New York Academy of Arts teacher, Estel Cavanah.  She has no idea why this man is so incompetent with the day’s technology.  

“…And as you can see, the honey shade matches up pretty well with Nashville blue.  The darker tones cool the orange.”  I paused to glance at the clock on the other side of the room.  The neon red numbers signaled the looming end of my class period.

Or, by the way my students were shuffling in their seats and surreptitiously packing away pen and paper, perhaps it was more of a couldn’t-come-soon-enough.  

“Seeing as we are almost out of time, I’ll let you all go. See you on Friday!”  I smiled as the room immediately erupted into a flurry of movement.  The students, all eager to head home to relax at the end of a long day, feverishly packed up the last of their things and filed out of the room.  It was almost insulting how quickly they wanted to leave my class.  But I could understand their hurry; I had been a student once, and no matter how much I loved art, sometimes I couldn’t wait to get out of the classroom.

I turned to my own desk to pack up my stuff for the day, only to pause when a knock broke the silence.  Annoyance sprung to life at the thought of having to spend more time here when I could be at home.

Slowly, I turned around, wondering what student had dropped by.  But it wasn’t a student.  The person wasn’t even a resident of the state!

“Zach, what are you doing here?!”  I asked incredulously, unable to believe that the man was even standing in my doorway.  “You live in North Carolina!”  

“I came here to talk with you,” he said.  I shot him a look.  

“Zach, there is a reason phones were invented. Besides, what is so important that you come up to New York without calling me?”  I asked, propping my hands on my hips.  Then another thought occurred to me.  A much darker and more disturbing thought.  “How did you even know where I was?  We haven’t talked since high school!”

Zach just shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walked further into my classroom.  “That’s not really important, Estel—”  

“Oh, I really think it is…”

“…I just wanted to see if you wanted to get back together.  I think we made a mistake when we broke up.”  Zach kept walking, and I began to feel the cold chills of anxiety trickle down my spine.  I stepped behind my desk, putting it between me and him.

I really didn’t think he would do anything, but at the same time, it felt like a very real possibility.

“Zach, we dated in high school.  We’re adults now.  If it didn’t work out then, I don’t think it will work out now.  Now, get out of here before I call security.”  I made a show of picking up my cell phone and unlocking it.  

He stopped walking, finally taking his hands out of his pockets to raise them in the air.  “Woah, slow down girl.  Let’s just talk, okay?  Just because we didn’t work out in high school doesn’t mean we won’t work out now.”

“I really don’t think it does…  And don’t tell me what to do, Zach.  You’re the one who’s shown up out of the blue after stalking me!” My finger hovered over the keypad on my phone, waiting to dial the campus police.  

“I’m not stalking you!”  The words burst out of Zach like an avalanche.  Immediately, his face became apologetic, and he took another step towards me.  “I’m sorry, that was rude of me, Estel…”

Instantly, I was brought back to my days as a high schooler trying to figure out both my life and manage a boyfriend at the same time. Everything pointed towards us becoming high school sweethearts.  Then one day the daydream shattered.  I was introduced to just who my boyfriend really was, and he wasn’t the man I had thought he was.  

Early on in our relationship, he’d stood behind me in my goals and dreams.  When I said that I wanted to be a teacher, he told me to follow my heart.  But when the topic came up again a few months later, he wasn’t as supportive.  

To put a long story short, he wanted to get married young and start a family.  My going away to college in a different state would put a damper on his goals.  That made me the selfish one in the relationship.

And he didn’t want that.  He did his best to hold on to our relationship and convince me to stay with him, but in the end I had to be true to myself and follow the path my heart was leading me on.  

I wasn’t sad when it ended; I felt freer than I had felt in what seemed like forever.  And the saying about hindsight being 20/20 was a constant presence in my mind as I went over our relationship.  I noticed manipulative behaviors that I hadn’t picked up on before. I realized how lucky I was to get out of it early.  To be true enough to myself not to give up my dreams for a guy.

Gathering my courage, I slipped my laptop into my bag. “No, I don’t want to hear anything from you.  We aren’t ever getting back together, Zach.  I don’t even know why you would think that.  Now, I have to go.”  Grabbing my bag, I slung it over my shoulder.  Holding my phone—keypad at the ready—I marched past Zach.

I left him behind just like I had all those years ago.  No glances over my shoulder for one last glimpse.  I just wanted to go home where I felt safe.  

The walk to my car had never felt longer, even in the broad daylight.  Clicking the button on my fob to unlock it, I pulled open the door and threw my bag in before climbing into the driver seat.  As I sat and collected my bearings, a niggling thought rose in my brain.

If Zach knew where I was teaching, chances were he knew exactly where I lived.  Right down to the apartment number.  

All of a sudden, home no longer felt as comforting. It felt dangerous to go back to, despite how much I wanted to.  And I had no choice.

Scanning the parking lot, I pulled out of my space.

~~~

I showed up early at the stable I worked at part-time, not feeling safe at my apartment.  Coincidentally, it was also owned by my brother who was too busy managing the family estates down in Havana to spend much time managing it.  That job fell to me as his little sister.  

The black sheep of the family.

I could only hope that Zach didn’t know about it. Maybe I could buy a sleeping bag and camp out in one of the empty stalls for the night…  Or text Ash and see if I could crash at her apartment for the night. She wouldn’t refuse me.

At least, not if her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Mike, wasn’t around.  Then I really didn’t want to be in the same flat.

Pulling out my phone, I unlocked it and began typing out the message to her when the bugling of a stallion ripped through the air. I frowned, the noise out of place at the normally serene stable.  

Then I heard the screaming.  

Shoving my phone in my pocket and throwing open the door, I bolted out of my car and towards the one pasture that contained a stallion.  The most ill-tempered beast I’d ever had the displeasure of handling.  Although, given that I didn’t get involved too much with horses, wasn’t really saying much.

Quickly catching up to a teen who was also hurrying towards the commotion, I grabbed their arm to stop them.  “Grab a lead rope!”  I gasped before taking off again.  I could only wonder which cocky new teenage boy had decided that he would be the one guy Ferrari—the stallion—liked.  

And exactly how much legal trouble I was about to get into.

Turning the corner to the gate of the paddock, I stopped and did a double take.  The man currently dangling from the mouth of the bay stud definitely was not one of the kids employed here.  Nor did he look like the sort that frequented prestigious stables like this one.  He looked more like a well-kept hobo than anything.

“GET THIS BLOODY HORSE OFF ME!”  The man bellowed, catching sight of me standing like an idiot on the outside of the paddock.  

I snapped out of the daze I’d gone into and looked around wildly for the stable hand I’d stopped earlier.  “Where’s a lead rope!?”

I was answered only by a stream of curses from the man as Ferrari shook him like a ragdoll.  Then pounding footsteps heralded the arrival of the kid with a lead rope.  

Snatching it out of his hand, I jumped the fence and sprinted towards the grappling pair.  “Ferrari!”  I screamed, trying to get his attention on me and away from the unknown man.  “Ferrari!”  

But the stallion paid no attention to me and continued to grind his teeth into the shoulder of the man he had cornered.  

As Ferrari tightened his grip, the man swung at him, calling him a variety of colourful names as he tried to pull away from the stallion.  

I darted in, clipping the lead rope onto Ferrari’s halter.  Then I swatted his rump with the end of the rope to get his attention.  Instantly, Ferrari dropped the man and went after me. Jumping out of the way of his teeth, I waved my hands at the man now crumpled on the ground.

“Get out of the pasture!  Go!”  I yelled at him, dodging Ferrari again.  “He hates men!”  

The man didn’t move, and I began to worry about what it would mean if he was dead.  Probably more legal troubles than if he was injured, that was for sure.  Beckett was going to be absolutely thrilled.  

“Estel, I’ll take him!”  A feminine voice called, and I shot a quick glance over my shoulder towards the stable.  Chelsea—one of the most experienced horsewomen employed here—was jogging towards me.  

As she approached, Ferrari began to calm down.  Chelsea had a way with him that none of the other female employees had.  His ears were stilled pinned tightly back and he danced in place, but he wasn’t trying to bite me anymore.

“Hey, Ferrari…”  She cooed, taking the lead rope from me, and stroking his nose.  Ferrari snorted suspiciously.  “Come here, boy.  Let’s get you inside, huh?”  She pulled gently on the rope and led Ferrari away.

That left me with the unfortunate man who had found himself in Ferrari’s pasture.  As I ran over to him, he suddenly pushed himself up off the ground, clutching his shoulder and grimacing in pain.

“Sir, are you alright?”  I asked, dropping onto my knees beside him.  From a distance, he’d looked like one of the bums that littered the streets of New York, but up close was a different story.

He obviously had some concept of hygiene—he certainly smelled nice—and his beard was neatly trimmed.  And as he raised his head to look at me, he revealed startling blue eyes that pierced me with a distrusting gaze.  

“I’m fine.”  He spat in a voice that carried the thickness of an unfamiliar accent.  “Where am I?”

“Blacktop Stables in New York.  Now, I think I should take a look at your shoulder. Ferrari is a man-hater, and it looked like he had you good.”  I reached out to gently pull his hand away from his shoulder.

He let out a short laugh.  “Horses have never liked me.  You have healer training then?”  He asked, resisting my attempts to pull his hand away so I could look at Ferrari’s handiwork.

“If by healer training, you mean medical training, then yes, I know a little.”  He dropped his hand, revealing a slobber-soaked fur vest.  “Umm…  I think I’ll need you to remove your shirt…”  

He grunted, unbuckling the belt that held the vest closed before shrugging it off.  A dark blue, velvet looking coat followed directly after.  The movement of his arm caused him to grimace and let out a hiss of pain.  Beneath it was a metallic sort of shirt that looked like some sort of armor.  He pulled the armor shirt over his head, leaving him in only a blue shirt that reached almost to his knees.  

“Blast…”  He hissed through clenched teeth.  Gingerly, he lowered his injured arm back to his side.

By this point, I felt like I was watching the clothing version of a clown car.  I couldn’t help but wonder if he had another two shirts underneath this one.  

Unbuttoning what I guessed was called a ‘tunic’, his upper body was finally revealed.  And it made the artist in me want to weep tears of joy.

If ever there was a perfect body, he had to have it. Thick, muscled arms hung from broad shoulders.  There wasn’t a speck of fat on his torso to hide the chiseled abs this man possessed. And he was able to make it look like the most natural thing in the world, unlike some of those shirtless male models I had tried to use as inspiration in the past.  

“You said you have healer training?”  

The distinctly masculine voice broke me out of my…reverie.  Quickly, I focused my gaze on his face.  Away from the abs that I was itching to sketch.  

“Uh, yeah.  Let me take a look here…”  I peered at the bite mark on his shoulder.  Ferrari had left him deep indents of his teeth, but the skin hadn’t been broken.  Already I could see the purple bruising characteristic with horse bites forming in a wide circle around the bite marks.  His excessive layers of clothes had saved him from a much worse injury.

Not that he wouldn’t go through hell in the coming weeks.  Bites of this severity literally made you unable to move the arm without excruciating pain for weeks.  

“Will I live?”  The question was quiet, and I glanced up to see a whisper of a smile on his face.  Oddly, I got the sense that this wasn’t an unfamiliar question for him to ask.  

“I can almost guarantee you will,” I shot him a small smile.  “Just put some ice on it, take some ibuprofen, and try not to use that arm much for a few weeks.”

He frowned.  “Ibuprofen?  What is that?”

The fact that he was unaware of one of the most basic over-the-counter drugs was baffling.  Everybody knew what ibuprofen was!  

“It’s a medicine you can take if the bite hurts too much.  And from what I’ve heard, a bite like yours hurts like hell.”  I explained, leaning back on my heels.  “If you aren’t able to get any, I could give you some.”  

“No, I’ve had worse than a horse bite.”  He dismissed my offering.  “Now, you said we were in someplace called New York?  Is that on the Anduin?”

I stared at him.  “The Anduin?  I’ve never heard of that.  New York is a state in the United States.  East coast?”  

The look I got back told me he’d never heard of any of it.

This whole thing was weird.  First he showed up out of the blue in Ferrari’s pasture.  The same pasture that had seven-foot fencing supplemented with electric wire and was surrounded by private ground.  And somebody would have stopped him inside the stable.  

Second, there was the whole deal with his clothing.  It looked nothing like anything made today. That and he wore armor.  To be quite frank, it didn’t even look like it was from this world.

Third, he had never heard of the US before, and he was living in it.  

Or maybe I was turning into one of those off-the-grid hippies who believed in UFOs.  There had to be a logical explanation for all this.  It wasn’t like he actually had come from a different world.  That was preposterous.

He probably just hit his head or something when Ferrari was slinging him around.  I reasoned with myself.  He’s probably just a little confused right now.

Standing up, I motioned for the man to join me. “Follow me and I can get you a bandage for your shoulder…”  I paused, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Thorin,” the man supplied with a nod of his head.  “At your service.”

“Estel, uh, at yours.”  I fumbled, hoping I hadn’t just entered into some deal with the man.  Turning around, I took one look at the stables and felt my heart stop beating in my chest.

Zach was standing at the gate of the paddock.

“Oh, no….”  I whispered, frozen in place.  I’d felt so sure that he’d had no idea that I worked here.  Beckett certainly didn’t advertise by using me.  “He followed me…”  

“Is something wrong?”  Thorin asked from behind me.  I looked back over my shoulder at him, taking in his broad frame. He had his clothes bundled up in his arms, hiding his torso from the world.  Dark brown hair sprawled across his shoulders, untamed by any sort of hair tie.

“Um,” I looked back over at Zach.  He was staring at Thorin; a small frown on his face as he took him in.  Automatically, I began formulating my “it’s not what you think” speech in my head.  I knew what it looked like.  A man and a woman out in a field, alone.

Except…That was exactly what would get him off my back. If I was a taken woman, he couldn’t come after me.  

“Thorin, I know this is asking a lot, given that we don’t know each other, but I really need you to pretend you’re my boyfriend. He,” I nodded over in Zach’s direction, “is my ex from a long time ago and he’s been stalking me, trying to get back together.  I just need you to pretend for like a day and then we can part ways.”  I pleaded, looking up into light blue eyes.  

Thorin stared back at me, then glanced up to look at Zach.  “You don’t want his attentions?”  He asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I just want him to leave me alone,” I sighed. The defeat I felt over my helplessness must have carried into my voice, because the iciness began to fade from his eyes.  

“You’ve told him this?”  His voice took on a gentler tone.

“I made it very clear, and he obviously didn’t listen.”

“Then I will pretend to be your…boyfriend.”  He agreed, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  Instantly, his tough, rough-hewn aura faded to be replaced with a sense of security. “He will not lay a finger on you, Miss Estel.”

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[badnew2005]

LED ME TO THE FLOOR EVEN THOUGH IM NOT A DANCER (you showed me how to enjoy life, to do things that made me happy rather than who i thought i should be. dennis vs sinned. introduced me to a whole new life (charlie and the bar) and i couldn’t be happier. still some part of me thinks i should be Someone Else (life with maureen and mandy) but i know i’m happiest when i’m here with you) ASK ME ALL THE QUESTIONS THAT YOUR PARENTS WOULDNT ANSWER (same vein i showed you the way even though i’d never been. introducing mac to the idea that being gay is okay. pushing him to come out. they both taught eachother a new way of life, how to be happy. things that were hidden in their upbringing. dennis loving country mac because he’s out and comfortable with his sexuality)

HOW COULD I DENY A DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH (dennis inventing someone else to blame for creating the systems he lives his life through and the pain they caused. taking his heart out of his chest and making a diamond. following the dennis system should have made him a diamond, that version of himself “should” have made him into a diamond. if he had applied enough pressure. but it didn’t. it left him in pain. hating himself. wanting to die, desperately wishing to be someone else in every sense of the word (never escaping it). having mac think of making diamonds in the pressure cooker. he’s a genius and well loved by the gang now. he’s come out. how could i deny a diamond in the rough? how could i deny myself of you for so long? i’m the best version of me when i’m with you.) YOU LET ME IN YOUR WORLD UNTIL YOU HAD ENOUGH (macdennis making the closet (that hole in the wall) their home. dennis as an unreliable narrator (what’s actually happening what’s actual long being said and done out loud is hard to keep track of. it’s harder when i know the pains all my fault) we were happy in the closet i would’ve stayed hidden pretending to be other people with you forever. but you came out. and it changed everything) YOU KNEW THAT I WANTED YOU TO BEND THE RULES (it’s not your fault. i pushed you out (and stole the parachute) i forced you to come out. i wasn’t clear. i don’t know how i expected this to work out. shouting and begging for you to just come out but wishing against it every day.) HOW DID I BELIEVE I HAD A HOLD ON YOU (i’m sorry. i don’t know what i expected. i think i’ve spent too long pretending to be someone else, making You into someone else. i need to try and live in reality for once. it’s hard) YOU WERE ALWAYS STRONGER THAN PEOPLE SUSPECTED (i kind of hoped you would fail out of the closet. get malnourished without me. (im the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror. i want to make you as lonely as me so you can get addicted to this) we made the closet our home but then i spun you around, blindfolded and stole your parachute before pushing you out of a moving aircraft. i kind of hoped you would get caught in the trees or splattered on some rocks. but you survived. you thrived out there. started creating a life without me) UNDERESTIMATED AND OVERPROTECTED (i’m sorry i make everyone mean to you. i was too scared they saw how much i liked you so. had to introduce poison (like a thirteen year old with a crush. but i guess that’s all i am with you- happy and in love and excited and terrified and Young again). i promise i don’t hate you really. i don’t think they do either.)

WHEN I WENT AWAY IT WAS THE ONLY OPTION (tends bar a glimpse into dennis Being Real. saying Something out loud. frustrated that the gang couldn’t see him. but mac did. mac could see Though him. that was too scary, it’s childish but it’s true. couldn’t handle the truth. the possibilities that could bring. dennis had been fighting for so long he had to run away (finally take flight) there was no other option. he wasn’t as strong as mac.) COULDNT TRUST MYSELF TO PROCEED WITH CAUTION (the thought of you knowing me was too much. i didn’t know what i would say or do. i’m sorry. i’m selfish if nothing else, but i don’t think that’s new) THE MOST THAT I COULD GIVE TO YOU IS NOTHING AT ALL (i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry. i wish i was someone else. someone better. but that’s all i’ve ever done and look where it’s ended up. i had to leave you get that right. it wasn’t your fault, not really. i’m sorry i pretended it was. and told everyone you were horrible and needy when that’s really me. i wish i could just Say something to you, anything real. but i would tell you anything you wanted to hear cause that’s just who i am. i promise me leaving was better for us both. im afraid i would have killed you and myself if i had stayed. a messed up xerox of romeo and juliet i guess.) THE BEST THAT I COULD OFFER WAS TO MISS YOUR CALLS (to separate entirely. give you a wrong number. try and cut off comepletey so i could be someone else someone new. but of course i still ended up crawling back home. maybe you’ve learnt how to live alone but i’m still weaned on your love.)

[whileiamdying]

We’ll Never Live in a World Without Tina Turner

Nothing could ever scare the fire out of her voice, which carried the whole story of American music in it

BY ROB SHEFFIELD MAY 24, 2023

DENIZE ALAIN/SYGMA/GETTY IMAGES

Tina Turner didn’t just pull off the greatest comeback in music history — she invented the whole concept of the comeback as we know it. She became a solo superstar when she was 44. Things like that simply don’t happen. That’s how old Brandy, Usher, Adam Levine, Lance Bass, and John Legend are right now. At that age, Tina Turner was just beginning.

Turner, who died Wednesday at 83, carried the whole story of American music in her voice, because in so many ways, she was that story, but she was also a lot more. She was Anna Mae Bullock from Nutbush, Tennessee, daughter of sharecroppers, fighting her way in and out of the chitlin circuit. She was just a kid when she got famous, as half of Ike & Tina Turner. Her deep-country voice and his guitar always made a fearsome combo, in Fifties hits like “It’s Gonna Work Out Fine” and “I Idolize You.” “The emotions I expressed were real because I lived those feelings,” she wrote in Rolling Stone in a 2019 essay. “Even ‘Private Dancer’ — which seems to be about prostitution, but is also about wishes, hopes, and dreams — tells the story of women like me, caught up in sad situations, who somehow find a way to go on.”

Her defining hit was “What’s Love Got To Do With It,” a shocker from the summer of 1984. The song has gotten so familiar, it’s easy to overlook how it shocked the audience, on the radio in between Madonna, Prince and Cyndi Lauper. Unlike anyone else near her age, she had zero interest in passing for young. This woman had lived. She’d stared down more hard times than your miserable Smiths-loving teenage mind could imagine. The audience didn’t know what she’d been through — she wasn’t telling those stories yet. But even a kid could hear the rage and pain in her voice. A grandmother, and tougher than anyone.

She emerged in the Sixties as a one-woman genre — too rock for R&B, too R&B for rock, too brawny for girlie novelties, too raw-voiced for youthful romance. Her most famous hits with Ike were about how much hard road she’d already traveled, like “Proud Mary” and “Nutbush City Limits.” But her never-quite-youthful youth was just the opening act, because she truly became Tina Turner in 1984, with Private Dancer. It was a whole new kind of blockbuster, shimmying over generational, racial, cultural, musical boundaries. She was the first rock star who made a big deal about being a grandmother. Lots of stars had claimed to be the Queen of Rock & Roll, but after Private Dancer, nobody came near that crown.

She had a new audience of Eighties fans, but hardly any of them knew any of the music she’d made with her ex-husband. For them, Tina Turner was right now. Neither she nor they wanted to recall her past. “Rhythm and blues to me has always been a bit of a downer,” she said. She couldn’t stand it when the press used the word “victim.” She had rocking to do.

Tina told her life story many times — in interviews, her books (the keeper is the 2019 memoir My Love Story), the Broadway musical Tina, the classic biopic What’s Love Got To Do With It. (Your mom is probably watching it on Lifetime right now.) The story turns on her escape from and triumph over her abusive marriage. But people still underestimate the cultural importance of Turner telling that story. Strange as it might seem today, she was the first star to talk aloud about domestic violence, to insist on it as part of the story, not to gloss over it or act coy. Until she came along, the idiom “domestic violence” wasn’t even part of the language. “I admire her survival as a battered wife,” Gloria Steinem told Rolling Stone in December 1984. “For someone well-known to talk about it helps.” 

Hero worship for Tina Turner is practically an industry, yet we’re still underrating what she did and how much interior resources she had to call on to get it done, at a time when there was no precedent or protocol. She still doesn’t get enough credit for that, but it’s not the kind of credit she really wanted. Part of her greatness is refusing to be the professional survivor the media wanted her to be. She didn’t need another hero.

She epitomized the story of rock if anyone did. She sang her ferocious “Come Together” just three months after Abbey Road, breathing more sex and dread into it than even John Lennon could have imagined. Many years and several lives later, she was onstage with Paul McCartney in 1986, when he sang “Get Back” live for the first time since the rooftop. It’s a star-studded charity event with Elton John, Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, etc. Yes, obviously, Phil Collins is on drums. Tina sings the verse about Sweet Loretta, an American girl who leaves a home she can’t get back to. She’s the only Black artist here, almost the only American, definitely the only woman. She lived Loretta’s story before Paul even wrote the song. The jam keeps rolling, but after Tina, nobody goes near that microphone. She has just shut up the planet’s most un-shut-uppable men. She’s the grown-up on this stage. Every other rock star here is a child.

JANUARY, 1975: Ann-Margret Olsson, a TV variety special, from the golden days of TV variety specials. Ann-Margret introduces Tina as her best friend. They duet on “Nutbush City Limits,” Tina’s life story, and then “Honky Tonk Women,” the Rolling Stones’ ode to Memphis queens. (Ann-Margret screams the line “He blew my nose and then he blew my mind!”) Then they bump and grind to — what else?— “Proud Mary.”

What could be a more American duet? Ann-Margret, the Swedish song-and-dance girl, star of Kitten With A Whip, the Hollywood bombshell who shook her hips with Elvis in Viva Las Vegas. Tina Turner, the sharecropper’s daughter from Nutbush, Tennessee. They bonded when they were filming The Who’s rock-opera movie, Tommy. (In the movie, Tina plays the Gypsy Queen who symbolizes acid; A-M gets drowned in baked beans. Times were hard for rock & roll queens in 1975.)

But here they are singing about rollin’ on the Mississippi River steamboats. They’re laughing so hard as they dance, they’re practically falling over. Neither of them really belongs on a steamboat, and neither did the guy who wrote the song, a white suburban kid from El Cerrito named John Fogerty. He’s never set foot on the bayou, but he’s gotten drafted, served his time, and worked his way back into the bar-band scene with Creedence Clearwater Revival. This song is a fantasy, but all three of them traveled a long distance to get here, and the song is a generous river that carries them all. “You on a riverboat?” A-M asks. “There hasn’t been one of those around in 75 years!” Tina laughs, “I wear my eighties well!” 

Tina already had a hit with “Proud Mary” in the Sixties, but in 1975 she has no idea what this song will mean to her in years to come. She’ll turn “Proud Mary” into a feminist rock anthem, representing all the unspeakable (and unspoken) violence she escapes and her determination to claim her own story. But right now, she’s still trapped in her marriage to Ike. In less than a year, she will finally leave him, on the Fourth of July. She’s got nothing to her name but 36 cents, a gas-station credit card, and the blood-stained white suit on her back. Ann-Margret takes her in, hooking her up with designer Bob Mackie and a divorce lawyer.

But right now, it’s just Ann-Margret and Tina, singing on a TV soundstage in London. They can’t stop laughing hysterically. Two women sharing a weirdly private joke in a public place. The big wheel keeps on turnin’.

AFTER SHE ESCAPED Ike, Tina was written off by the whole music business. She was a Black woman in her forties. It was time for the oldies circuit. But she discovered that there was a rising Eighties generation of New Wave kids, especially in the U.K. And they idolized Tina Turner. She did a 1982 duet with Heaven 17’s Martyn Ware and Ian Craig Marsh, in their side project as B.E.F., the British Electric Foundation. She was shocked these kids didn’t see her as washed-up. They saw her as a vibrant, relevant legend in her prime. As she wrote in My Love Story, “Martyn, who was practically a boy, though a very talented one, happened to think that this middle-aged singer had a bright future.”

Tina sang “Ball of Confusion” with them, in one take. To her amazement, it took off on a brand new cable network the kids were into. MTV had a nationwide audience and a playlist full of unconventional Black rockers who didn’t fit into radio: Prince, Grace Jones, Joan Armatrading, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley. “Ball of Confusion” made her an MTV star, even though American radio wouldn’t touch her. She cut another single and video with Martyn Ware, a remake of Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together,” an even bigger hit.

That led to the night that changed her life, in NYC, January 1983. David Bowie was having dinner with his new record label, right before Let’s Dance came out, getting wined and dined, but he informed them he had plans for the night: He was going to see Tina Turner live. He wouldn’t dream of missing her. He dragged everyone along with him. Her manager Roger Davies got a last-minute call, asking for 63 spots on the guest list. “My Cinderella moment,” she called it in her book. “That night at the Ritz was the equivalent of going to the ball (minus the part about Prince Charming) because it changed my life dramatically.” 

After the show, she raised hell all night with Bowie, Keith Richards, and Ron Wood, sitting around the hotel piano, singing Motown classics, guzzling Dom Perignon. They posed for one of the coolest rock photos of all time: Tina, Keith and Bowie all drinking from the same bottle of Jack Daniels. She was a rock star now, forever. Her story was just beginning. 

It was funny for fans how she was so into old-school rock, but she spiced up her live set with ZZ Top’s “Legs” (she had them) and Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love” (she wasn’t). At Live Aid, dueting with Mick Jagger, the song they did was “It’s Only Rock & Roll But I Like It.”

But she was really ahead of her time. The concept of “classic rock” didn’t exist yet. (Not until the radio format began in 1986.) Rock culture was still so stuck on the mythos of youth and newness that her Seventies-retro concept was kinda ahead of her time. In a way, it’s an underrated Tina innovation: the Black grandma who invented dad rock.

ROLLING STONE BLEW up Private Dancer with one of the most influential reviews the magazine has ever run, from the brilliant critic Debby Miller. The review framed the Tina Turner comeback narrative, as the world has known it ever since. The final lines: “Last year, I heard Tina Turner sing that awful Terry Jacks song ‘Seasons in the Sun’ on television, and she found something in it that broke her heart. Imagine her doing the same thing to good songs.” 

She and Bowie always had one of the most endearing rock-star friendships — they always brought out the weird in each other. They duetted on his strange Pepsi commercial, starring David as Dr. Frankenstein and Tina as the rock goddess in his laboratory, both singing on “Modern Love.” They also duetted on a weirdly touching synth-reggae version of “Tonight” in 1984, about lovers separated by death, their voices meshing for the payoff lines “I will love you till I die/I will see you in the sky/Tonight.” She found her permanent home in Zurich, becoming a Swiss citizen. In so many ways, her closest career twin was Leonard Cohen, a fellow Nicheren Buddhist devotee. They were both born in the Thirties, but blew up in the Eighties as icons of middle-aged cool, after decades in the game. They showed everyone else how to age gracefully, flaunting the cracks in their voices, living their long weird lives in the tower of song.

When her life story became the Angela Bassett movie What’s Love Got To Do With It, she stole the show at the end with “Proud Mary.” But she couldn’t bring herself to watch it. As she wrote in Rolling Stone, “I never saw What’s Love Got to Do With It because I was too close to those painful memories at the time, and I was afraid it would be upsetting, like watching a documentary.” She resisted the idea of the 2019 Broadway musical Tina for the same reason, saying, “I didn’t feel like talking about that stuff from the past because it gave me bad dreams.” But she loved the musical when she saw it with an audience. She said, “I want to pass the baton, so to speak, to them, and anyone facing a challenge, so they leave the theater standing proud, with their chests out and chins up, inspired to believe, ‘I can do it.’” 

Really, she spent her whole life doing that. And that’s why Tina Turner’s voice will never go silent. In the end, she is the big wheel who keeps on turning, forever.

[whiskeyswriting]

Always The Second Choice Chapter 4: Madhouse

{ Masterlist } | { Previous Part }

Chapter 4: Madhouse 

The seconds turn into minutes.

Minutes into hours.

Hours into days.

Days into a week.

Time continues and Lily feels like her world has stopped since that day. She hasn’t slept. She had ignored her phone and door. The only person she could bear to see at the moment was Jimmy. And that was because she could never tell him no. Jimmy would bring her lunch and he would sit with her, even if neither said anything,

After their lunches, Lily continued to spend the next few days trying to fight sleep. Her body had grown tired and the bags under her eyes would just darken daily. She knew it wasn’t healthy to live like this, so she contacted Perry to allow her to work from her home office for a while. 

“Take the time you need. James told me a bit more detail about what you went through… So yeah, take the time you need and work from home.”

What she didn’t tell Perry was that seeing Clark would hurt too much. Not to mention that Lois just wanted to see her to interview her for a news article. 

After deciding to work from home, Lily started focusing on her emotional well-being. She started going to the gym her apartment building had and burning up all her pent-up anger and pain. 

The burn of the running, lunges, weights, and everything in between helped her focus. Though she loved her position at the Daily Planet, she knew if she were to return everyone would treat her differently. She spent a couple of days clearing out her work email and preparing layouts for a few more articles before emailing Perry her resignation letter.

That same day Jimmy again came over to have lunch with her. He is gentle when he unlocks the door and steps in with the bags of food. “Okay, pity party is over today. Today we’re commencing Day 1 of the New Future.”

Lily got up from the couch and ran to hug him tightly. Galahad, Lily’s black Scottish fold, was sleeping by the door stretches and meowed up at Jimmy when he heard him come in. Galahad rubs against Jimmy’s leg and meows at him for attention.

“Oh, babe!” Jimmy hugs her in return. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m real. I’ve got you.”

“I just can’t sleep, Jimmy… I… There are things I didn’t tell you about when I was under… It… There were other things I experienced.”

Jimmy’s brows furrow and he sits next to Lily. “Only talk about it if you want to and feel ready.”

“There were moments where it’s like I was locked up in an asylum… Like the one from Gotham… There would be endless hallways of me running and men in white coats, coats, getting so close, close. I would find an escape room only to end up back in that hallway saying my prayers, don't take me back there.”

Jimmy pulls her into a tight hug. “You’re here now. This is your reality. I won’t let anyone harm my best friend.”

Lily smiles. “You’re the best Jimmy Olsen. Too bad we both are too alike to be a real couple,” she teases. Lily removes her arms from Jimmy and helps him plate the food for them. “You got enough food to feed a small family.”

“That’s cuz I invented a couple more people.”

“James Bartholomew Olsen! Why would you do that? Who did you invite?” 

Jimmy gently pushes her to her room. “Go get dressed. Your boyfriend is coming.”

“Boyfriend!? What are you going on about Jimmy?”

“Luthor… He’s been calling the office every day for you. Nobody wants to talk to him so they all have me take the call.”

Lily groans. “I do have to return the suit to him.”

“Why don’t you wear your new sweatpants and vintage rock tee?”

Lily just rolls her eyes at Jimmy but goes to change. As she’s getting dressed, she hears Jimmy open the door and greet the other guests. Immediately, she recognizes Lex’s voice. However, Lily couldn’t fully identify the other two voices.

Once she’s done, she exits her room and heads to the kitchen. Before reaching the kitchen, she walks into Lex, who is exiting the guest bathroom. “Mr. Luthor.”

“What have I told you to call me?”

“Alexander.”

He shakes his head and smiles sadly down at her. “I’m sorry for what you went through. James explained it to me. How are you feeling?”

“You don’t have to apologize. You’re not the one that gave me the nightmare… I have that suit you let me borrow the other day.”

“You can keep it. It was a gift.”

Jimmy finds them in the hallway. “Chop chop. The food is getting cold. You lovebirds can catch up later.”

Lily can feel her cheeks flush deeply. “We’re not…”

“We’ll be right there,” Lex says simultaneously as Lily.

When they reach the dining room, Lily finally sees who the other two people are. One is a young female, about her age, and she immediately sits next to Lex. The other is one of Jimmy’s fellow photographer and crush, Amanda. 

During dinner, Lily can’t help but feel overwhelmed with too much conversation and stimulation, she sometimes lets her mind wander back to the dream life.

“Mercy… That’s not an appropriate question,” Lex's stern voice brings Lily back to the present. 

“I just wanted to know what was the reason for the fainting spell and sudden quitting of a lucrative job.”

Jimmy responds before Lily can. “I wonder why you’re so interested in what happened to Lils… It’s almost as if you had something to do with it and want to make sure she doesn’t know you had a hand in it.”

Lex looks over at Jimmy and then at Mercy. “Did you have anything to do with it?”

“You’re seriously going to believe people that you just met? I’ve been loyal to you and Luthor Corp since day 1.”

Before anyone else can say anything, there’s a knock at Lily’s door.

They all share a look before Lily stands and goes to open the door. To her surprise, Clark and Lois are standing there. “Hi cuz. We heard you were having a dinner party and wanted to join,” Lois says barging in.

Clark looks at Lily apologetically. 

Immediately, Jimmy and Lex are at Lily’s side, while she blocks Lois from entering further into the apartment. “I would suggest you leave my apartment now.”

“Well, it’s my father’s apart-”

“No. It’s mine. I own it. Now leave. You are not welcome here.”

“But we’re family. I came to make sure you’re fine.”

“More like you came to interview her,” Lex interjects, pointing at the notepad and not-so-discreet recorder.

Lois purses her lips and then smirks. “So you’re the one that she’s sleeping with now?”

Mercy and Lex immediately deny him sleeping with Lily. 

Lily sees red. “You know what Lois?” She lets out all her pent-up anger at her bully of a cousin and punches her. 

“WHAT THE HELL LILIAN??” Lois says clasping her nose.

“Lois. You and our family have never treated me as one of the family or as a friend. I’m the older one but everything I do is compared to you… Who copies me… Told everyone I'm a bitch, so I became it. Always had to put yourself above me.”

Lois is trying to swing back at Lily but Clark keeps holding her back.

“Leave my apartment now or I’ll hit you again. I was tryin' to be nice but nothing's getting through, so let me spell it out since you can’t spell or write to save your life: A-B-C-D-E, F-U and your mom and your sister and your job, and your broke-ass car and that shit you call art. Fuck you and your friends that I'll never see again. Everybody but your dog, you can all fuck off.” Her hands are shaking so much that she walks out to her apartment’s balcony to get fresh air. 

Jimmy makes quick work of opening the door and having Clark and Lois leave. “I will side with Lily on this. Leave and don’t come back either of you.” 

Lily is still calming down when Lex comes to join her on the balcony. “Lilian…”

“Just… Please. I want to be alone. I need to be alone.”

He nods but before leaving he places his jacket over her shoulders. “I know I have a history of being evil or untrustworthy, but know that I’ll always be there for you whenever you need me.”

Lily just nods and whispers a soft thank you. She waits until he leaves before she starts crying again. Jimmy rushes to her side and hugs her tightly. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

“I’m tired Jimmy. I’m done living in a madhouse of being someone’s second choice. The charity auction is my last day. You’re always more than welcome to come by anytime.” Lily returns the hug. “You truly are my favorite person, James.” 

Amanda clears her throat. “I called a cab for me.” 

“Amanda, before you leave, please tell me you’re free this Saturday to help me go dress shopping.” 

“Yes! I’ll even make it a mini photoshoot session.”

Jimmy just shakes his head. “The poor stores won’t know what hit them with you two causing trouble.”

After they finally say goodbye for the night, Lily gets to work on starting a website to start freelancing her graphic design services. Not long after, she falls asleep for the first time with a huge weight lifted off her chest.

--

Series 🏷️ List: @askmarinaandothers @dragon-kazansky @bayisdying @cycbaby

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: History and the Fantastic

I love fantasy and SF worlds, where weirdness abounds and there’s a new monster or alien around every labyrinth corner. But I favor grounding the fantastic in as much history, science, and biology as you can handle. It adds depth and backstory to your world, and there are plenty of readers out there hungry not just for entertainment, but for information. When they read a story, they want to learn something.

For me, learning the history of Northeast Asia started with Blockbuster and Samurai X.

Note, prior to that I’d seen some anime; Sailor Moon, Monster Rancher, a few others. But they were all dubs on TV, and I had no idea they were anything beyond “new cartoons”.

(The internet was not something I could get easy access to at the time. Or I’d have found out otherwise.)

Samurai X, though - that was something completely different. The animation was beautiful, the swordfights like nothing I had seen before, and the apparent historical details (samurai and people in late 19th century uniforms, really?) were intriguing enough that I wanted to see if they were anything close to real. And so started my poking into manga (Rurouni Kenshin first, others later) and early modern Japan.

(Blockbuster is also how I got to see Gundam Wing, Princess Mononoke, Howl’s Moving Castle, and Spirited Away. I miss that store.)

Finding out that the Bakumatsu was real, not an invention of the writer, and samurai had indeed been running around killing each other with swords (and guns) about the same time as the American Civl War was... well. World-shaking isn’t exactly accurate. But it certainly shook up my view of history.

I also admit to a deep sympathy with anyone who wants to tell the rest of the world, “get off my lawn and stop bothering me”. In the long term it doesn’t work, other humans being first-class botherers, especially if they think you might be weaker than they are. But the impulse is real, and relatable.

This led to a lot of digging. A lot, and probably pulling out every book in nearby libraries related to that place and time.

Eventually this led to the MDZS animation, and then various c-dramas and k-dramas. Unfortunately library books on Ming, Yuan, Qing, Goryeo and Joseon are... locally nonexistent. But between internet niche articles and JSTOR, I can keep digging and filling in the gaps as I get one book at a time. Because this part of the past is a foreign world, and makes everything you thought familiar take on a new light. With that you reconsider your own history, how place makes a difference, and how the past leaves ghosts of customs, foods, attitudes, and fears in its wake.

The past was different. But often it’s presented as “more of the same, people just didn’t know as much”... unless you look at the past in a foreign land, where historians are more willing to focus on “this is how it was, wasn’t it weird?”

But humans are humans. If you can see how weird that past over there was, you know your own must be equally weird. And then you can start finding the cracks and oddities that were glossed over in the history “everyone knows”.

Here’s a tame example. Cattle drives and cowboys, the quintessential image of the Old West. Except prior to the Civil War, cattle drives were a major thing in the Southeast, stock being driven to the railheads for points north. Meaning after the war a lot of Southern drovers headed west away from Reconstruction and picked up their old job in a new place. Sometimes bringing their old grudges and a fair amount of PTSD with them

(Yes, the Civil War had PTSD. They called it “heatstroke”. It was considered serious and sufficient explanation for rare lethal shooting sprees years or decades later.)

Knowing all this, you can see that while the character of Nathan Algren in The Last Samurai may not be a historical person, he is a very historically plausible character. And that makes the story so much better.

Steal from the best. Give your worlds reality. Your stories will last with the reader, long after they close the book.

[cielelyse]

A RANT, Because if I Can’t Segue These Thoughts Into Real-Life Conversations Then I am Damning My Tumblr to Them, Sorry 

So I’ve never really considered myself as part of the physics community. Books were my comfort growing up, so I entered university wanting to do an English Literature degree (imagine my Asian parents) — and because I didn’t take physics in high school, my first real introduction to it were two first-year college courses, Intro to Classical Mechanics and Electromagnetism, where both professors were so insane unhinged incredible that I spent that following summer hovering over the Switch Majors button on the school website for an entire week and NOW HERE WE ARE

Maaaaybe unfairly to the discipline though, I think I’ve always had one foot out the door with it. I worked through an undergrad and Master's and currently a PhD in physics, but it was never an ‘I’ve wanted to study this since I was a child’ decision and more of an ‘I don’t think I’m actually capable, but I’m interested in the field so let’s see where it takes me’ one, so I've always felt insecure about it. In the back of my mind, I was never meant for it. Physics has always been something I felt like I could give up on and still think, you know what, no worries, I’ve given it a good run, which wasn't something I could comfortably say if I had dedicated my life to literature. And it was honestly so FUN throughout the years! SO FUN!!! I met so many interesting and brilliant people! It was a completely new way to see the world — logically, critically, counter-intuitively — that I had to rewire my brain to adjust. But I never considered myself a “physicist”; I was just a passerby, not someone in the field. I wasn’t exceptionally intelligent, and I do think I have been extremely lucky to get this far, because in the back of my mind, my calling was still literature. 

AND THEN I WATCHED OPPENHEIMER. It sounds ridiculous for this realization to sink in in this situation wleg;kegelk but IT REALLY DID. I walked into the theatre not knowing anything about the hearing or Strauss, so that was a great plot twist for me, but I didn’t realize that I had come in already armed with the science knowledge. I got excited when the scientists appeared — Bohr, Heisenberg, Teller, Feynman, Bethe, etc. — and in particular LAWRENCE! Lawrence, who invented the cyclotron, who founded LLNL, whose machine has been studied extensively in my branch of physics and whose application is so closely related to what I’m studying, that seeing him on screen made me almost kick the seat in front of me in pure zest!! I huffed when I saw quantum tunnelling on the blackboard, I was amused when Oppenheimer immediately followed up “Is light a particle or a wave?” with a Schrodinger wave function symbol LOL, and I understood so well the joy of seeing your experiment work in front of you. So I enthusiastically rambled about it all to my friend afterwards — about how amusing seeing that was and how well I thought they avoided physics jargon — to which he groaned and said, “Right, I should’ve known this is what happens when I go see Oppenheimer with a physicist,” and even though that wasn’t the first time someone had told me I was a physicist, that was somewhat the first time it slotted in place for me. I never really considered myself part of the community, but 7 years went by and here I was! DOWN IN THE DEPTHS! DEEP IN THE TRENCHES! IT WAS SUCH A STRANGELY CONFLICTING FEELING THAT I HAD TO RANT ABOUT IT

(Anyhows, all this to say that Oppenheimer combined two of my favourite ares of study: physics and geopolitics. It was amazing. WOULD 11/10 RECOMMEND — I love it so so so much!! The only subjective grievance I had was that I wish there were more women in it, but this is 100% a grievance with history rather than a grievance with the film, because I do of course understand that it was a heavily white-male-dominated field at the time and so it would kinda be impossible for Nolan to incorporate that into the narrative, especially Oppenheimer’s narrative. Shucks! But I hold hope that one day someone will make biopics for great women like Lise Meitner!!!)

[delphi-ni]

Lupi Filii- Introduction

I would like to present myself first, if you don’t mind. I am an Italian young girl who recently discovered an interesting story. I really enjoy it and I’m currently following every updates regarding it. I’m not a huge fan, I don’t follow any fandom but I’ve certainly been enchanted by its plot. It is for me one of the most efficient ways of talking about literature raising the attention of an audience, mostly made by young people, that most probably thinks that the literature we study at school is very boring. The action, the well written characters and the beautiful and well placed references about all world’s literature are the strongest components of this comic, novel and then animated series. At least this are the thoughts of a girl who always enjoyed reading.

I don’t usually read or watch series of this genre, but a friend of mine suggested it because they considered it good and I gave it a try. I had no idea what it talked about and it was difficult for me to understand it at first because I’ve never read about Japanese literature before. When I found out the characters were based on actual, real life book and poetry authors I fell in love. I soon found out it didn’t just talk about Japanese literature but also there were characters based on authors from all the world, and it was  beautiful for me to see all this people that literally wrote my childhood together in a new story. As I said before I really enjoy reading, so it was a world I already knew and I could’ve enjoy it a lot better than if I didn’t know any of this authors.

One of the thoughts I had was that these people, I’m talking about the actual authors, were people that probably made an huge impact on their national and world culture. To better understand what I mean I’d say that I’ve always enjoyed studying literature at school, not only the poems or manuscripts, but also authors’ lives, writing characteristics and their impact on nowadays culture. In my presentation I said I’m Italian, so of course I’ve mostly studied Italian culture, but my school program also had me study English and Latin literature. Thinking about the beautiful story made around authors that made the Japanese literature and culture, I thought about a story centred on authors that made the story of my nation. So I wrote it.

My story takes great inspiration on the original story, but has its own course of events and it talks about Italian culture and literature. All with Italian, or foreign, authors that made this culture. This story isn’t just action between supernatural humans inspired by real life writers that use their own most important work of art as a special ability. It is a voyage. In my manuscript I’ve wrote about all Italy, I love my country and I wanted to talk about every aspects of its culture, paralleling the original story, which I’ll never forget for the emotional impact it had in me.

I’d like to share this story with you. I want to show you the beautiful Italy, all of it, and I hope you’ll enjoy it.

(I want to specify that the original story is written in Italian and then translated in English, so the publishing of the English version will be following the Italian one, two working days later, except for the first chapters.)

IMPORTANT MESSAGE: I have made up my own plot for the story, but the idea is NOT MINE. The story is mostly paralleled to the original. I DO NOT OWN any characters’ name NOR any ability’s name, for which they are actual titles with their own legitimate owners. Mostly every character in this story was once a REAL person and some are alive nowadays, so I would ask everyone reading this to NOT USE these names in offensive manners, NOR leave any comment that could harm or offend these people. Everything in the story is INVENTED and did not happen in reality. The characters ARE NOT the authors I’ve took as inspiration so the character’s actions or words MUST NOT be associated with the real person. All rightful credits go to the original authors of this story (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kafka Asagiri and Sango Harukawa. I also want to specify that English is (obviously) not my first language; I apologize in advance for any mistake I might have made, I ask you to be patient and not leave any offensive comment for I’m still learning. Thanks for understanding.

Delphini, Italy, 10/19/2023.