#I magically gain direction competence when alone with her and her alone

[fantome-sans-opera]

It just occured to me that I am absolutely not someone blessed with a sense of direction.

You would rhink I would realize that when I got lost in my small towns center point, after living there for over 6 years.

Or the fact that my poor roommate has to tell me I'm heading in the wrong direction at least four times a week would clue me in.

But my mom is just abysmally worse

This wasn't what I expected when they tols me I would learn who I was in my early 20's

[chaiscentedcandle]

Triwizard Tournament (part 1/2)

𝐏𝐚���𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: George Weasley x fem!reader (reader is implied Gryffindor house)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the reader, along with Harry, gets picked for the Triwizard Tournament and has to save George during the second task!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: yes/no

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none, I think maybe curse words?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3,839

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so, I started from the “beginning” and it’s getting long so I decided to make this into two parts!

The train cart rattled as it rode along the tracks, the twins including Lee chattering about something. The newspaper Y/n was reading would sometimes make noise occasionally when the cart shook, she was reading about the attack at the Quidditch World Cup, she had been their with the Weasley family, same with Harry and Hermione. It was a blur but what she distinctly remembers is running the wrong direction and coming face to face with a group of people wearing all black, their faces covered by gold skeleton masks and their hats were very pointy.

They had no business with her so they let her take off in the other direction, luckily she ran into the back of Fred. Turning around the Twins faces folded with relief as they didn’t have to worry about you and Ginny.

From the distance you could hear the trolley lady, her voice stretching far. Her slightly squeaky wheels bouncing off the walls, soon enough she was stood in front of their cart “anything from the trolley, dears?” She asked like always. Giving a quick glance up, Y/n reached into her pocket and pulled out a little pouch filled with galleons and some sickles, tossing it to Lee and hitting him square in the chest “get yourself’s something, I’m not hungry” she stated, George asked a weary “are you sure?” Before they crowded the opening. Enough money in the pouch to buy them each a thing or two.

“Are you done reading the bloody paper? It’s almost like you’ve been giving it bedroom eyes since you first saw it!” George said, a piece of sweets falling from his mouth to his trousers before he picked it up and but it back in his mouth. Sparing another short glance, Y/n responded “don’t talk with your mouth full, and no I have not, I’ve just decided to read the news for once” a bit of sass laced in her words.

“I agree with George, you haven’t taken your eyes off it, there’s not much in the paper about it” Lee added, and if Lee added Fred wanted to add too “yeah, I mean why read about it when you lived it?” He had a point, doesn’t mean it was a good one.

Y/n just rolled her eyes, Fred wasn’t done talking yet, as always “I mean think about it, it’s probably one measly paragraph or two, it’s a brief topic, why read that when you were in front of a actual death eater!” He said rather loudly with too much enthusiasm.

“You try seeing a death eater Fred, I’m pretty sure you’d wet yourself, plus it wasn’t a long encounter and I didn’t want it to be” George and Lee let out a few chuckles when Y/n said Fred would wet himself. They don’t know if it’d be true, but it was funny.

Lee whistled, catching George’s attention and tossed Y/n’s pouch to George who caught it mid air, beater skills. George placed it in her lap “there’s a few galleons left, Lee wasn’t too hungry either” finally Y/n fully took her eyes off her newspaper, setting it besides her, grabbing her little pouch she picked up her bag and stuffed it in, as she was distracted George took his opportunity to snatch the newspaper from her side.

Upon hearing the crumble of paper and seeing her newspaper gone, Y/n reached to take it from George, who only held it high “come on, George, give it back” Y/n told him, instead he stood up and held it above his head, Y/n followed ahead and tried to reach for her paper, alas she was too short. “George, give it back” she said sternly, he shook his head “no, you keep reading the damn paper over and over again, you’ve probably memorized every word by now, what good is coming out of it?” He asked, Y/n just glared up at him while George smiled a goofy smile at her. Planting her feet and putting her hands on her hips, Y/n was ready to tackle George, true it was just a piece of paper and it was a brief topic but she bought it with her own money “what do I have to do for you to give me back my bloody paper” jokingly George tapped his cheek with his free hand and bent his knees a little.

Y/n stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, George was stunned as he thought she would’ve given up, but when he froze Y/n took her chance and snatched the paper out of George’s hand, folding it up.

Everybody had gathered in the courtyard to see the foreign visitors. Y/n being squashed between the twins tall figures.

Hagrid stood down below with two giant paddles in his hands to direct the pegasus pulling a carriage in the air, it seemed to be going well until Hagrid turned his back and turned back around at the perfect second to doge the carriage. Some people let out gasps while others laughed or said “woooah”

“Well! There’s something you don’t see everyday!” Fred said, George responded with a laugh. Then Y/n spotted just the crows nest of a ship sticking out, pointing and leaning her body out a little she said “look! That’s the crows nest of a ship” George grabbed her hips “woah there! We don’t need you falling out” a hot flash of blush spread across her cheeks, as if on cue the tip of a ship shot out and fell forwards to reveal a whole ship. Another course of “woah” was let out, McGonagall walked out to the courtyard and called to the students “please go to your houses and get dressed in your robes, meet back in the great hall, we have an announcement to make!” With that she turned away and made her way back inside.

It wasn’t long before students began to fill the great hall, a few stragglers here and there. Y/n sat In front of George and Fred, next to Angelina, Neville sat across Y/n. They gave each other warm smiles.

Everyone watched the first years being sorted, Gryffindor gaining a few.

Dumbledore made his way to the stand, quieting the Great Hall. “Well now we’re all settled in and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement” just after saying this the Great Hall door opened and in running came Mr.Filch, Dumbledore continued “this castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well” Most of the students had their eyes on Mr.Filch as his heavy breathing echoed even though it wasn’t quiet. “You see, Hogwarts had been chosen-” Mr.Filch finally made it to the front, interrupting Dumbledore, they whispered about something before Mr.Filch took off running again, Dumbledore resumed “so, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a LEGENDARY event” he paused “The Triwizard Tournament!” People whispered among themselves for a bit, the twins whispering “brilliant” between themselves.

“Now for those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests, from each school a single student is selected to compete, now let me be clear” his tone turned to serious “if chosen, you stand alone and trust me when I say these contests aren’t for the faint hearted” then his tone changed back to happy “but more of that later, but now please join me in welcoming, the lovely lady’s of the Beuxbations Academy of Magic!” Just before he was about to finish the doors swing open “and their headmistress, Madam Maxine!” Beautiful, fancy women decked in blue walk into the Great Hall, their hands behind their backs, all proper. They walked before they stopped a let out a sigh, leaning to the right and putting out their hand, they walked again and repeated the same thing before speeding up to the front, most of the boys staring at their bums.

Y/n looked up at George to see him staring as well, she smacks him on the arm and give hims a look, he turns to her with a look of confusion “what?” He asked before turning back around.

Everyone was watching as Madam Maxine made her way through, down the table a bit you could hear Seamus Finnagin say “blimey! That’s one biiig women!” A little girl was in a different outfit and doing flips, along side her another, older, girl who looks similar to her. They get to the front and bow, most boys (and some girls) clap, stand, cheer or all three for the lady’s. George and Fred being one of those boys, Y/n and Angelina give each other a look, Y/n let’s out a “hmpf” and lean her head on her hand, a pout upon her face, George noticed and asked “what’s wrong?” Getting no response she just turns her head away from him, leaning over to look at Angelina, she just gives him a straight smile and raises her eyebrows before also turning away.

Dumbledore put his hands up to silence everyone. “And now our friends from the North! Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang! And their high master Igor Karkaroff!” Y/n faces twisted a little, Angelia nudged her “what is it?” She whispered “Igor Karkaroff served you-know-who in the Wizarding War” she whispered back, Angelinas face began to twist as well. Just then a loud bang came from the front, well fit men walked with staffs, banging them on the ground and chanting, sparks coming from the bottom. They spun and twisted the staffs before some of them abandoned them and made a sprint for the front, some lady’s letting out a gasp and standing to get a better look. Y/n and Angelina begin apart of that, Y/n caught a look at George and it seemed he wasn’t enjoying it too much.

Soon legendary Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum and Igor Karkaroff entered, people began to whisper “look!” “It’s krum!” Y/n turned to Angelina, a small smile on her face “I have to admit he’s quite cute!” Angelina let out a laugh, George elbowed her. She turned to George with the same look he gave her “what?!” She gave a little more sass, Neville let out a giggle. She went back to looking at Krum till he caught her eye, giving a wink then looking straight ahead. Heat coated her cheeks, Y/n gushed to Angelina “did you see that?” Angelina and Y/n freaked out amongst themselves for a little.

George rolled his eyes “personally I don’t think Viktor is all that great” he said to Fred who only laughed at his brother.

Everyone began to talk, chatter filling up the Great Hall or eyeing some of the food in front of them, some people paying attention to people brining in a big gold structure. Dumbledore stood next to it “your attention please!” The crowd went silent “I’d like to say a few words” he placed his hand on the gold structure “eternal glory! That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament, but to do this that student must survive three tasks, three EXTREMLY dangerous tasks” Y/n could feel her heart begin to race but she didn’t know why, George looked excited while Fred looked smug “wicked” they both said. “For this reason the ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule, to explain all this we have the head of the department of international magical corporation, Mr. Bartimus Crouch” the ceiling begin to rain and a lighting storm, a pretty bad one at that.

Some students began to scream before a red bolt in the corner up at the teachers table was sent out and it was back to normal. A wet, crazy looking man was putting his wand away. “It’s him” Ron said “Mad-Eye Moody” his voice low “Alastor Moody” Y/n said “the auror?” Hermione asked “auror?” Dean Thomas questioned “EX-auror, dark wizard catcher” Y/n said “filled up half of the cells in Azkaban thanks to him” Ron finished “he’s suppose to be mad as a hatter these days”.

The students watched the exchange between Mad-Eye Moody and Dumbledore. The minister Bartimus Crouch began speaking, his arms out and playing with his fingers as he spoke “after due consideration, The Ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen should be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament” Mr. Crouch began to raise his voice as students started to get rowdy and yell “this decision is final!” Students started to get louder and louder, making Mr. Crouch having to speak louder. George and Fred got angry, screaming “that’s rubbish” and booing.

“You don’t know what your doing!!” George yelled, Y/n slapped his arm again “George! Be civil!” She told him, he ignored her.

Students still screamed and protested until Dumbledore screamed “SILEEEENCE!” There was still some murmuring before everyone stopped talking. Dumbledore raised his wand and lowered it, as he did the gold stand began to disappear and a big golden cup appeared, a small blue flame appeared above it which turned to a bigger blue flame. “The Goblet of Fire” Dumbledores voice rang throughout “anyone wishes to submit themselves to the tournament nearly write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night” he paused “do not do so lightly! If chosen, there’s no turning back, as from this moment the Triwizard Tournament has begun” Dumbledore finished.

Y/n could hear the roaring of the fire, it was loud in her ears, her heart beat faster then a pixies wings when it’s was flying. All throughout dinner her hands where shaking, Neville was the first to notice.

“You alright, Y/n?” She casted her eyes up to him, shaking her head “no” and that was the last thing she said for the rest of dinner.

For Y/n it was a short time before it was Wednesday, the day before the picking of the champions, a couple of people including her sat in the room with the Goblet, a blue hue throughout the room. She stared at the cup, as if it would tell her all its secrets, a anxious feeling sitting in her stomach. Hermione sat below Y/n, she was calling her name but Y/n didn’t notice until Hermione was shaking her knee “you alright? You’ve been staring at the cup for a couple of minutes” Y/n blinked a few times before she shrugged her shoulders “I’m scared, I feel like something terrible is going to happen, but it’s hard to explain” just then George and Fred came running in, yelling and laughing, a vial in each of their hands.

“Well lads! We’ve done it!” George said to the few people in front of them “cooked it up just this morning!” Fred added, Hermione turned away from them “it’s not going to work” she sang, George and Fred gave each other a look before each twin was on either side of her.

“Oh yeah?” Said Fred “And why is that Granger?” George asked. Hermione huffed “you see this?” She said sassily and motioned to the blue line around the cup “this is a aging line, Dumbledore drew it himself” she told them “so?” Fred responded, Hermione scoffed “SO, a genius like Dumbledore couldn’t possibly be fooled by a dodge as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion!”

“Oh but that’s why it’s so brilliant” told Fred

“Because it’s so pathetically dim witted!” Finished George.

“Ready, Fred?”

“Ready, George!”

They locked arms and said “bottoms up!” Both downing the potion before jumping inside the line, nothing happened. Some students cheered and the twins let out a victorious “yeah!” With a little pep in their step they placed their names in the goblet, letting out a another “yeah!” And high-fiving, unfortunately for them the cup went crazy and flung them out of the ring, landing hard in the ground.

Y/n let out a gasp as she stood up, as the twins sat up they both sported long grey hairs and breads to match “you said!” Said Fred “you said!” George repeated, then they began to brawl, rolling and tackling on the ground, everyone cheering.

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” It started to die out.

Viktor Krum and Karkaroff entered the room, all eyes on them. Viktor entered the ring and placed a piece of parchment in, undoubtedly his name, as he was leaving he eyed Y/n and Hermione. This wasn’t unnoticed by George, who was still an old man, and his noticeable anger didn’t go unnoticed by his brother.

Thursday. Finally the name drawing of the three champions. Y/n hands wouldn’t stop shaking, her and Neville made their way to the Great Hall “are you okay, Y/n? You’re shaking like you’re freezing cold” he asked, she shook her head “I don’t know why, but I’m so scared, I’m getting terrible anxiety” she told him, he rubbed her back and pulled her to his side “you’ll be alright, you’re underage, you can’t get picked” she nodded her head, he was right, of course he was right, she’s only sixteen, shes too young. Neville held her hand to reduce her shaking, it helping somewhat.

Everyone stood in anticipation, eager to see who’d been picked. Y/n never took her eyes off the goblet, not until George nudged her “you okay?” He asked, she shook her head again “no, why does everyone keep asking me that? Don’t I visibly not look okay?” She said a little annoyed, George raised his hands in defense. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his side, just like Neville.

Soon the staff and Dumbledore entered. “Sit down! Please” he said. Hurriedly everyone took their seats, Y/n sitting next to George with Fred next to her. “Now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” He paused to build tension “the champion selection!” Quickly Dumbledore turned around, his arm raised as he dimed the fire around the room.

Y/n heart started to beat faster, she wrapped her arm around George’s and curled into him, turning to her he gave her a kiss on the top of her head to calm her. Dumbledore made his way over to the goblet, same hand raised. Once he reached the goblet he set both hands on it for a few seconds then took it off and backed away, the flame turned bright red and he shield his eyes from the brightness, a piece of parchment flew out from the cup, catching it Dumbledore turned it over and read the name. “The Durmstrang champion is....Viktor Krum!” Cheers rang throughout Durmstrang and Viktor mumbled a happy “yes!” fist bumping the air, getting pats on the shoulder he stood up, shaking hands with Dumbledore and moving to the front.

Next was Beauxbatons, Dumbledore turned the fancy blue paper over “the champion for Beauxbations is..Fleur Delacour!” The Beauxbations women cheered and clapped for her, not as loud as Durmstrang, Ron eyed Fleur. Gross.

Next was Hogwarts. “The Hogwarts champion” Dumbledore turned the parchment over “Cedric Diggory!” Hogwarts cheered for Cedric, his friends cheered louder. Y/n let out a sign of relief, maybe she was just overthinking, Neville placed his hand in her shoulder “see! I told you you’d be alright” she gave him a smile to which he returned.

“EXCELLENT!” Dumbledores voice reached throughout the whole room “we now have our three champions!” Y/n could feel the pit in her stomach grow small, but it was still there “but only one will go down in history” Dumbledore continued “only one! Will hoist this Chalice of Champions!” Bartimus Crouch brought in something big, covered in a piece of fabric, he placed it on a stand “this vessel of victory! The Triwizard Cup!” Dumbledore turned around and pointed at the cup, the piece of fabric flew off and relieved a big blue glowing cup. Students began to clap and cheer for the cup.

Snape started to eye the goblet weirdly, the students near the entrance saw the goblet begin to go crazy like when George and Fred tried to put their names in. Dumbledore turned around quickly, the clapping stopped and he made his way to the goblet, it began to grow red like before when the names flew out. The red fire shot up and another piece of parchment flew out, grabbing it Dumbledore turned it quickly to find a name. “Harry Potter...” he mumbled, looking up hastily around the room he repeated once more “Harry Potter?” Students started to look around the room for Harry, Harry sat back down, not wanting to go up or be seen. Hagrid was shaking his head and mumbling “no...no”. Dumbledore grew angry “HARRY POTTER!” He yelled. Y/n could feel the pit in her stomach begin to grow again. Hermione grabbed Harry’s shoulder “come on, Harry” he didn’t move, she grabbed his shoulder and tried to move him “Harry for goodness sake” she said. Harry stood, Hermione shoved him lightly a few times, Ron had a very sour look on his face, Harry made his way to Dumbledore, who didn’t look so please and only shoved the parchment with his name to him, hesitantly taking it Harry made is way to the front, students protested. They were getting angry “he’s a cheat!” Someone shouted “he’s not even seventeen yet!” Someone else said.

Neville tapped Y/n on the shoulder “do you think that’s what you could’ve been feeling?” She shrugged “I don’t know, maybe” she looked back up at the front, only for the goblet start to go wild again, Dumbledore covered his eyes but that couldn’t stop his face from getting more angry. Just like Harry, another parchment flew out, angry enough, Dumbledore snatched it from the air, turning it over to read the other name “Y/n L/n?” He called quite loud. Y/n stomach sank, this is what she had been feeling. Just like Harry, she froze, somehow Dumbledore had found where she was sitting and his face showed he didn’t want to go through with this again. “Y/n come on, don’t make him wait” Neville whispered to her, with wobbly knees she slowly stood up, her hands violently shaking. George stood up too, blocking her from moving “George, what are you doing?” She asked, he just stared down at her, Y/n pulled him in for a hug, something they both needed in the moment. They pulled away and she made her way to Dumbledore, who also pushed the parchment her way but with a little more force, he was more than just angry. Students started to get angry again, two students had been chosen for the tournament who were underage, it was a champion for THREE people but somehow there’s five champions, it was an outrage.

Y/n followed where Harry went, he was technically the only other champion she knew. Following him, he leaned in, nervous as well “doesn’t feel great, does it?” He said, she wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt “no, no it doesn’t”.

Tags!: @the-romanian-is-bae @deadpoolgirl23

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

In a way the whole "Izuku is the Dragonborn" fic would need to leave most of the backstory of Izuku the 4-14 years old dragon slayer on luck or Inko doing all the work while Izuku is, like, put in a position of safety (he still needs to eat dragon souls tho, same for Miraaks... How would that work even?) So I might need to move things around a bit.

Basically here's the backstory on all major shit:

Helgen: Inko and Izuku run away with Hadvar. They are not scheduled for execution because, you know, Hadvar might not go out of his way for a stranger but there is a small kid involved, younger than his cousin dammit, way younger than your usual Stormcloak Child Soldier Conscript from Dawnstar (an actual canon thing believe it or not) so he puts his foot down. In the keep Hadvar does most of the work obviously, even if Inko does, in her desperation, cut down people getting dangerously close to Izuku. She is a better lockpick than she expected, especially with her Quirk, and Izuku in his curiosity ends up pawing off the book and a strange, mysterious ring inside the Mage's cell. They then go to Riverwood with Hadvar, where they are directed to both Farengar and the College for matters regarding magical space travel, so to speak.

Riverwood: However, they are pennyless and alone in a foreign world, so Inko tries first to make money by working at the local lumber mill as she sends a courier to Whiterun for the Dragon Thing. Assume we are playing with my modded version of the game, which means Riverwood is currently the home of one Triss Merigold from the Witcher. She is also spacially displaced as of late, and is searching for Yennefer, Ciri and Geralt, with whom she jumped into this reality before getting lost from them. Dorthe and Frodnar will direct the small Izuku to her, since Dorthe is the one "babysitting" Izuku while his mother works so he's playing with the slightly older kids. Basically, they know she is a mage of some sort since she showed them some sort of light show, and Inko still needs to make money if she wants to leave with the proper equipment so they can't even go to Farengarym yet.

This allows us to 1) Set up the Triss Merigold X Midoriya Inko endgame and NO I AM NOR FUCKING STUTTERING and 2) Give Inko a competent bodyguard of sorts before she actually does get used to the unforgiving land of Skyrim and starts giving people heart attacks with her Quirk.

Of the Major Guilds:

Companions: Inko Joins as a way to make money for Izuku. With the mercenary work she manages to buy the house in Whiterun, so now Izuku can be left in a safe location, with "Aunt" Lydia as his babysitter. Whiterun Shenanigans ensue with Izuku befriending Lucia and Lars. Also Braith but, like, after lots of character development. Lucia is obviously the first to be adopted.

Inko is the one who becomes a werewolf and the Harbinger in the end, Izuku is not involved in this Storyline outside of some encounters with "Aunt" Aela and "Uncles" Vilkas and Farkas. Inko renounces her condition in the end.

College of Winterhold: They move to winterhold together since Farengar can't help them. Izuku is actually a quick study, as exemplified to that one spell book he found in helgen that thought him within seconds how to shoot lightning from his hands, much to his mother's worry. He ends up killing a bandit in self defense that way when he's barely 5. It was either do that or let them get to his mom.

Anyway, Inko is enrolled, but so is Izuku, the two now living on College Grounds. Triss is also there as an honorary lecturer. Anyway, Whe most of the adventuring is still done by Inko, is Izuku who receives the visit of the Psijic Order and, ultimately, he is the one to kill Ancano and close the eye of Magnus. Inko becomes Archmage still, even if she tries her hardest to have Toldfir step up instead.

The way Izuku kills Ancano is actually more based on guile than actual magical prowess. He is the only one not paralyzed in the boss fight, so what he does, is grab one of J'Zargo experimental Scrolls, summon a Skeleton Minion (Oblivion spell he was recently taught so to have someone protecting him in times of crisis), and then run with it against Ancano, too busy as he is being a megalomaniac, suicide bombing himself. He survives, but only thanks to the Restoration Professor quick intervention as Ancano dies and the paralysis falters.

Restoration magic did save the day in the end.

J'Zargo, who is usually aloof and snarky over his experiments, is actually horrified his rival's son almost got killed because of him, so he pledges he will do everything in his power to find a way to help them with their issue. He is a great magician after all, and his class is one of the brightest to date, they can find a way out for them.

Dragon War: Since all they can do now is wait for the College, Inko returns to Whiterun with Izuku and Triss, but on the way the watchtower is attacked, Mirmulmir is slain, and Izuku absorbs his dragon soul. This jumpstarts the events of Skyrim, with Izuku and Inko having to go on a pilgrimage to High Hrothgar to better understand what is happening to her son, who is now terrified of talking least he blew his mother apart with his voice.

A 5 years old kid makes a poor warrior, so the Greybeard offer to train him for his destiny, but Inko refuses. They don't need her son to kill dragons, just to eat their souls, so what she can do, is do the actual dragon slaying, and then have Izuku eat the souls. This still forces her to bring Izuku on her adventures, which isn't ideal, but only the dragon related ones. Izuku still learns the shouts of unrelenting force and whirlwind sprint as well as Dragonrend, but is Inko the one wielding the blade.

As a side note, Paarthurnax, for once not having to deal with a 4th era Nord, can finally give the unadulterated lore of the order rather than the imperialized, akatosh centric one, which leads Izuku to grow interested in Kyne, Warrior-Widow of Shor, for how much she reminds him of his mom.

Anyway, Inko is the one doing most of the stuff, Paarthurnax isn't killed, and Izuku gets two dragon buddies, one a wise and aging mentor war criminal, the other a brash and snarky red dragon he can call with his voice.

Izuku and Inko go both to Sovengarde. Inko meets back Kodlak, but also Ysgramor, who she now recognizes as a war criminal bastard, and she is the one dealing the killing blow on Alduin. Inko, Breath of Kyne, is the one sand in the songs now, the mother of the dragonborn who delivered them from evil.

Thieves Guild: Inko also does it all, but is the start of Izuku's involvement with Daedras. Inko takes the pledge to Nocturnal, so her soul is now bound to her realm, but is her son that catches the Prince's eye. Inko also tries to reform the guild back to its old robin hood ways, with divergent results.

Explorer Guild: This is the Legacy of the Dragonborn Mod. Inko founds the explorers guild and moves to the now bigger home in the Museum in Solitude. Proudspire manor has been bought by Yennefer, now advisor to Queen Elisif, who thanks to her influence has grown more confident. Girlboss helping Girlboss prosper and all that. She lives there with husband and daughter, and there's a reunion with Triss. Usual angst about "is she going to leave me? Are our adventures over?" But Triss stays because she cares about Inko and shit.

Anyway, inko is the one doing most of the stuff here too, but she now has a big enough home to adopt more than just Lucia.

She adopts every orphan, as well as Sissel and Britte in Rorikstead after murdering their abusive father. She then kills Grelod in Riften, so to also be able to adopt the orphans at the orphanage. To do so, she catches the attention of the Dark Brotherhood since she just stolen their contact. She of course adopts Aventus Aretino too.

Dark Brotherhood: All Inko. Unlike thieves guild, Izuku isn't even aware she's doing this, since he's back in Solitude with his new siblings.

Princes:

Izuku does Sheogorath. He's playing in the streets with his siblings and the other Solitude kids, when he finds Sheogorath abandoned follower. So he sneaks in the blue palace, gets to the forbidden wing, and meets Sheogorath, the Hero of Kvatch. Does his quest since it's a pretty easy quest even for a 5 years old kid, and then gets the Wabbajack in exchange.

Inko does Sanguine. The sham marriage is actually to Triss this time, which leads to more angst obviously.

Inko also does Vaermina (destroying the staff), Dagon (Destroying the Razor), Hircine (Gets the Ring), Malacath, Namira (Saves the priest and kills the cannibals), Molag Bal (Just... Never completes his quest and leaves the bastard hanging), Boethia (sacrifices one of the two racist dudes in Windhelm after trucking him into following her), Azura (Uncorrupted Star) and Peryte.

Izuku finds Meridia's Beacon but it's Inko who does the quest.

Izuku is the one meeting Barbas and they have "A boy and his dog" adventures together before he manages to bring him back to Clavicus Vile and convince him to take him back without needing to do his quest. He gets the Mask as a Result, but also a dog in the form of Styx, the spectral wolf, another mod.

Izuku does Mephala, pretty early on too. He befriends Baalgruf's bastard son while still living in Whiterun, who tells him about the whispering door, and after a couple of deceptions he gets the blade. He never charges it tho.

While is Inko the one getting the Ogma Infinium, she can't open it, and is Izuku the one opening it and gaining the boost in knowledge, as well as becoming Herma Mora champion.

Dawnguard and Dragonborn are also done by Inko, but is Midoriya who is sent to Apocrypha when she opens a black book. There he has a odd "Older Sibling trying to murder Younger Sibling" relationship with Miraak, and is ultimately forced to see him get killed by Herma Mora. Aunt Serana becomes a permanent fixture in the house.

Bard College is done by Inko but Izuku is also part of the college now.

Most quests are done by Inko, but the misc quests that require either speech or guile are done by Izuku, especially if they involve children. This includes stuff like paying for Erik the Slayer armor in Rorikstead, or cheering up that girl in Solitude whose uncle was executed for aiding in regicide.

Speaking of which:

Civil War: Inko does it obviously, and she sides with the empire, because 1) Hadvar, 2) Baalgruf, and 3) Elisif.

And also because she went to Windhelm one time to stop a serial killer and gods she couldn't believe how racist those fuckers were.

Modded followers are obviously Inigo, Lucien and Shirley Curry, to name a few.

Forgotten City is done by Inko, Izuku is not even in the time loop. Project AHO is done by Inko and ends with her freeing the slaves and murdering every single slaver in the settlement. Most modded quest mods are done by her honestly.

Izuku obviously keeps himself up to date with his magical studies, which means around 8-10 years old he moves back to winterhold, still waiting for a way home, so J'Zargo can study him to reverse engineer his quirk, and he can learn more spells. Most of his siblings are almost of age by now too, and his mother has started calming down in her worry, since she trusts her old coursemates and teacher to keek Izuku safe...

Ok, no, she trusts Onmund and Toldfir to keep Izuku safe, in this order, but it's still more people she would trust if he started living with any of her other guilds.

Anyway, can't think of much else.

[nerdythebard]

#6: Anhur, Slayer of Enemies

Gods and Goddesses!

This time, we journey to the land of Egypt. The realm of scorching deserts, mysterious magic, and ancient kings. And on this journey, we're protected by Anhur. Sometimes also known as Onuris or Han-her, this son of Ra is the personification of elite royal warriors. Master of tactics and spear, Anhur is a cunning and deadly foe to anyone foolish enough to disturb peace in Egypt.

Next Time: WHO LET THE DOG OUT!? (from his coffin)

Okay, with the mandatory reference done, we now get to think about what we need from Anhur:

Spears for Days: Anhur's spear is able to pin enemies to walls and structure, and his Ultimate hurls a volley of spears all around. We need to be of almost equal spear mastery to Achilles... except we use ours to hunt.

Sand Manipulation: Anhur can create obelisks with swirling sand vortexes, which slow any enemies that come in contact with it.

Not-so-Cowardly Lion: Seems obvious, we're a lion god (yes, I know Ancient Egyptians didn't believe their gods have animal heads, shush) and we're one of the best hunters and warriors of the Egyptian pantheon.

---

Starting with Anhur's race, we're lucky Wizards of the Coast provided us this time with a clear and canon solution. Anhur is a Leonin, this lion-folk race gets +2 Constitution and +1 Strength, 60 feet of Darkvision, and slightly faster than average walking speed of 35 feet. We know Common and Leonin languages, and we are equipped with natural weapons – our Claws, which let us make an unarmed strike that deals [1d4 + our Constitution modifier] slashing damage. We also have Daunting Roar, which lets us unleash a mighty roar as a bonus action once per short or long rest.

Creatures of our choosing within 10 feet of us must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw (DC: 8 + our proficiency + our Constitution modifier) or be frightened of us until the end of our next turn (or 6 seconds, for out-of-combat use). We also have Hunter's Instincts, which lets us pick two skills from a list; let's go for Perception and Intimidation.

For Anhur's background, we're gonna modify the City Watch option a little bit: we're going to keep the proficiencies in Athletics and Insight (along with two languages of our choice), but we're shall swap out the Watcher's Eye feature for Fearsome Reputation from Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica. Basically, we are known for being ruthless and scary, and the NPCs will think twice before trying to provoke us. We can also get away with minor criminal offences.

ABILITY SCORES

We'll start with Dexterity since we're going to need it for our weapon. Constitution is next, always good to have a solid Hit Point base. We need Wisdom to follow, as we're a competent tactician and hunter (and also for multi-class later... spoilers).

Strength is next, as our weapon - the spear - is not a finesse one, we need this for basic attacks. We continue with Intelligence, and we'll dump Charisma.

CLASS

Level 1 - Fighter: We'll start with the classic warrior. We start with a d10 Hit Dice and [10 + Constitution modifier] Hit Points. We gain proficiency in light armour, medium armour, heavy armour, shields, simple weapons, and martial weapons. For Anhur, I'd choose a studded leather armour (AC: 12 + DEX) and, of course, we gotta go with a spear. Our saving throws proficiencies are Strength and Constitution, and we get to pick two class skills: let's go for Acrobatics and Survival.

This is also where we select our Fighting Style, and for Anhur it's crucial to get good with the spear, so we'll choose Thrown Weapon Fighting. Because ranged weapons and thrown weapons are two different things, we need some boost to our spear (who uses Strength for its damage and attack rolls) - with this, we get a +2 to the damage roll of our spear if we throw it.

We also get a quick healing option with Second Wind. Once per short or long rest, we can use a bonus action to heal [1d10 + our Fighter level] Hit Points.

Level 2 - Fighter: Here, we get Action Surge, which lets us take another Action doing our turn once per short or long rest. This effectively lets us attack twice in crucial moments.

Level 3 - Fighter: We pick our Martial Archetype, and it's going to come off as a surprise to some of you because we're going Eldritch Knight with this one!

With this, we get access to the Weapon Bond feature. This makes us and our spear practically inseparable; we cannot be disarmed if we're conscious and not incapacitated, and if we throw our weapon (or lose it) and it is still on the same Plane as we are, we can use our bonus action to teleport it to our hand.

Eldritch Knights also get some Spellcasting ability. Intelligence is our casting ability and the Save DC is [8 + proficiency bonus + Intelligence modifier]. We start with two cantrips:

Sword Burst creates a circle of blades (or spears :D) around us, forcing all creatures within 5 feet of us to make a Dexterity saving throw or take 1d6 force damage (damage increases when we level up).

Gust lets us unleash a puff of wind to either push a creature away, move an object weighing 5 pounds or less up to 10 feet or create a sensory effect like howling of the wind or closing the shutters/doors.

We also get three 1st-level spells (with two spell slots), two of which must be either abjuration or evocation type:

Jump triples the jump distance of any creature we touch, for 1 minute. In D&D there is a Long Jump – after 10 feet of running start we can cover a number of feet equal to our Strength score (NOT modifier) – and a High Jump, which is simply [3 + Strength modifier] feet of jumping up in the air.

Magic Missile creates up to three magical darts (or mini-spears :D) that always hit the selected target. Each dart deals 1d4 + 1 force damage and we can choose to target three separate creatures.

Shield is a reaction spell. If we're being attacked and it's a hit, we can add a +5 bonus to our AC until the end of our next turn.

Level 4 - Fighter: Time for the first Ability Score Improvement of this build! We increase our Strength and Dexterity with this one.

We get another spell slot, and we can pick another 1st-level spell: Earth Tremor causes the ground to shake. Each creature in 10 feet radius around us must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 1d6 bludgeoning damage and be knocked prone.

Level 5 - Ranger: Time to develop our hunting skills, by multi-classing into Ranger. I was considering playing around with the Spell-less variant of the class from Unearthed Arcana: Modifying Classes, but let's stick to the Revised class for now.

We still have the d10 Hit Dice, and we get to pick one Ranger skill to be proficient in; let's go for Investigation. We start with a Favoured Enemy, which if you've seen my Ah Muzen Cab build means we once again invoke the power of Fantasy Racism™ to be more efficient against a certain type of creatures (beasts, fey, humanoids, monstrosities, or undead). Just pick the type that fits your campaign the most to get a +2 bonus to damage against it and an advantage to Survival checks when tracking the chosen type.

We are also a Natural Explorer, which gives benefits to us and our party. For us:

We ignore the effects of difficult terrain;

We have an advantage on initiative rolls;

On our first turn during combat, we have an advantage on an attack against a creature that hadn't attacked yet.

Meanwhile, while travelling for 1 hour or more:

Difficult terrain doesn't slow the group down;

The group can't become lost, unless by means of magic;

The group cannot be surprised/ambushed;

If we're travelling alone, we can move stealthily at a normal pace;

We find twice as much food and water while foraging;

When tracking creatures, we learn their size, exact number, and how long ago they passed through the area we're in now.

Level 6 - Ranger: This is where Rangers get their Spellcasting ability. We gotta manage two of those now, as the Rangers' casting ability is Wisdom. Rangers don't learn cantrips, we have two 1-st level spell slots, and we learn two 1-st level spells:

Ensnaring Strike is a bonus action that causes vines and weeds (or, in our case, perhaps a vortex of shifting sands) to wrap around the target if we manage to successfully hit it with our weapon attack. The target must make a Strength saving throw or be restrained until the spell ends (1 minute, concentration). While restrained, the target also receives 1d6 piercing damage at the start of each of its turns.

Hunter's Mark is a bonus action, designating one target as your prey. For the spell's duration (1 hour, concentration), we add extra 1d6 damage to the target if we hit them with our weapon attack, and we have an advantage on Perception and Survival checks related to tracking the marked target. If the target dies before the spell ends, we can use our bonus action on the next turn to mark a new target.

We also get to pick a second Fighting Style (yes, they stack if we multi-class). Defence style is nice and simple, it gives us a +1 to our AC.

Level 7 - Ranger: We get Primeval Awareness, which lets us communicate simple ideas with non-hostile beasts, and read their mood and intent. They are not under our control, so we might still need to roll Persuasion or Intimidation (and face consequences), but because of this, encountering wild animals doesn't instantly result in a fight. We can also spend 1 minute in concentration and determine if our Favoured Enemy creature type is within 5 miles of us. If they are, we learn their numbers, distance from us, and general direction.

Three levels into the Ranger class, we get to pick our Ranger Conclave. For Anhur, we're going to pick the Hunter Conclave (duh). Our starting feature is Hunter's Prey, which lets us pick one of three benefits; let's go for Colossus Slayer – once per turn, we can add extra 1d8 damage to a successful weapon attack if our target is already injured ("below their Maximum Hit Points").

We also get another spell: Cure Wounds is a good healing option, letting a creature we touch (or ourselves) regaining [1d8 + our spellcasting ability] Hit Points, with the number increasing by 1d8 if we use higher spell slots.

Level 8 - Ranger: Time for another ASI! This time, let's boost our spellcasting abilities by putting points in Wisdom and Intelligence. We don't learn new spells at this level.

Level 9 - Ranger: Our Conclave gives us some more attacking options with Extra Attack. We can now attack twice instead of once whenever we choose to attack on our turn. In practice, this means we can combine it with the Fighter's Action Surge to attack one enemy four times.

We also unlock 2nd-level spell slots and get to pick another spell: with Spike Growth we can select a 20-foot-radius area within 150 feet of us and transform it into spikes (or perhaps spiky, sharpened sand? :D). When a creature moves into or through the area, they take 2d4 piercing damage for every 5 feet they move.

Level 10 - Ranger: Halfway through the build and we get Greater Favoured Enemy, which upgrades the creatures we're more efficient against into one of the following: aberrations, celestials, constructs, dragons, fiends, or giants. Again, tailor your choice to the overall campaign theme (if you're playing Horde of the Dragon Queen, it'd be pointless to pick 'giants', wouldn't it?)

Level 11 - Ranger: At this level we get another subclass upgrade. With Defensive Tactics we get to pick one of three options to get us some better protections. Multiattack Defence gives us a +4 to our AC, when we're hit and for all subsequent attacks done by that enemy for the rest of the turn. Many enemies use multiattack, so it's good to be prepared for that.

For this level's spell, Magic Weapon transforms our non-magical weapon into a magical one for up to 1 hour (concentration). Until the spell ends, that weapon has a +1 to both attack and damage rolls, and counts as magical for the purpose of overcoming resistances. The bonus increases if we use higher-level spell slots.

Level 12 - Ranger: Time for ASI! Let's tend to some of our weak spots: Intelligence and Charisma.

We also get the Fleet of Foot feature. We can now use the Dash option as a bonus action, which means if we really need to book it, we can now move 70 feet on our turn (105 if the DM agrees to utilize Dash as both action and bonus action - the wording is can not must ;D)

Level 13 - Ranger: At this level we get... well, nothing. Except access to 3rd-level spells, that is. And we shall take Conjure Barrage for this one; it lets us use a piece of ammunition (or a thrown weapon) and multiply it in a 60-foot cone. Each creature within the cone must make a Dexterity saving throw or suffer 3d8 points of damage (type of which is determined by the ammunition/weapon used) and half as much on a successful save.

Level 14 - Ranger: We get the Hide in Plain Sight feature, which makes our sneaky hunter lion extra sneaky. When we're hiding on our turn, we can opt to sacrifice our movement this round to impose a penalty (-10 to Perception checks) on enemies that search for us. If we move or fall prone (no matter if we want to, or are forced), we loose the benefit. Otherwise, we can keep using it indefinitely.

Level 15 - Ranger: Here, we get another subclass upgrade. Multiattack gives us an option to go against multiple foes at once. If you have a ranged weapon in your build, pick Volley, but here we'll go for Whirlwind Attack – it lets us make a melee attack against any number of creatures within 5 feet of us (we roll for each attack and damage).

We get another 3rd-level spell in our repertoire: Protection from Energy lasts for 1 hour (concentration) and grants us resistance to one of the following damage types: acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder.

Level 16 - Ranger: Another ASI! Time to scrape those high-levels of ability, so let's get a +2 to our Dexterity.

Level 17 - Ranger: Once again, we get no class features, just access to 4th-level spells. Freedom of Movement protects us from effects that would normally hinder our... well, movement. For 1 hour we (or any willing creature we touch) are immune to difficult terrain and spells that would cause us to lose our speed (such as Haste), as well as paralysis and being restrained. Nothing can stop the hunter from chasing its prey. We can also spend 5 feet of movement to escape non-magical restraints, such as shackles or ropes.

Level 18 - Ranger: Here, we learn how to Vanish. We can use the Hide action as a bonus action from now own, and we cannot be tracked by non-magical means, unless we decide to leave trail.

Level 19 - Ranger: We get our last subclass upgrade. Superior Hunter's Defence gives us a choice to enhance our defences.

Not necessarily, T'Challa...

We will, however, get Evasion, as it's too good not to take. If we're forced to make a Dexterity saving throw, which results in taking half-damage on a successful one (such as Fireball), we instead take no damage.

And for our final spell of this build, Stoneskin gives us resistance to non-magical piercing, bludgeoning, and slashing damage for 1 hour (concentration).

Level 20 - Ranger: Our capstone is... an ASI? Apparently, so let's bump up our Strength by 2 points.

---

A'right, that is Anhur. Let's see what we have:

Well, we are a very nimble, spear-throwing lion. With a +4 to our Initiative, we are almost guaranteed to be somewhere in the beginning of a fight. With an average of 184 Hit Points and 17 AC at level 20, we can take some damage. We also have a nice combat-related abilities with two 16s and one 18.

Charisma is, unfortunately, our lowest and most hindering ability. With that, we might be in trouble when facing such spells as Banishment, Zone of Truth, involuntary Plane Shift, or trying to escape the Forcecage.

---

Anyway, I hoped you enjoy this hunt with Anhur, and I'll see you in the next one!

- Nerdy out!

[arcticdementor]

That's a fatality! A reader of Corporate Cancer writes to tell of her experience fighting back against, and roundly defeating, a pair of infesting SJWs.

…

I'm a board member of an organization that provides a direct, well regarded program to help families in our rural community gain a financial toehold. In the time that I was away from the board on maternity-leave, a Boomer-SJW and a GenX-SJW, so stereotypical they could be caricatures of themselves, took over the board and made great efforts to redirect the program so that it would primarily benefit single white women like themselves, instead of our target group of young families. We were on the verge of having our bank pull out and the entire program dying as a result. A banker friend on the board had been complaining to me about it all year, but didn't have the tools to lead a counteroffensive.

In my first meeting back on the board, Boomer-SJW and GenX-SJW pressured the board into passing a vote that was a blatantly illegal act of self-dealing, in favor of their SJW-oriented vision. It also became clear that GenX-SJW had A LOT of time on her hands and was making up problems for herself to spend months solving.

…

Following the advice in Corporate Cancer to kill them with the rules, I sent out a lengthy email holding up the illegal vote against our bylaws and state laws, and asking the board to rescind the vote and conduct it legally.

I promptly received an email, copied to the whole board, from Boomer-SJW about how she was too upset to even consider my arguments because my email was so mean that she had been crying since receiving it. I "replied all" to the entire board with a one liner saying "Regardless of your feelings on the matter, the action is still illegal and needs to be rescinded."

She followed up, to me alone, with a long wall-of-text email about her feelings and how she had been crying for three days and how mean I was by "sea-gulling" her (apparently this means, swooping in and "crapping" on someone's head). She insisted that I owed the whole board a public apology for being mean.

…

And the drama seriously escalated, with GenX-SWJ losing her mind in Zoom meeting - head in hands, pulling at her hair, accusing everyone on the board personally of corruption for not giving her what she wanted, and declaring our employees to be derelict in their duty because in their shoes she would do more [magically impossible things, like having our bank recruit other banks to fund us] "BECAUSE I'M AN ACTIVIST!" In private conversations afterwards, the employees and other board members were actually using the words "mentally unwell," "unstable," and "needs help."  She followed up with an email making mountains out of mole hills, and appointing all of the work of fixing it to herself, or else she would quit. I'm not privy to what actions the board president took, but the next communication was her resignation letter.

Left on her lonesome, Boomer-SJW and her feelings didn't know what to do with themselves, and she resigned just a month later. All-in-all our six month counteroffensive only took four months to come to completion, and really only three actions: holding them to the rules, not apologizing, and focusing on deliverables and deadlines to be performed by the most competent person available.

…

Our meetings are back on track, our program is focusing on our intended beneficiaries, we have a competent lawyer helping us, and we're getting ready for our phase-two roll out. We've cut both the meeting times and the number of committee meetings in half and are getting twice as much work done.

All of which is to say thank you - for providing the framework, vocabulary, and encouragement that helped me excise the cancer from our organization. In terms of real-world impact, your writings and blog posts on this topic have helped keep [families] on the path to homeownership, when the project would otherwise be dead.

[itach-i]

“We’ll See” (Manorian) (Chapter 2)

_____________________________________________________________

After the war at Orynth, Manon Blackbeak and Dorian Havilliard decided that rebuilding their kingdoms would be the best course of action, leaving whatever they felt for each other up in the air. What happens when they finally make time to see each other again? (Link on ff.net)

________________________________________________________________

Spring - Chapter 1 ________________________________________________________________

Broken Glass - Chapter 2

Dorian

Dorian cringed as he realized that his constant pacing might very well cause a hole in the guest room at the Westfall Fortress. Calming himself, Dorian looked out and was disappointed to see the sun just begin to rise lazily over the mountains. Although he had been very nervous and anxious about his meeting with Manon after months apart and leaving things so up in the air, he did not expect sleep to evade him as it had.

There had been a lot of thinking done since the Witch-Queen accepted the offer to meet up in Anielle, and most of it had nothing to do with business or politics and all to do with him wanting to share meals, stories…a bed.

He even stupidly wondered if she had met someone. He knew a good number of Fae had moved to the Wastes, knew there were plenty of males and females who whispered about her beauty, even while in the middle of battle back in Orynth. There was no way she hadn't received come-ons since then, especially when she was so venerated.

His letter had been titled 'Princeling' however, and Dorian was a little ashamed to admit that he kept the thing on his nightstand, if only because his budding and confusing feelings for her had only intensified.

His magic made him turn toward the window and through the dark he could've sworn-

The boom of wings, familiar even after all these months apart made his heart skip a beat and Dorian didn't care that it was barely dawn and he looked like he had not slept since getting there, the king sped out of there like he was being chased, going out into the emptied courtyard that had been prepped for this very reason and watching, entranced, as a small adult wyvern landed on the dirt ground a few feet in front of him.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her white hair was unbound and wind-kissed, falling alluringly over her shoulders in a way that made him want to run his hands through it. The face was what really blew him away though, especially with that small smile that made his chest feel tight.

Manon Blackbeak-Crochan dropped down from her wyvern in one swift motion and watched him carefully, the smile still in place as she said, "hello, princeling."

There were a million questions he wanted to ask, a million things he wanted to tell her, but he only grinned back. "Hello, witchling," he breathed out before walking forward.

The fresh spring sunrise, even in Anielle, made her absolutely shimmer and Dorian hesitated for only a moment before he asked, "can-may we hug?"

Manon seemed to need a few seconds before she focused on what he was saying, as if she had been drinking him in too. He didn't have to wait for an answer as she went forward herself and oh, he could have melted at the hug, at the feeling of her pressed against him, the scent of winter winds and cool night air enveloping him, filling in an emptiness he hadn't even realized existed before.

Home.

That's what she felt like.

Dorian hadn't noticed how tightly he was hugging her until he felt a wiggle, and he moved away, apologies on his lips before he caught the expression on her face.

"Sorry, someone doesn't like being squished."

Confusion overtook him as Manon unbuttoned the top part of her leathers. Dorian's jaw dropped as the cutest kitten he had ever seen popped it's little white and gray head out, meowing loudly. "Oh, my Wyrd," he exclaimed as the witch took the little creature out and cradled it delicately in her hands.

"This is Nieve," she muttered.

Regaining his manhood, Dorian held back a squeal. "You got a kitten?" He asked and the face she made had him chuckling.

"I suppose I did," Manon said as the king patted the little one's head and the kitten blinked large green eyes at him. From her tone, he wondered who among Glennis, Petrah, and Brownen had managed to convince her to keep it. Maybe a mix of all three.

When Nieve meowed again, Dorian spoke. "We should go inside, just in case she gets too cold."

Manon turned to Abraxos just as a guard bowed low to both of them. "We have accommodations for your wyvern, Your Majesty."

The witch seemed surprised, and after a look of confirmation from Dorian who knew that the stable had been outfitted to fit a wyvern comfortably, she nodded to the guard. A quick goodbye to Abraxos, who sniffed at the kitten once before giving a slight nuzzle to Manon and they were inside the fortress walking along the hallway Dorian had been sprinting through only minutes before.

"Would you like to hold her?" Manon asked after a moment and Dorian tried to keep his excitement in as he nodded.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring any guards with you," he said as the kitten took one look at who was holding her and attempted to climb the new obstacle. The obstacle being Dorian's chest.

"They'll be here in a couple of hours, once they notice I'm gone."

Dorian laughed. "And I thought I was being sneaky when I left my tower two weeks ago through the window. Took my guards about an hour to notice I was gone, and the panic that spread was so intense, I haven't tried it again."

Manon huffed in amusement as she took in the barren walls and old sconces doting the hallway. "I wanted to get here first." She looked at him then, and despite having a kitten trying to climb up his head using surprisingly sharp claws, he was struck by her expression. Gods, she was beautiful.

"I'm glad you got here first," he answered sincerely. Before he got too distracted and tried to kiss her, he added, "Lord Westfall has a room prepped for you on the other side of the fortress. I can take you there if you want or…"

Unsure of where they stood, he met those burnt gold eyes and wondered how he was going to stop his heart from breaking if she decided to stay away from him, even if they were still in the same building.

"Or?" She asked.

He smiled, red tinting his cheeks. "Or you could stay with me."

They stared at each other for a moment, Dorian wondering if he had been too forward. Manon opened her mouth-

"I thought I heard a wyvern land," someone else interrupted, and it took a second for the King of Adarlan to turn his gaze.

Yrene stood before them, in a lovely spring dress that complemented her eyes and left space for her large belly. Her smile was wide as she took in Manon. "Your Majesty," she said happily as she gave a short bow in the witch's direction.

Manon raised an eyebrow as she nodded back. "Hello Yrene, you know you don't have to call me that."

Yrene just waved her off before those hazel eyes bulged. "Is that a kitten?!"

By the time they had made it to the common room, Yrene had been hissed and pawed at twice before Manon could convince the tiny cat that she wasn't an enemy wanting to take her away.

Chaol's father, Lord Westfall sat at the front of a large fireplace his son speaking to him in a low voice next to him. Dorian didn't need to use his magic to know the King's Hand was trying desperately to have his father behave in front of foreign royalty. He couldn't wait to see how the Lord of Anielle and the Witch-Queen would interact.

Chaol noticed them first and cleared his throat before lowering his head as far as his spine would allow. With Yrene's progressing pregnancy, he had less help from her magic and would need his chair more often, not that it concerned him. "Your Majesty," he greeted sternly, "welcome to Anielle. Thank you for joining us."

Dorian smiled at his friend, who gave his father a quick look as the old man spoke. "So, you're the Witch-Queen?" He paused and observed Manon closely. "I hope the title was gained through your competence and not your looks."

Chaol appeared absolutely mortified, while Yrene and Dorian shared a wide look. Manon, however, was calm as could be as she simply said, "your home is lovely."

Lord Westfall seemed unconvinced. "Yes, well, please do not interrupt the work being done here." If the old man meant the work Dorian and Chaol had been doing with the ruhkin or the fact that the man had gotten into his head that he somehow had influence over any sort of decision made by Adarlan, Dorian couldn't begin to guess.

His witchling only gave the lord a smile that would send lesser men running. "I'm sure with a king like the one you have; nothing will hinder any work you have going." Dorian could have kissed her as he held back a grin.

A sneer was her answer, but then Lord Westfall seemed to notice something, especially as it meowed several times and made Yrene scramble to keep the little one in her arms. He outright glared at Manon, and Dorian knew for a fact that the man had never encountered a witch before, or he would have been extensively more careful with what he said and did around someone who could literally skin him alive without much effort.

"Animals of any kind are not allowed within these walls. They carry and propagate diseases. I'm sure the stablemen can find a spot for the beast outside this keep."

As amusing as it was watching Chaol's father face off against Manon, there was a line being drawn here that Dorian was not a fan of letting it be crossed. "With how good the witch healers are, I'm sure Nieve carries no diseases," he informed charmingly, "and you are speaking to royalty here, Lord Westfall, I'm sure Her Majesty will keep the kitten secure."

The man only scowled before asking to be dismissed as his breakfast would be served soon and he preferred eating alone.

"Good riddance," Yrene muttered, low enough for only Manon and Dorian to hear and causing both of them to smile. When they were finally out of earshot and able to breathe better Chaol, who had followed after them, let out a breath in relief.

"Now that that's over with…breakfast?"

Even though she nodded along with Dorian and Yrene, Manon went for Nieve. "I should set her up in a room first, it's been a long trip and she's very hungry." Considering how the kitten was meowing like it truly was near starvation, Manon was wise to want to feed her.

"I think I'd be screaming just as loudly if I wasn't a human," Yrene cut in, "come love, I need chocolate."

As Chaol was dragged away in his chair, both Manon and Dorian chuckled as they overheard him say "chocolate for breakfast? I think not" followed by a low growl that made Dorian glad he wasn't at the receiving end of.

Left alone with a loud kitten, the king swallowed nervously as he faced Manon. "So-"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"What?"

"I'd like to share a room with you," Manon clarified and as he smiled, she added, "just as long as you don't mind some extra company." She lifted the kitten, who mewled like she knew they were talking about her.

Dorian bowed low, "I'd be honored." ________________________________________________________________

Manon

Her witches arrived a little earlier than she expected, and Manon wondered what Dorian was thinking when one of her two guards, a young Yellowlegs witch named Ash snarled at her for leaving without them. That spitfire attitude and her intense loyalty were the main reasons Manon herself had selected the witch from among many volunteers.

"You do know she is our queen, right? Regardless of how thoughtless some of her decisions are you should show respect."

Manon narrowed her eyes at her other guard, a Crochan witch who appeared and acted more like a Blackbeak with dark hair and eyes called Skye. Where Ash was all recklessness and fire, Skye was the calm before the storm, intelligent and logical. Brownen had introduced her to Manon not two days after their arrival at the Wastes, and she had proven herself enough that she stood here now, a soot-black wyvern in tow.

"I expected you both an hour from now," was the only thing Manon replied as the wyverns were led to the stables where Abraxos was currently staying in. "Nice job."

"A test?!" Ash demanded, enraged.

Manon only shrugged, uncaring as she faced Dorian, who was eyeing the two witches with an expression the Witch-Queen didn't want to identify. He caught himself as Skye remembered her manners. "Your Majesty," she said, bowing at Dorian. "I am Skye Crochan and this fool is Ash Yellowlegs."

The Yellowlegs scoffed, but joined in on the bow, her wild tangle of blond hair barely contained within her war braids. Dorian smiled at them both, the expression from before now gone. "It's nice to meet you both."

He met eyes with Manon, "ready for the ruhkin?"

The witch nodded, going over what he had told her as she had prepared a small pen for Nieve to stay in back in their room and after a shared breakfast of eggs, meats, and toast. The ruhkin and the wyvern eggs had been camping out near Anielle for the past few months on a nearby mountain that had a road which connected to the town below. Ideally, they would be moving to the Ferian Gap, if not to live there permanently, then to use it as a place to train both wyverns and riders until they were ready to return to Rifthold. Ruhks were also brought in, to Manon's surprise, and new hatchlings would be raised and trained next to wyverns, both to get them used to each other and form bonds.

During her time in the Wastes, Manon had taken up lessons and read books on history and culture. It had been slow to start at first, especially when her thoughts would constantly drift, but it had been worth it and when Dorian introduced her to Iaras and Nebur, a pair of sibling riders that had been chosen to lead the host in Adarlan she was at least partially acquainted with their culture and hierarchy.

The duo, who didn't particularly look like siblings apart from being of the same territory, had bowed and offered a greeting in Halha to which she responded in kind. The silence afterward had made her blink, wondering if her pronunciation had been wrong and she had said something offensive in its place.

"You speak Halha?" Iaras had asked, her voice deep and fitting for her stature, as tall or taller than Dorian even when she was a woman.

Manon had understood the question but reverted back to the common tongue. "I've only learned some of the basics. A family that had been based in Antica and fought in the war decided to make the Wastes their home with us. One of the older siblings had been a scholar and offered to tutor me every so often." For some reason, Dorian had stared at her like she was a different person, the admiration being mirrored in the siblings' faces. It made Manon fall quiet.

Nebur grinned, his ruggedly handsome face crinkling. "You honor us, Your Majesty, you seem to be as lovely as you look."

The clear suggestive tone made Manon raise an amused eyebrow as Dorian cleared his throat and Iaras shook her head. "Ignore him, Your Majesties, he is shameless. Please, let us show you how we keep the hatchlings before you decide to end this whole thing altogether."

Manon had been impressed by the resourcefulness of the ruhkin. Not only did their camp appear more like a town than a temporary garrison, the little information they got from the witches before the leave in Orynth was used to the fullest. They utilized greenhouses to simulate a warm nesting ground and positioned the few grown wyverns they had in strategic places where makeshift aeries had been made of wood and lightweight brick.

The camp itself had the tents and small buildings where hearths and living spaces were kept. A small market and school were even present in the center plaza, which consisted of a recently built stone well that served as the village center. At this altitude even the warmth of spring couldn't reach, and snow still covered most of the open areas. The cold reminded Manon of the Wastes and she wondered how exactly Dorian noticed her distraction when he had asked about her thoughts whilst in the middle of their tour.

They ended up staying for a good number of hours planning, meeting, and looking over the grown wyverns, the handful of hatchlings, and the eggs. Although Manon had very little experience with young wyverns, an Overseer back in Morath had spent a week showing her the pens within the mountains and taught her about how they figured out when and where to separate wyverns and if a hatchling was even viable to begin with.

The rukhin siblings had listened to her closely, even with Nebur's charming compliments whenever she had something to say. After sharing a lunch with a group of potential wyvern riders, Manon and Dorian finally made their way back to the forest directly next to the Westfall fortress. They had chatted excitedly the entire way, and Manon felt herself smiling more than she ever had, especially when the king seemed to be as interested in the development of the aerial legion as she had.

There was a moment, however, where Dorian stopped, and Manon felt a hint of nerves as he waited for her to stand next to him. His smile was still present, which kept her worries at bay, but the way he was looking at her made the witch reconsider their day together. She supposed there was still much to talk about, and although they were sharing a room, neither had made a move for intimacy, not that it had been easy to do with the schedule they carried.

"I know there are a lot of things right now that need our attention," he began and the way the sun reflected on his dark hair, a bit longer than she last saw him, made him look all the more beautiful. "And I also know that despite all the good news going on with our kingdoms, there is still a lot of work to be done."

Manon nodded, because he seemed to need it. Slowly, tantalizingly, Dorian lifted a hand and when he placed it on her cheek, she couldn't help but get closer, her eyes dropping to his lips. Yes, there were many things to talk about, many questions unanswered, but there had been a need building within her from the moment she saw him. She could see it in his eyes too, the want to be alone.

"I'm surprised it took you this long, princeling," she teased, her voice dropping into a purr that made his eyes flash.

Warmth began to pool in her belly as he leaned down. His hand dropped from her neck to her waist, the blatant possession breaking the fog she had been living with and replacing it with sapphire-colored starlight. He smirked as his lips brushed hers. "It's worth it, the wait for you."

Manon couldn't help herself as she initiated the kiss, closing the distance and tasting home as he responded readily, as hungry as she was. Her hands traveled up from his hips to his neck and the groan he gave her only made her want him closer. She might have said it into the kiss, because Dorian was suddenly picking her up, her legs hooking around his waist as he placed her against a tree.

Manon would have allowed him to take her right there if he wanted to, even with the cold or potentially prying eyes, but he broke the kiss and when she growled in protest he chuckled.

"As much as I would like to have you against this tree," he told her as he pressed his body against hers causing Manon to breath out. "I want to take all the time I need while I worship you."

She went for his face and kissed him again, but it was softer this time, more a promise than anything else. "We do share a room," Manon muttered and the smile he gave her made her consider just stripping off everything right there and then instead of waiting until they got to the room. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It was almost painful to extricate himself from her, to place the witch down and settle for holding her hand as they both hurried to the fortress. Dorian took her through the servant quarters, avoiding anyone that came close and stealing kisses as they went as if they were in one of the many romance novels he enjoyed reading.

They had time to themselves until dinner, and Dorian would make sure he spent that time wisely. As they passed the last corner that lead into their room, his mind already coming up with ways to enjoy themselves, Manon suddenly froze. So intense was her change, that Dorian's magic surged as it searched for the source of her fear. Because it was fear that was going through her as she said, "the door is open."

Thinking she could sense someone in there, Dorian used his magic to check ahead, but when he found nothing, he just looked back at her. The witch went for the door and when he followed her in, he finally understood. Although everything in the room was untouched and their things were exactly where they left them, just as the door, the small balcony screen was wide open, the chill air making the curtains rustle.

Manon dropped in front of the small pen she had so carefully prepared that morning, the blankets and toys were tossed around, but the small box filled with hay so that the kitten had a place to relieve itself in the corner was untouched. Only the food was gone, which the kitten had eaten while he and Manon had still been in the room. He remembered they had left the little one cuddled up to a stuffed toy under a blanket, warm and safe.

"We'll find her, alright?" Dorian said as he went to the balcony and prayed the kitten wasn't splattered on the cobblestone below. He rushed back into the room when he saw nothing of the sort or any evidence that the kitten had been out in the balcony at all. "She must be somewhere close."

But Manon wasn't listening and as the king stopped his searching for long enough to notice he knew Chaol had been right. She was on her knees, head tilted down, shoulders in, looking as broken and sad as she had that first night he found her in the aerie next to Abraxos back in Orynth.

His heart broke at the sight, at the thoughts that had filled his mind all day when he saw her smile and joke and wanting him. He shouldn't have let what he saw on the surface fool him. Manon wasn't fine, she was thinner, had gone ahead of her sentinels because she couldn't sleep, and although interested in what ruhkin were doing with the wyverns he had caught her losing focus and being distracted. And although she ate that morning and during lunch the portions had been meager, as if she couldn't bring herself to eat more.

Stupid of him, to ignore it all because he had been living in his own little perfect fantasy. Selfish of him too, especially because what he saw now was a witch who had been walking on glass since she left Orynth and a single wrong step would send her crashing. The kitten going missing was the breaking point.

Determination filled him as Dorian focused. He would help his witchling, and make sure he wouldn't make the same mistake again. Manon's sentinels had been left back at the camp to help with some of the grown wyverns and there had been no guards in front of their room because there had been no one in there to guard. Except for a tiny, very important, kitten. Whatever had happened, there probably hadn't been any witnesses.

So the king reached out with his magic and searched for Yrene with it, letting her know that he needed help with a brush against her own healing magic. He wouldn't leave Manon's side, even when he knew every second counted when it came to retrieving Nieve.

Both Chaol and Yrene came soon after, along with a half dozen guards, and while the healer immediately went to Manon, Dorian quickly explained to Chaol what had happened. The man nodded along with what his king said and Dorian had never loved his brother as much as he did that moment when Chaol only said, "I'll handle it, stay with her." ________________________________________________________________

Chaol

Chaol Westfall did not spend much time observing the witch or the fact that his wife was quietly trying to get Manon to lower her hands from her ears, as if the broken Witch-Queen had wanted to shut all sound out.

He turned to Dorian. "I'll handle it, stay with her."

The king thanked him, relieved, and the Hand didn't think too long on how terrified Dorian was, the concern so deeply etched in his face that Chaol feared the man was already too far down in his love for the witch to get back up.

So, he did what any friend would do. What any brother would do.

He took care of it.

With a quick motion, he ordered all the guards out of the room. Once in the hallway he sent five of the six away in search of the cat. To the last one he asked, "where's my father?"

Because nothing went on in the fortress without his father knowing and the fact that both the door and the balcony screen had been open while nothing had been taken was a clear indication that this entire thing could be internally orchestrated. Despite the letters Chaol, his mother, and brother now shared and even when his father seemed at least pleased that Chaol was about to become a father himself, the man still had plenty of problems that they still had to work on.

Hardly relying on his cane with the surge of Yrene's healing magic coursing through him, the King's Hand practically barreled through the double doors that led to his father's study on the western edge of the complex.

Lord Westfall glared daggers at him as Chaol made his way to the desk. "You may be my son, but barging in like this is-"

"Where's the cat?" Chaol cut in, his voice as sharp as the look he was receiving from his father.

Lord Westfall didn't even bother to look surprised as he asked, bitterly, "what cat?"

Knowing nightfall was approaching and also aware of how this was affecting not just Manon, but her entire kingdom, Chaol cut all corners. "You're going to listen to what I'm about to tell you and you will not, under any circumstances, interrupt me. Am I clear?"

There was pure distaste in his father's eyes, but the man said nothing as he sat back in his expensive leather chair. At least he was willing to listen.

"Manon Blackbeak not only defied and fought against her own people for the good of Erilea and the world, she aided Terassen in its call for help, saved your King on two separate occasions, risked her life multiple times, and was a key player in keeping all of us safe and alive. And because I know your memory seems to fail you in your old age, she also lost her entire family that day and she is still grieving heavily because of it."

He paused to take breath and to also allow the words to settle and permeate.

"So not only is she a new queen of a new kingdom, she also has to deal with uniting a people who had been at war for centuries, protecting her new vulnerable borders, and actively form alliances. She's here to help us, help Adarlan, when she could have refused. And she is doing all this while having lost all twelve of her sisters mere months ago. I know you heard Yrene when she spoke to me this morning on how pets can help tremendously in the grieving process. So, not only do you insult her presence here by telling her animals are not allowed but after knowing how deep her grief is you decide to be the villain and take her cat too?"

Fury danced freely in Chaol's eyes, his hand shaking as he gripped his cane so hard his knuckles were beginning to hurt. Because he knew what pain was, had watched Dorian go through it, Aelin, had experienced it himself while in the southern continent. He was done with it and he was not about to let his own father continue to propagate it.

Lord Westfall's jaw shifted, his teeth gritted, as he took his time arranging the papers on his large mahogany desk and cleared his throat.

When Chaol was about to tell him that he would do nothing to protect him if Dorian came down for a talk later, the man spoke. "I had a servant take the cat to the stables with Her Majesty's wyvern. I'm sure the two beasts are fine."

The King's Hand wasted no time, slamming the door to the study behind him as he practically ran to the stables, ignoring the stinging in his back as he did so. The wyverns all had large open wooden stables built to the north side of the fortress, on the highest elevated part of the structure, and remained free to hunt and roam in the nearby forest for game and, in Abraxos' case, to lay in the new spring flowers that bloomed even in Anielle. The issue with these stables was how cold it could get. While the wyverns enjoyed it, Chaol worried the tiny cat wouldn't be able to survive the temperature for very long.

The man had no need to worry as he spotted Abraxos curled up in the middle of the five stables, the two other wyverns that had come with the witches were busy snoozing closer to the tree line. Unused to being so close to Abraxos, and mindful that his rider wasn't here, Chaol kept his distance as the scarred head turned to him.

"Um, hello Abraxos."

Did wyverns understand? What kind of commands did this ancient animal even know?

"Is the kitten-is Nieve with you?" Please just let the kitten be alive, please.

Impossibly, Abraxos perked at the sound of the cat's name and the wyvern carefully lifted its spread wing to reveal a tiny little bundle curled up against the scale-less stomach. Alive, breathing, and meowing loudly as it spotted Chaol watching even from the relative distance.

"Okay, don't eat me, I just want to take the cat back to Manon, okay?" He told Abraxos, feeling dumb the entire time. "I'm taking Nieve to Manon," he repeated slowly.

That large tail started moving, and Chaol swore the wyvern was watching him in amusement as the man inched forward until he was practically within the stable. Heart beating fast, Chaol muttered about the many ways Dorian would repay him as he took the kitten and backed away like Abraxos might reconsider and take a chunk out of him. ________________________________________________________________

Dorian

It felt like an eternity since Chaol had left with the guards and when he came back. Dorian had felt utterly powerless as Manon had succumbed further into a spiral, looking for all intents and purposes utterly defeated. Not even Yrene's whispers of comfort got through her, and although Dorian wanted to help, he had no idea of what to say, because he recognized the look in her glazed eyes. He had experienced something similar when he lost Sorscha, when he had been trapped by the Wyrdstone collar, a Valg prince inside him.

He had been softly stroking her hair when Chaol rushed in, breathing heavily and leaning into his cane while in his free hand-

Yrene stood up with an 'oh!,' before taking the kitten, tears already forming in her eyes as she went back to Manon and Dorian. The latter spoke. "Nieve's right here, Manon. She's fine and safe. Chaol found her."

Recognizing the witch, the kitten positively screamed, fighting against Yrene and dropping into Manon's waiting hands. As if a veil had been lifted, that beautiful face regained motion and Dorian felt emotion rise within him as he watched her lift the purring kitten and take her close to her chest.

She looked behind them, to Chaol, who was still catching his breath. "Thank you."

Even Dorian smiled at the redness in his Hand's cheeks as the man bowed. "Anytime, Your Majesty." ________________________________________________________________

*'Nieve' is Spanish for 'snow' and is pronounced knee-eh-veh. Within tog the cat isn't a specific breed, but for the sake of how I imagine her, Nieve is a white and gray Siberian Cat, so she's going to grow quite big and fluffy.

Tags: @rufousnmacska (my lovely beta), @awesomelena555, @bookishwitchling  If you’d like to be included in the tags, please let me know!

Thank you! My other Manorian fics.

[mamthew]

Been playing the Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles remaster some since it dropped, and I have some thoughts on it. It’s been a…really long time since I last played the original, and I never was able to get too far in, since I was so new to video games that I was unable to intuit most of its mechanics. Despite this, I fell in love with the game. For quite some time, it was the only game with “Final Fantasy” in the title that I had played. I played, enjoyed, and beat its three sequels: Echoes of Time, Ring of Fates, and The Crystal Bearers (neither of the My Life As spinoffs, but eh).

This remaster is not a good remaster, but mostly not for the reasons I’ve seen put forth online. The developers didn’t do much to improve the visuals, sure, but honestly the art direction of the game was pretty enough anyway that it skates by on that alone. The load screens are not nearly as long as I’d been led to believe. The gameplay is unchanged from the original, and like…I like the gameplay of the original? That’s why I played the remaster? I want to play the game?

My biggest issue with the remaster is how the online is handled, but reviewers have straight up lied about problems with the online? Like…you have a permanent friend code you can give people. The temporary online codes you can generate are different from the permanent one. Why are reviewers saying your online code changes every 30 minutes and you can’t save permanent friends when that’s demonstrably false? Seems like a thing you maybe shouldn’t be writing in your official review.

I’m going to put my own issues with the online aside for a moment, though. I promise we’ll come back to it, but my issues with the remaster are only understood in the larger context of what the game did as a piece of art and what it no longer does now as a result of the changes. First, then, we’ve got to lay down what Crystal Chronicles did as a piece of art. Crystal Chronicles, I’ve come to realize during this playthrough, is a game about storytelling as collective memory, and much of the game’s mechanics work in service to this theme.

In the world of the game, something happened long ago that released poisonous miasma into the air and made much of the world uninhabitable to the four major races. The game follows the players’ customized characters as they take annual pilgrimages to collect enough “myrrh” from magical trees, which is used to maintain the barrier that keeps their town safe from the miasma. The game is broken up into years; it takes four drops of myrrh to maintain the barrier for a year, each dungeon’s tree only provides one drop of myrrh, and it takes several years for a tree to replenish that drop, pushing the characters’ caravan further and further out each year in search of trees that are not yet spent.

I’ve compared this setting to Death Stranding a few times in the past, and I think the comparison holds up. The game’s story has only gained something from the current moment, too. I go out and risk myself to get groceries, which I then bring back home so I can continue to hole up safe in quarantine until I run low again, and I think the game fairly accurately simulates the rise and fall of that pattern, the balance of risk and safety, and the way the dangerous unknown eventually becomes the mundane with time. Most of the locations in the game are old products of civilization that have been lost to nature, and walking through former farmland, abandoned roads, and empty towns in the game do remind me of walking down empty city streets back when coronavirus was still keeping people off city streets.

The game has several stories running in tandem, but the most central one is the ongoing story of the characters’ caravan, chronicled in a journal. After every new encounter, new area, or completed dungeon, a new entry is added to the journal, and at the end of the year, all the entries are incorporated into a cutscene, so the player can read them and relive the year’s events. The entries are very short and written in a simple style, but they still give the player an idea of how their character viewed the events. These end-of-year cutscenes are actually really enjoyable little rituals, and I’ve been avoiding reading the journal entries specifically so I can experience them for the first time in these retrospectives.

As the years progress, the character’s entries show that their memories of earlier years are fading. “Whenever I close my eyes, I vividly remember all my adventures,” says the entry at the end of the first year. By the end of the fourth year, however, “so many memories from my earlier adventures have dimmed, from the joys of chance encounters to the suspense of my first battles.” The entries also show the ways the annual pilgrimages have changed the player character. “It was an easy fight, so I spent a peaceful interlude over a light meal,” says an entry after revisiting an older dungeon. “I was a little surprised. I never considered myself a fighter.”

The written and oral records of the past permeate this game in so many ways. Before each dungeon, a narrator who is presumably another caravanner who went to the same places in the past introduces the location with either a history of the place or an anecdote about the place. The Mushroom Forest, to her, evokes a childhood memory of her mother. She introduces the Veo Lu Sluice by explaining the history of who built the sluice, what conditions allowed for its construction, and what its irrigation has done for the people since. After each dungeon, the player character receives a letter from a family member, telling them what has been happening in the town while they were away. At the beginning of each new year, the town’s patriarch tells your character a story about the previous caravanner, who mysteriously disappeared after announcing he had found a way to remove the miasma entirely.

It feels like history, generally, has been put on hold. The Lilty military once dominated most of the world, but had to shrink back into their capital city due to the miasma, and the city eventually diminished to a small trading post. The Yukes once were at war with the Lilties, but they’ve allowed trade between their towns again, so caravans can have safe havens to stay in while collecting the precious myrrh. The once-nomadic Selkies were unable to find a new homeland before the miasma spread, and now most are stuck on an island that was supposed to be a temporary stop. We hear much of this history throughout the game, but we don’t see any of it. It’s recorded and known but has little bearing on the culture or lived experiences of the inhabitants of a world where no one can leave their homes.

The moogle adventurer Stiltzkin asks the player character where memories go once they’ve been forgotten, and it’s a fair question in a world where everyone is as alienated from the past as they are from each other 

The problem is, this isn’t supposed to be a game about alienation, exactly. It’s supposed to be a game about shared experiences and the ways we experience and remember the same events differently, as different individuals. It’s supposed to be a game about combatting alienation through shared experience. This is supposed to be a game in which I share a screen with three other players even as we each also have our own personal screens providing us with different objectives and showing us different letters from our different families. In the original game, the multiplayer was devilishly difficult to actually set up, as each player had to have their own Gameboy Advance, attached to the Gamecube and used as a controller, to control their own character. The players’ characters lived in the same town and were on the same caravan together but competed over who unlocked which powerups and picked up which recipes, meaning everyone’s stat spread and armor was different. Players had slightly different experiences within the larger shared story, and the use of the Gameboy Advances were meant to highlight those differences.

Which leads to my issue with this remaster. In the original, characters were saved to the same file, and every player’s character lived together in the same town. Their families each had different houses in the towns and would eventually provide the party with different supplies, depending on their jobs and the responses they received to their letters. At the end of each dungeon, the player characters would sit together in a circle and each receive a letter from their families. At the end of each year, the retrospective cutscene showed the characters and their families celebrating their return together. Your characters explored towns together, and your fellow players watched the random encounter cutscenes with you.

In this game, you can’t play local multiplayer at all. You can only play online multiplayer in dungeons, and clearing a dungeon with other players only counts towards the host’s file. At the end of each dungeon, the characters sit in a circle as the mail moogle tells all but the host that there is no mail for them. At the end of each year, the retrospective cutscene shows an almost entirely empty town; the character and his immediate family dance alone. Certain secrets have now been relegated to the single-player experience only, and the minigames you could unlock and play with friends were removed entirely. Towns are also exclusively single-player. The game is no longer a shared multiplayer experience so much as a dungeon-crawler where friends and strangers can jump into dungeons to offer brief help.

This creates a strange two-minded state of play, where I see and remember the vestiges of the game that once was while playing a game that’s in thematic opposition to it. As my character explores Tida Village and sees signs of the population that once lived there, I play this remaster and see leftovers from now-removed game mechanics. It’s a deeply unsettling and alienating experience.

The online isn’t inherently bad, then. It reminds me of FFXIV, where dungeons and bosses are their own separate experiences, removed from the rest of the game. But this online is inherently unsuited to the game it is in. Crystal Chronicles is not FFXIV; the developers put together a system of online play for a different game than the one they were remastering.

It would have been possible to change the game to suit this online system, too! The journal entries for dungeons could have also included the names of players who joined them for those dungeons. The online players could have still received letters, but from the host character’s family, thanking them for keeping their loved one safe. New random encounters could have been added between different online caravans, allowing them to trade items or play minigames with one another. The party at the end of the year could have included the families of randomly selected online companions These changes could have could have given us a synthesis of the old and new, and helped to center the chronicles over the crystals.

Instead, though, we have this incredibly flawed remaster, after almost a year of delays, that serves more as an empty reminder of what the game once was instead of actually allowing us to experience that game, or instead of, god forbid, actually building on that game’s premises and promises. I’m still enjoying the game a lot, but the experience is hella soured by my knowledge of how the game used to play. I’m not sure how enjoyable this remaster would even be to someone unfamiliar with the original.

This remaster feels like a purposeful nail in the coffin of Crystal Chronicles; an excuse to show that the franchise is no longer a potential seller. Whether that’s its actual intent doesn’t really matter, though, since I fear that will be its ultimate effect either way.

[astudyinstandingstill]

* 02. regret is the only diagnosis, but there’s no cure.

Kova spent many days bathing in the aftermath of her mother’s death beneath the covers of the bed she shared with her sister. Most nights, she found herself unable to sleep, haunted by the ghost of everything Katherine used to be, the smell of her hair lingering betwixt the walls long after her departure. Her mother died a hero, and it humbled her. With Katherine’s death came the crushing realization that Kova was left with a legacy no average person could fulfill — and, to her, she was the most average of all. She wasn’t particularly strong, and  her powers were wild and uncontrollable, to the point where she could barely use them, and Kova wasn’t born with the fighting spirit that her mother was.

Sometimes, when she was alone, she’d muse over the idea of Vinnea being Katherine’s daughter instead. She was born with that fire, that spark, that Kova believed she would never possess. Perhaps Vinnea wasn’t born with it — maybe it was etched into her soul by the tragedy of her life. Regardless, it was something Vinnea had that Kova did not, and she found herself growing jealous of how much more like Katherine her sister was then her. The jealousy wasn’t malicious in nature — in fact, Kova admired her sister as much as she envied her, and it made her strive for perfection. She spent most of her days after waking practicing her abilities in Orion’s atelier, and with each passing day Kova saw improvement. For what she lacked in control, she made up for in momentum and stamina. Longevity came naturally to her.

When Kova would practice, her mind would often wander to the Cleansing. It was a dark spot in the kingdom’s history, one many prefer to gloss over. She tended to think about that particular point in their antiquity a lot, due to her sister’s involvement. It was incredible to her that a man as simple as Dionys, no greater a man than her father or Caito, could organize the ritualistic abolition of an entire group of people. Some speculate that he was threatened by the Nymphs’ power — that their ability to control every element gave them a leg up on the rest of society.

Kova witnessed that power firsthand with Vinnea almost every day. While she was particularly skilled at utilizing the wind, the fact that she could still harness the power of fire, water, and earth made her an immensely competent fighter. Kova would often come away from their sparring sessions with burns, or lashes from her quick, well-timed bursts of air, or bruises from where the rocks she’d kick up would graze Kova’s skin. When she was younger, Kova thought that fighting a legitimate fight with her sister would surely end in her death. She could always tell that Vinnea was holding back. A part of her was grateful, but only afterwards, when she’d be nursing herself back to health. During the fight, however, Kova would just find herself stewing in her on anger. She was angry that she had to learn how to fight in the first place, angry that she was no good at it, and, above all else, angry that not even her own sister thought she was good enough to really put the effort into besting her. Kova would give it her all each time, and each time she would lose. In the end, it didn’t matter how quick she was, or how long she could hold out — all that mattered was that Kova was not in control of her magick, and Vinnea was. Control seemed to be the only thing that mattered.

Kova became obsessed with this idea of control — gaining it, maintaining it. The only comfort she had in those days were what she had always known: routine. She walked the same paths every day and spoke to the same people in the hopes that she could find solace in the things that did not change. It was in the spring that even her small comfort of familiarity was stripped from her, prompted by Orion’s confession that she could no longer call the place that she once shared with her two loving parents “home”. Following that, her only coping mechanism was a harrowing apathy. Orion’s explanation funded only a surface understanding of what it all meant for her future.

Katherine had left when Kova was still young and forming memories, so her connections with her had been bathed in a childlike glow of innocence, one that she no longer possessed. She held steadfastly onto those memories, clinging to the way she could hardly recall the little things about Katherine. The fear of forgetting her mother didn’t set in until later that day, when Kova realized she could no longer remember how her voice sounded when she’d see her off for the day.

After the night of Orion’s confession, her sleep troubles only continued. Her sister and her slept together for the majority of our childhood, so she rarely had the experience of waking up alone. However, there’s a morning Kova remembered vividly, in which she awoke to an empty bed, the sun shining through the curtains and casting an ephemeral glow across the room. Kova rose slowly, her hair cascading around her face, a few strands falling into my eyes. She swiped at them, her fingers producing a clear, wet substance. Upon further inspection, she realized they were tears and hurriedly dug her fingers into the corners of her eyes to be rid of them rest of them. At that point, it had been a natural occurrence for Kova to cry in her sleep. At first, the tears were due to nightmares. She would awaken in a panic, the physical manifestation of her distress burrowing into every orifice it passed, causing her to choke on the taste of salt and her own horrified screams. Orion would hold her, then, much to Vinnea’s dismay, who would waddle into their father’s room for some peace and quiet. However, Vinnea would always be right back in bed with me come morning, no matter what time Kova woke up.

The morning she wasn’t, though, Kova found herself staring at the wall for a few moments, blinking the lingering exhaustion from her eyes slowly. It wasn’t until an obscenely long time had passed that she realized Vinnea was nowhere to be found. In a haze, she checked every cranny she could imagine her sister fitting her lanky body into with to no avail.

After she had combed every inch of the house, she moved her search outside. When Vinnea needed some alone time, Kova would often find her at the village’s edge, brushing up on her tracking skills or making mock traps. She figured this is where she’d find her now, but instead of going to her usual spots, something told Kova that she should focus her efforts elsewhere — somewhere more familiar to her. Before she knew it, the young girl’s feet were carrying her to the woods. To the only direct line to the Isles de Gaia, an unclaimed territory that used to house the Nymphs as a place of refuge. The same place Vinnea ended up when her parents sent her away.

Sure enough, that’s where she was, circumspectly inspecting a tree stump, as if determining whatever she was studying so hard would lead her to buried treasure. Kova stood behind her quietly with the knowledge that Vinnea knew she was there, but after a while the silence grew too large for Kova to manage, and she kicked the stump playfully. Though it wasn’t very hard, the kick managed to jostle it free from it’s position in the ground, if only for a second. “What are you doing?”

Vinnea peeked up at Kova, seemingly annoyed to be disturbed. “Checking out how old this tree was when it got chopped,” she muttered, keeping her eyes focused on the stump. “If the foundation is compromised, I won’t be able to lay any solid traps.”

“What compromises the foundation?” Kova asked, tilting her head.

“Stupid things.” A pause. “Like kicking it out of the ground.”

Kova stayed silent after that. It was obvious her presence was just a distraction, but she enjoyed watching Vinnea work — it was like peering into another life, and though it was filled with struggle and uncertainty, it wasn’t her own, and Kova appreciated the momentary relief she felt from witnessing how a person could survive a truly life-altering, horrible event. She spent the next few minutes thinking about what it must’ve been like to be five years old, unaware of where you came from or how you got to where you are, but still being forced to survive on your own. At least Kova had her father, and would always have him. Even when he was gone, the memory of Orion and his love would remain. All Vinnea had were flashes of a happy childhood, ones that she was reluctant to share with her sister. After all, those were the only things she could ever really call her own.

It wasn’t until a little while later that Vinnea finished her project, silently wiping her hands on her pants to rid herself of the shavings and dirt that accumulated. Still kneeling, she looked up at Kova, just to see her face. She could tell that Vinnea didn’t really want to talk, so she didn’t force it on her, but Kova still smiled, just to let her know that it was okay. To her surprise, however, Vinnea actually spoke. It was quiet, almost broken. “What do you think it’ll be like in Ciraesan?”

It was the first time they’d spoken of the move since Orion announced it a couple months before. It was only a few days away, and their stuff was packed almost completely into neat bags. The only thing that wasn’t packed was Vinnea’s stuff, which was far and few between. Kova shrugged, unsure of how to answer. She hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t know.” Her reply was succinct and truthful. Kova had ideas. She thought Cireasan would be scary and unforgiving, but also filled with magic and wonder. She had come to terms with the fact that maybe, somehow, this change would be good. A blank slate might’ve been exactly what she needed — to go somewhere she wasn’t known as the girl who sat by the fountain. “As long as I have you and dad, I’ll be okay. I know that.”

“But what if you didn’t have me?” Vinnea asked, following a brief pause. Kova’s brow furrowed. Vinnea was prone to hypotheticals, mostly born of her own idled curiosity and morbid enjoyment of the worst-case-scenario, but this didn’t feel like that.

“What do you mean?”

“What if he doesn’t want me to come?”

A handful of things began to make sense. Notably so, the reason that Vinnea was so hesitant. The only person who was more unsure of their future than Kova was in that very moment was her sister, who didn’t even have the comfort of looking back on her past with the fondness that Kova could. At the end of the day, Kova knew where she came from. In the world that they lived in back then, where you came from was all that mattered. Your family’s legacy was something used to read you and what you were capable of like a map. Where you came from dictated where you were going. In the eyes of everyone besides Orion and Kova, Vinnea came from nothing and was going nowhere.

Kova sat down beside her sister, crossing her legs and resting her weight on her butt. Vinnea was having trouble meeting her sister’s gaze after brazenly revealing the chink in her rusted armor. Kova placed her had on the small of Vinnea’s back, applying just enough pressure to be comforting, but not to push her off balance and cause her to tumble from her knelt position. “You’re my sister. Of course he’d want you to come. Why wouldn’t he?”

Kova didn’t realize until later, when her soul burned so bright the experiences held within it burst into view all at once, that this did nothing to assuage her sister’s fears. Looking back, Kova felt she had all the time in the world to recognize that she wasn’t giving Vinnea what she needed. I always thought it interesting how Kova could understand more about her life in the single moment of her transcendence into godliness than she did in her whole life.

Vinnea shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not his real daughter. Maybe it’s just time for me to move on.” A pause. Kova didn’t know how to argue with her. In Vinnea’s mind, blood was thicker than water, and she feared the boat that would take them to Ciraesan would not be able to carry her added weight across the sea. Vinnea had always been awful at distinguishing between the weight of what she’d been through and her own, however, and she was much lighter than she thought. So light that, sometimes, when the stars would align just right, and the vibrations of the universe all synced up into a roaring symphony, Kova felt like she was walking on air when she was with her.

Kova scooted closer to her sister. “Don’t talk like that.” Vinnea wouldn’t lift her gaze, so the other stood and shifted so that she’d be in front of her. Though her sister was staring down at her feet, Kova leaned in closer to her face from above. “I can’t lose you, too. I’d never let them leave you behind. Not again.”

Vinnea chuckled, but it sounded more like a sigh. “I know. It’s just . . . if you left, it’d be just me.” There was a moment between them, when Vinnea finally cast her gaze to the trap she’d just constructed. “And this stupid stump.”

Kova let out a little laugh and extended her hands to help her sister up. “I don’t think dad’ll let us bring this thing along.” Her lips curved into a smile as Vinnea grabbed her hands and used her as an anchor to pull herself to her feet. “It looks like someone kicked it pretty hard.”

Vinnea dusted herself off and gestured with her head back to the house. “Yeah, it’s kinda ugly, anyway. Just like you.” She playfully punched her sister’s arm. “Let’s get back. Our stuff is still all over the room. Orion’s gonna have a fit.”

Kova quickened her step so they were side-by-side and threw her arm around Vinnea. “He’ll live,” she almost bellowed, the half smirk expanding across her face as the sound of Vinnea’s satisfied footfall echoing through the woods became etched into both their minds as the birthplace of their golden years.

Though there was a springtime chill in the air, the warmth in Kova’s heart provided enough refuge for the both of them.

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

Loki x f!Reader  -  1921 words  -  Part 6 of 10

Warnings: None

Notes:  This is a longer story, new parts every Wednesday and Sunday, let me know what you think!

Summary: Immediately following the previous chapter, the Bastard Queen and Loki confront the feelings and changes in their relationship, and later the princess receives a letter from her Aunt that changes everything.

Tags: @dragonrosegardens @kybaeza​

You woke up slowly, the silk sheets tempting you to keep you eyes closed for just one more minute. You blinked the sleep from your eyes only to see you were alone in the bed, which wasn’t yours. You disentangled the sheet from around you legs, and slowly sat up pulling it over your exposed body.

The room was beautiful, the walls a dark wood carved with ornate spells and symbols, the arches into antechambers hung with gauzy drapes offering the illusion of privacy, books and scrolls littered the tables and shelves as if they might be needed at any moment as dictated by a mind that thought incredibly fast.

Loki lay reclined on a lounge chair in the corner, paging through a worn book. His dark hair was messy and you noticed little love bites over his neck, and scratches down his arms standing in contrast with his pristine pale skin. They made you blush, wondering if your skin was decorated and dotted under the sheet. You let yourself appreciate the loose robe, it’s black and gold threaded fabric sliding down his arms, the cord barely tied around his waist.

“Is the view to your liking pet?”

He spoke without looking up from his book. The brazen words sending a blush over our body, persuading you to pull the sheet under your chin.

“It leaves something to be desired,” you retorted playfully.

Loki closed the book and laughed upon seeing you, “really? Darling, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” For a second you contemplated throwing something at him- but elected instead to drop the sheet from around your neck, and slowly stand to stretch languidly.  Loki audibly inhaled, and you felt his cool gaze tracing every swell and curve of your body- unable to look away. He swore, “woman you’re killing me.”

You laughed deeply, and winked at him, “please, you’d know if I was killing you.”

He stiffened, and nodded slowly, “I don’t doubt that.” Loki’s voice held a twinge of sobriety, one that moved him to toss you an old tunic of his.  

You smiled at the soft scents of lavender and smoke that clung to the olive colored fabric. You tugged the tunic on and crossed to sit with him.

“I meant to thank you for the ritual,” your voice was soft and unsure, “the lavender is sacred to my family...I-“ your voice fades away into a weighted silence, wondering how exactly to thank his kindness when he’d shown you the depth behind it. In what words could you thank his adoration, his foresight and consideration?

“Don’t make a fool of yourself,” he glared at you, “what do I care for your rituals.” The words were hollow, lacking the desired venom. He did not know the words to say he had to- he didn’t know how to perfectly say that to neglect your ritual betrothal would be neglecting the possibility of your affections. The concepts were foreign to him, not one to be so quickly and fully smitten.

You felt the weight of all the things neither of you could conjure into words, and suddenly felt exposed as if your soul was laid bare in front of you for all to judge. But here in his room, it didn’t matter what he saw in your soul. Loki felt for you freely and without pretenses, completely at face value. He saw all your bloody desires, your immense power for what they were, and loved you for it.

Shakily you took his hand in yours, “can  you teach me that spell...”

“Why?”

“Because, I don’t think you’d believe me any other way.”

Before he could ask what was beyond his belief you  gently pressed your lips against his. For a second you both froze, before deepening the kiss. It was slow and thorough, the only way to hint your growing affections without magic.

The kiss caught Loki off guard, unsure of your reasons. He could understand your attraction, he could understand the leverage he would provide to your cause, yet your direct tenderness felt like a dirty trick- one too soon to really consider.

You felt his body freeze with tension and knew he was debating your intentions as you had the night before.

“Please, teach me so you can know how I see you.” You said softly, your mind lingering over how he puzzled you in a thousand different ways, each fascinating and equally as powerful and bloody as yours. You thought Loki was like the stars, thousands of conflicting and competing parts all stitched together in one delightful brocade within the dark night sky. He drew your attention as a magnet, demanding your desires and dreams since your arrival, the errant thoughts of his dark hair, and strong arms plaguing your desires. And yet he felt more like yourself than you did displaced from your heritage.

When he didn’t respond or meet your eyes you teased to try and lighten the mood, “What my lord— now you’ve got me to bed shall you refuse my affections?”

“How could I refuse you?” He said, voice breaking over the syllables. “I didn’t ask for this, I was fine with being hated- I resented my father’s idea that a wife would gain me favor. But I cannot suffer your presence any longer! Not when you shine so brightly it feels like the moon has taken residence behind my eyes.”

You almost berated him for placing his struggles on your shoulders as if you were responsible for his inner turmoil, yet as he met your eyes the thought died.

“Have you cursed me, my love?” He said eyes stormy and forlorn, “Tell me in what manner you’ve bewitched me and I’ll hold you here no more.” Loki was tempted to chew his lip nervously, anticipating some trick of fate. Always believing the world against him, Loki maintained his strength and the mentality he had wronged none, but was wronged by all.

Your heart ached with his implications. You knew the tales of his failed conquests in other realms, for the throne. You knew how he returned changed yet, here he sat so wounded by himself and those around him that nothing ever seemed quite real.

“I’ve cast no spell.”

“Then I haven’t the strength to refuse you any longer.”

In a moment he’d wrapped you back within his arms as if tangled together nothing in either of your worlds could interfere. You tried to think of those words, their implications of such deep and familiar anger and sorrow- but found yourself lost within a kiss. His hands softly roamed your body, ghosting over your skin agonizingly thorough in their reverent exploration. In that kiss you knew whether here or restored to your kingdom there would be lifetimes for you to puzzle through his mind. He pulled you onto his lap, clutching to you desperately as if a gust of wind might blow you away. You melted against him letting your fingers run through his hair, each kiss linking you both closer in body and soul.

Hours later you snuck back into your own chambers set on dressing up before returning to your lover. Your servants were all alight with your return and your disheveled appearance inspired the most irreverent gossip. Impatient with their prattling and constant observance you sent them away, even refusing Halla’s attempts at drawing your bath.

Your head ached divided over how to proceed without disgracing you’re mother’s legacy, surrendering your kingdom, or leaving your newfound companion. Finally alone you slipped into the large tub, the hot waters turning your skin pink while instantly soothing the tension in your shoulders. You ran your hands over your body, remembering every touch, committing every bruise and bite to memory glowing with pride knowing his body was similarly marked. Within the back of your mind you kneel how proudly he’d wear each purple bite, secure enough to project to whom he exactly belonged. You grinned unconsciously knowing you too would dress and relish every snippet of gossip that would be told of your marked skin, and how brazenly you’d been claimed.

As the waters cooled Halla returned to help you into a robe, her mind aghast at the various marks scattered across your body. Knowing the link between you, she grasped your hands in her’s— her mind begging you to cover up. She wisely still feared the power of gossip. She implored you to at least wear a shawl- they were just starting to associate you with your mother's legacy. It would be unconscionable to lose that progress in light of your father's new transgressions.

By the time she’d pulled your dress over your arms, and tied it's laces, your silent conversation stood halted as you asked, “to what new transgressions are you referring?”

Halla’s eyes grew wide, unwilling to divulge anything from her own mind. Hesitantly she withdrew a letter from her apron. It's seal was your Aunt's. She had a daughter your age, and wouldn't risk her life to support your claim while living under your father's roof.

My niece,

I've received word from those still loyal to you- our rightful Queen. Your father quickly works through servants, many of them are fortunate and the guards get to them first...others are worked tirelessly until they collapse and the king no longer has use of them. Dozens of faithful servants to the crown have been executed for less in your absence, Without servants he's started demanding tributes from each family: one child to replace a dozen workers. His army is composed of unskilled men, many who have fallen in battle against their own brothers. Those who refuse to fight each other, or offer up their children are unable to leave. He has men patrolling our borders, and has enforced a heavy tax on all thoroughfares.To survive many stay and obey- but with the rainy season approaching there aren't enough people to harvest the fields. All will be destroyed, many will starve. If action isn't taken you won't have a kingdom to return to.

The blood in your veins boiled with each hastily scrawled word. You didn't have your mother's skill or power. Your only option was a rather simple protection spell, accompanied with prayer. The anger within you snarled and clawed for violence-reminding you of the power within your own blood. you were not a practitioner of blood magick but had read and seen the power that could manifest from it. That magick came with a price, one you might never understand. But what choice was there when your people were starved, beaten, and murdered?

Halla was called into one of the antechambers while you gathered supplies. You arranged three black candles around you for power, nettle to stick, and rue to leach away life. You placed the leaves in a ceramic dish and willed them to spark on fire. You felt your heart skip as you pricked your finger and let the tiny drops fall into the flame. You knelt silently among the now lit candles, resting your palms upwards on your knees. Silently you prayed and cast your spell.

Almost instantly your strength began to wan, and you felt the energy leave your body and into the spell. To finish the spell you slowly turned your palms over and laid them on the floor, extinguishing the candles. You swept the ashes from the dish into a vial and whispered for Halla to help you stand. She hesitated, frightened by your sudden pallor, before shakily helping you into bed.

[otapleonehalf]

The Princess Knight Anime, Gender and Disappointment

The 1967 Princess Knight anime is an adaptation of Osamu Tezuka’s second rendition of the manga Princess Knight. While the anime’s plot diverges from its source material, the premise remains the same: To inherit the throne of Silverland, the princess has been raised and presented to the public as a prince. Only her close family and servants know she is really a girl. However, the evil Duke Duralumin seeks to reveal the secret of the “prince”, so that his son can claim the throne instead.

Princess Knight is falsely acclaimed by many as the first shoujo manga. As academic Deborah Shamoon puts it, “to single out Tezuka alone is to ignore the work of many other artists in the 1950s and 1960s who created manga for girls such as Takahashi Makoto whose visual style is much closer to subsequent trends in shoujo manga than Tezuka’s.”

Indeed, the original Princess Knight manga shares little resemblance to modern shoujo manga, beyond the fact that it features a female lead in a fairytale setting. To solely credit Tezuka with the beginnings of shoujo manga is to commit an injustice to Junichi Nakahara, Rune Naito, the aforementioned Takahashi Makoto and many other artists whose influence on the modern shoujo genre is more direct than that of Tezuka’s. Thus, it is much more practical to examine Princess Knight as a work from the God of Manga, rather than as a precursor to any modern genres.

Another common misconception about the Princess Knight franchise is that the anime is actually about the titular character. True enough the story follows Prince(ss) Knight, as she is referred to in the English dub of the anime. (From here forth, I will be referring to her as Sapphire, name she is given in the manga.)  However, Sapphire isn’t always the focus of what’s going on and, as I will address later, her character lacks the depth one might expect. Her limelight is frequently stolen by various villains as well as her cherubic sidekick, referred to as Choppy in the English dub.

Choppy, a genital-less angel in Robin Hood attire, stars in both the opening and the ending theme of the series and has entire episodes dedicated to his antics. He serves as the child companion character, found throughout many of Tezuka’s works. (And he is just as annoying and creepy as his fellow munchkins.) Believe it or not, Choppy is crucial to the plot of Princess Knight.

The real reason behind Sapphire’s boyish mannerisms is due to Choppy causing a mix up when the princess was born. Instead of receiving a red heart meant for girls, Sapphire received an additional blue heart meant for boys. Thus, implying her masculine behavior isn’t solely a matter of nurture, but an accident on the part of heaven. Tezuka’s attempt at explaining gender with a color-coded binary, bestowed by a divine patriarch, fails to address the complexities of gender in any meaningful way.

Gender refers to the internalized social expectations for appearance and behavior that align with the societal roles associated with a person’s perceived sex. Sex is meant to dictate gender and gender is meant to portray sex. But by virtue of being comprised of two-dimensional lines, the characters of Princess Knight have no biological sex from which to derive their gender. Anime characters are described by scholar Susan Napier as “stateless” and while Napier uses this word to describe characters’ lack of national identity, I believe the same idea can be applied to describe characters’ lack of biological sex.

It is through suspension of disbelief that we believe drawings represent human beings and all the biological fanfare that comes with being human, when in reality anime characters are effectively “stateless” in regards to sex and all other genetic states. Anime characters must be portrayed performing a gender that implies their sex or have their canonical sex outright stated, else the audience is left to speculate. With no state to tether to the concept of gender, the anime characters of Princess Knight dismiss human biology almost entirely. Princess Knight makes no real attempt to suspend the audience’s disbelief that its characters have realistic biological qualities to begin with.

Aside from Sapphire being born from her mother, there are no allusions to biological sex in the series. Keeping in mind that this is a program made for television in the 1960s, Duke Duralumin cannot publicly strip Sapphire to reveal her secret to all of Silverland and the families watching at home. By extension, he cannot use the sound of her voice, her measurements, or her theoretical period as evidence against her claim to the throne. (After all this wouldn’t be a very long anime if all it took for Duralumin’s plans to succeed was a single pair of bloody tights.)

So instead of the more obvious routes for determining if Sapphire is a girl or boy, the villains of the series use more roundabout methods such as asking the opinions of ghosts and magic mirrors. There’s also things like magic pens that would make Sapphire write down that she is really a girl as well as a topical cream that turns blue when it touches a boy. Through these creative methods, Tezuka consistently portrays gender as something supernatural rather than something sociological.

If we step away from Tezuka’s interpretation of gender and instead use a more contemporary understanding of gender such as that popularized by feminist philosophers like Judith Butler, we can gain a better understanding of Sapphire’s character.

Our genders are not innate. They are the result of how we have learned to habitually react to our social environments. The gender we develop over time then informs our identities which serve to reinforce our habitual behavior. When gender is “performed” it is not a conscious act where everyone within proximity is aware of the façade. Gender is a constant series of small behaviors that are meant to go unnoticed and if ever noticed, be dismissed as inherent qualities inseparable from our sense of self, rather than the result of the rigorous teachings we absorb from birth through socialization.

Due to her circumstances Sapphire learned to present herself as either a boy or a girl depending on who she is around. She has developed two behavioral personas of conflicting gender: the Princess whom is known within the walls of the palace, and the Prince whom is shown to the outside world. When interacting with anyone outside of her private circle, Sapphire wears tights, a large brimmed hat, carries a sword and is read as masculine. (It’s important to recognize that attributes associated with any gender are highly dependent on societal context. Silverland’s setting is inspired by Medieval Europe and so within that context it’s understood that Sapphire’s daily attire is to be read as masculine within her society, even though her lack of pants and flamboyant hat would be read as feminine in a modern American context.)

While presenting her persona of the Prince to the outside world, sapphire is never unsure of her true status as a girl. She simply portrays a boy as necessity dictates, like many real-life women have had to do throughout history. It is because of her identity as a girl that Sapphire is so desperately committed to convincing others of the Prince’s masculinity. As the Prince she cannot brush off accusations of being unmanly, for they could raise suspicions and endanger her secret and by extension her kingdom. When fearful her secret could be discovered, and her country’s future could be at risk, she consciously attempts to act manlier. She competes in sports, challenges adult men to duels, and even starts bar fights in order to prove that she can perform feats that girls cannot. (Because obviously girls aren’t capable of any of those things, or at least those are things girls are not expected to do in Sapphire’s society.) It’s Sapphire’s ambition and rowdiness that successfully keep suspicion of her girlhood at bay. But by repeatedly performing the act of the Prince, Sapphire internalizes the masculine behaviors she puts on and they become a part of personality.

Ironically, Sapphire’s feats of toughness only prove to the audience that a girl can indeed do all the things she claims to others are proof that she must be a boy to her fellow countrymen. However, Sapphire’s accomplishments do nothing to challenge perceptions of women as it’s made clear to the audience that Sapphire is a very special exception and not the rule.

All the other women portrayed in the series fall neatly into the categories of: wicked witches, wise mothers, or daddy’s girls. For example, the characters of Queen Icicle, Sapphire’s mother and Zenda embody each of these categories respectively. These stereotype-based character’s do nothing to convince the audience that femininity has the capacity for competence. This unfortunate lack of depth to Princess Knight’s female characters even extends to Sapphire when she embodies her private persona of the Princess known within the palace walls as Princess Knight in the English dub.

In a hidden chamber connected to her bedroom is a wardrobe of wigs and dresses that Sapphire dresses up in when no one is around. In the anime, this hidden wardrobe is treated as an infatuation of Sapphire’s. Her servants grieve for Sapphire’s situation, wishing she could be a princess all the time, implying that Sapphire’s performance of femininity in the secret chamber is somehow a persona closer to her true self. It’s apparent that the servant’s view on Sapphire’s inner desires is shared by Tezuka himself. Tezuka wants the audience to pity a girl that has responsibilities beyond playing dress up, and that a girl who cannot be a princess destined to marry a prince is one allotted a cruel fate.

When Sapphire takes on her persona of the Princess all her personality traits fade to emphasize her beauty. As a Prince Sapphire doesn’t qualify as beautiful, but after quickly changing into a dress and a wig, she is suddenly beautiful enough to make a foreign prince, by the name of Prince Frank in the English dub, fall in love with her during a Cinderella-esque night of dancing.

Prince Frank only falls for Sapphire once he perceives her as a girl. When he initially meets her as the Prince of Silverland the two share a rivalry where they compete with one another as equals. When Frank perceives Sapphire as a boy he fights alongside her or tries to outdo her, but once he perceives Sapphire as a girl he becomes smitten and goes out of his way to discourage Sapphire from attending the battlefield, even when her own country in on the line. As her love interest, Prince Frank compliments Sapphire’s good looks above any other quality.

In a Snow White inspired episode, the mirror on the wall deems Sapphire’s Princess Persona the fairest of them all, emphasizing that Sapphire’s sole accomplishment as the Princess is her beauty. A shallow and stereotypical beauty, which is dependent on her state of dress and the opinion of those around her. What’s more, Sapphire’s beauty is purely due to her status as the heroine. Being a character on the side of good, Sapphire is spared of any imperfections that are found on the faces of the series’ various villainesses. Sapphire’s Princess persona is defined as a character solely by her looks, despite her literally being the same person and having the same face as Silverland’s Prince.

The audience is meant to sympathize more with Sapphire because she has the two traits deemed most desirable in women by patriarchal society, young and attractive. (Unfortunately, ugly female protagonists in anime are all too rare.) One of the most common mistakes made by men writing female characters is that they can forget women have their own perspective from which they look at things, as opposed to their existence revolving around being looked at.

At the halfway point of the series, Silverland’s sexist laws regarding the inheritance of the throne are changed and Sapphire’s secret is revealed to the public with no consequence. Once her secret is out, the show drops the surrounding conflict, and Sapphire finally represents a non-traditional take on gender within her own society, at least in appearances. Sapphire no longer must pretend to be a boy and begins to go by the title Princess full time, yet she doesn’t change her daily attire. When venturing into foreign countries where her reputation doesn’t precede her, she is still referred to as a boy. She doesn’t correct those around her, perhaps out of habit. But as for Sapphire’s masculine behavior, particularly her acts of heroism in combat, she finds a new persona to replace the Prince.

The Phantom Knight is a masked swordsman Sapphire developed in order to outwit a villain’s scheme. But even after the Phantom Knight is no longer needed, Sapphire continues to dress up and fight as him. Instead of consistently defying the sexism she encounters Princess Knight will humbly obey her orders to leave the battlefield on account of the fact that she is a girl and the Phantom Knight will miraculously appear to fight in her place. Indeed, Sapphire finds a type of individual freedom in seamlessly slipping from one persona to another to best fit her purposes without causing upset, but this does nothing to actually liberate Sapphire from her obligation to keep parts of herself a secret from everyone around her.

It’s no longer her country’s throne on the line but her reputation as a girl who upholds the role given to her. Sapphire’s clandestine heroism as the Phantom Knight is an outlet for when she doesn’t want to accept the social constraints of being perceived as a girl, but it’s not a remedy for the narrowminded people around her responsible for those constraints.

Sapphire continues to masquerade as a boy with the only real difference being that her two genders have traded spaces. She now presents her girl persona to the public and keeps her boy persona to herself. The Phantom Knight takes on the burdens of adventure, combat, justice and heroism so that Princess Knight can tend to her romance with Prince Frank, which she can freely pursue now that she’s perceived as a girl in the public eye. And as Sapphire displayed so adamantly in the first half of the series, girls are incapable of feats performed by a man such as the Phantom Knight.

With her new secret identity, Sapphire’s gendered personas are more cleanly split than before, and traditional depictions of gender are never really challenged by Sapphire or the series as a whole. After all, what Tezuka wants for Sapphire is not for her to have a secret identity or to lead the life of a prince/knight, but for her to ultimately take on the traditional goal of womanhood, marriage.

At the end of the series the final fight for Silverland’s future becomes dependent on a magic axe. Even during the most critical point of saving Silverland, when Sapphire is to use the axe to save her country, Prince Frank tries to take the weapon away from her as he deems it unfit for a girl to handle. Sapphire must take it back by force before she can run off and save her kingdom. Once the conflict is over, Choppy takes Sapphire’s blue boy heart with him as he returns to heaven. With her canonical source of masculine behavior gone, Sapphire marries Prince Frank. It’s heavily implied that she never takes on the persona of the Phantom Knight now that her country is at peace.

While the audience is supposed to be happy for Sapphire who has found love and can finally live the fantasy once confined to a secret chamber in the palace, it feels more like Tezuka has only made Sapphire finally submit to a traditional female gender role he always intended her for. Sapphire’s conservative ending is actually the second of the anime. It closely follows the solution to Zenda’s character.

Zenda is the daughter of Satan who after daring to show kindness toward a human boy, Zenda is punished and placed in an irreversible situation where she has lost all magical powers, cannot return to her family nor live on her own. The last we see of Zenda is her walking off in to the distance with a boy she barely knows. Sapphire’s and Zenda’s fates where they must trade power for a male partner parallel each other and make for a dissatisfying, if not depressing, ending to series.

Again, Princess Knight ultimately exemplifies a very simple view of gender, where once Sapphire trades her sword for a bouquet, all her stereotypical qualities of masculinity are discarded and the act of doing so is easy and magical.

It feels odd to compare Princess Knight, with its cliché fairytale wedding as its finale and ultimate lack of commentary on gender, to other manga and anime that properly tackle the complexities of crossdressing and gender. One such series that delves into gender as one of its main themes and is frequently brought up in conversations about Princess Knight is Rose of Versailles. The comparisons between these two specific series often feel misguided since Prince Knight is much less a story about crossdressing and gender performance as it is a story that happens to include those things. And yet many people not only compare Princess Knight to Rose of Versailles but even go as far to claim Princess Knight to be Rose of Versailles’ spiritual predecessor. This claim is most likely due to the similarities these two works share in their premises. In Rose of Versailles, the Commander of the Royal Guards fails to produce a male heir, so he decides to give his daughter the name Oscar and raise her as a boy.

Beyond their initial setups, the two series have little else in common. Oscar’s sex is not kept a secret. She was raised as a man, acts as a man, but is still indeed a woman. So all of Oscar’s accomplishments are as a woman, thus bending the gender expectations assigned to women, and ultimately defying the limitations placed on women by their social role in 18th century France. When it comes to Oscar’s masculine behaviors, Rose of Versailles argues nurture as the source while Princess Knight canonically argues nature.

Sapphire does not take on adventures and face danger because she was raised as a prince but because she was mistakenly given the heart of a boy. Tezuka’s simplistic approach to Sapphire’s identity means that her gender, despite being the crux of the story, it isn’t very crucial to Sapphire’s character. In a story like Rose of Versailles, swapping the protagonist’s gender would change the story entirely. But in Princess Knight, you could change the storyline to be about a male prince who happens to like dressing as a girl, but the secret could shame him out of the throne and the plot would play virtually the same. Sapphire doesn’t defy gender roles the way Oscar does. Sapphire is merely trying to uphold two roles at the same time.

As previously mentioned there is a distinct lack of sex and by extension sexuality in Princess Knight. Sapphire’s struggle with gender is never sexual. Where as in Rose of Versailles Oscar’s troubled relationships are dripping with sexual tension. Part of this is because Oscar’s struggle with gender is an internal one. She must struggle with her own self-image and how that image will affect the relationships she wants and the duties she must uphold. But Sapphire’s struggles in the Princess Knight anime are almost completely external. She only fears her secret being outed because of the threat of external backlash that’s presumed to follow. Sapphire is never unsure of who she is and what she wants, she just has to wait for the right time to reveal such things. Much like crediting Princess Knight as the first shoujo, crediting it as the spiritual predecessor to Rose a Versailles is a stretch at best.

Overall, I believe Princess Knight’s reputation over-hypes the anime series. I don’t think Princess Knight is a good introduction to Tezuka’s work, it’s certainly not his best, and I don’t think its aged very well to boot. (I think Black Jack in any of its iterations is a better place to start for those uninitiated to the God of Manga.)

The Princess Knight anime covers little new ground in its storytelling, especially when it comes to depictions of gender. Almost every episode’s premise is directed lifted from a classic fairytale and its conservation ending does nothing to challenge to audience’s nor society’s expectation for Sapphire as a female character conceived in the 1950s. Thankfully the decades that followed produced better anime with more to bite into when it comes to gender such as Rose of Versailles, Revolutionary Girl Utena, Ouran High School Host Club to name a few. Rather than looking backwards to Princess Knight’s depictions of gender and women, we should look forwards to the improved representations that have and will continue to be created as the landscape around such topics expands and deepens.

[mintchocolateleaves]

Black Feather (2/?)

Summary:  Kuroba Kaito has a plan. Find the people responsible for his father’s death, branded within the magic community as a traitor, and make them pay. There’s just some things he needs to do first. (Set in the HP-verse.) Slowburn KaiShin.

Notes: Yes, it seems I’m uploading fics that seemed like they were being forgotten. First delinquent au, now HP au? Oh wow. Many thanks to @bakathief for creating this wonderful au with me!

[Part One]

Dragons.

When he’d been a child, Kaito had been obsessed with them. His father had taken him to see them at mount Fuji once, the only dragon reserve in Japan, back before Kaito had attended wizarding school. There, Kaito had seen the Ukrainian Ironbellies, with their metallic scales reflecting the sun’s light, red eyes staring down at him.

He’d seen a few Antipodean Opaleye’s as well, from where they’d migrated from New Zealand, never really flying back overseas after the winter had ended. Their multicoloured eyes had been beautiful, had stolen his breath, but they’d never been his favourite.

No – Kaito had always loved the Ukrainian Ironbellies the most. Had wanted to breed them, wanted to tame them and spend every passing moment with them as loving friends.

Then his father had been killed, burnt alive by the Japanese ministry in response to his ‘treason’, and Kaito hadn’t been able to bring himself to go near things that could create fire so easily.

“I’ve not been near dragon’s since back then,” Kaito says now, to himself, tapping against his trousers. His voice sounds almost wistful, as if he realises just how much of a shame it is. “I guess we’ll just have to change that then.”

He’ll have to apparate to Mt. Fuji. And make his way up to the reserve. From what quick research he’d managed to do before the Aurors had come to arrest him, the reserve is currently home to roughly forty dragons.

Over half are Ukrainian, the breed that he’s searching for.

Now, he just needs to apparate there, grab a sample of blood without injuring the beasts. Or getting killed in the process. God, Kaito’s already excited at the concept of this. Dragons bring a spark of life to him that leave him feeling giddy.

He just wishes he could find some unknown properties to them that could help him during his heists. Dragon blood, for one, is highly volatile, and he could use it for offensive potions. It’s also got medicinal properties, except no one’s found a way yet to harness it for human biology without it burning people alive.

Well, that’s what experimentation is for, Kaito supposes.

“Okay,” Kaito says, nodding his head. “To Mt. Fuji.”

Apparating isn’t necessarily difficult. Kaito had gotten his license shortly after finishing school, just before he’d gone travelling. The spell isn’t difficult, nor is the wand incantation.

It’s just getting to the right place that’s the issue.

There’s only so far the spell will work, for one. Most transport spells only work within the confines of a single country. Portkeys are necessary for travelling abroad, things that Kaito’s had to pay out a lot of money for during his travels.

Maybe he should invest in a few self-taught lessons on how to make them? It might help him with KID related jobs.

“Stop,” Kaito says to himself. “Dragons first.”

Apparating takes effort to get where one wants to go, mainly because it requires visualising the area that’s required to travel to. Kaito would be able to travel to his family home without an issue, because he can remember the room’s layout, the dimensions of where he wants to go.

But going somewhere he’s never been before? Or worse, somewhere he can hardly remember – a layout that has probably changed since then?

That’s how patients wind up in hospital with splinching injuries from the spell. There’s an element of danger that not everyone is willing to risk. Kaito knows he could just as easily travel through fireplaces, with floo-powder, but that method of transport is a lot more traceable.

Even though his wand will register the fact that he’s travelled somewhere, it won’t be able to direct to anyone who investigates him, where exactly he’s gone.

Which is probably for the best, because people asking him questions about dragons is not something he typically enjoys.

He really needs to hurry up and find some dragons though, because just standing outside of the Japanese ministry of magic is gaining him quite a few looks.

~~~

Mt. Fuji: Realm of dragons.

Kaito is practically breathless as he glances around. Most of the Ironbellies will be inside of the mountain, living in caves that are charmed to go overlooked by those who aren’t looking closely enough.

The Opaleye’s are probably down by the lake nearby the mountain, lapping up water. The dragon tamers that preserve the safety of the sanctuary, use cloaking magic to keep the dragons out of view of those who aren’t wizards. Keeping the dragons safe from those who’re likely to attack that of which they don’t understand.

There are probably alarms fitted around the caves for the Ironbellies, to keep those with harmful intent away from the dragons, but Kaito’s pretty sure he can get through.

His hand reaches in to his pocket, a hidden sleeve obscured by the heaviest illusion spell he’s ever had the pleasure to create, pulling out his second wand.

It’s a taboo, Kaito knows, owning multiple wands. But it’s easier in the long run, with his extracurricular activities, so he doesn’t really fret too much about it.

“Okay,” Kaito says, “let’s send out a quick tracking spell. Revelare.”

He flicks his wrist upwards twice, and then downwards. It sends a small pulse through his wand, and down into the ground, creating small spider’s veins in the earth, blooming outwards in search for any hidden spells.

It reveals two. Both are entries to caves, except at first glance, the one nearest to him is too thin to be the nest of an Ironbelly. No, Kaito’s going to have to go to the next one then, if he wants to produce good results, then he’s just going to have to put in the work.

“Okay,” Kaito says to himself as he looks at the second cave. It’s bigger. The entrance is probably the width of two fully grown dragons. It should make for the perfect nest.

Now, he just needs to search for any alarms.

There are two. The first is easy, just a simple spell measuring the heat that passes across it. Dragons are cold blooded after all, so only mammals – like wizards – will set it off. Kaito applies a small cloaking spell to himself, something that lowers his external temperature enough to go untraced and heads inside.

The moment he is past, Kaito casts a dull Lumos with his Kaito-wand, keeping his KID wand out for use against the second alarm. It’s not something that’s easily seen, and Kaito strains himself to find it, but he does.

It measures the magic of a person – of course it does. Wizards can get past the cloaking spell into the caves if they want, and anyone competent at magic can also use a cloaking spell of their own to get past the heat measures.

But this. A spell recording just how much magic is filled in a person’s blood. It’s going to be high in comparison to a dragon’s, something that’s going to cause alarms to go off.

And trying to cloak the magic? Well, that only causes the introduction of more magic to a person’s surroundings, triggering the alarm even quicker.

Well, Kaito thinks. Maybe there isn’t exactly a way past this alarm. He’s probably just going to have to risk it, and make sure he apparates away before anyone comes looking for him.

That’s alright, he supposes. He just needs to force himself to work quickly. And Kaito’s always been efficient, so he knows he can work that angle. Probably.

Well there’s no problem in trying, right?

Kaito steps past the alarm, wonders how long he’s got to figure things out, and makes his way further into the cave. There are two dragons inside. One older dragon, and one hatchling.

The hatchling is the one which Kaito immediately decides he can go nowhere near. Dragons might not be highly territorial in the same way as Centaurs are, but they are highly protective of their young.

Trying to draw blood from one of their young – even if he’s not harming them – would be like stepping on a live wire, waiting to be ripped apart by a stray reicio spell. No, he’ll have to go to the mother, which, is definitely also risky but not nearly as immediate in its danger.

He heads forward. The older Ironbelly is curled in on itself, a watchful eye glancing between it’s child and towards the end of its tail where there’s-

Fuck. How are people here already? Surely the alarm hadn’t sounded so quickly. Kaito quickly pockets his wands, tries to seem as unassuming as possible.

She looks up at the sound of his footsteps scuffing out.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

The woman pales almost, to see him stood in the middle of a dragon’s nest. Understandable really, most people don’t show up alone to see dragons without the degree of safety the dragon tamers in the reserve can offer.

“Oh,” Kaito says, by way of introduction. “I… seem to have gotten a little lost?”

He receives a look that could not be any more displeased. The woman’s pretty – with bright eyes and an ivory complexion. Her hair is pulled back into ribbons, and she wears the bright, golden robes of a dragon tamer, with shimmering bangles down her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “but I don’t think I believe you. There are alarms to keep people from getting lost in areas like this.”

Kaito takes a few steps nearer, glancing between the woman and the dragon. He meets the Ironbelly’s gaze, watching and waiting for any signs of aggravation. They’re not the most volatile of dragons, but Kaito knows enough about living things to know that they can be cruel on their own volition.

“Right,” Kaito says, “isn’t that why you’re here? Because I set off the alarms?”

She shakes her head, stands from where she’d previously been sat down. “Of course not! I’m just here for th’ maintenance of th’ dragons that have recently had their eggs hatch!”

Dragon eggs? God, Kaito hadn’t thought of the properties of their eggs. If they’ve recently cracked open, then surely, he can grab the shells – Dragon eggs are practically impossible to crack open. The defensive elements that he could gain if he could experiment with the empty shells…

“I see,” Kaito says, and now, he makes his way towards her, offering what he hopes is his most charming smile. “How exactly does a person maintain a dragon?”

He comes to a stop beside her, glancing at the tail of the dragon. Now that he’s nearer, he can see the Ironbelly’s scales are jagged instead of the smooth they should be. It seems almost unnatural.

“When dragons are readyin’ to have their hatchlings,” the woman whispers, “they grow more scales, as a defence tha’ will keep their children safe if attacked by other dragons. But this dragon has laid a lot of eggs this year, an’ has grown too many new scales that it’s causing her pain.”

“So you’re removing the excess dragon scales.” Kaito says. He leans down, and sure enough – there in a small pile, are shimmering scales of metal, things that would cost him thousands to buy in the back alleys of Tokyo’s magic industry.

Here… well, Kaito could just take them, obliviate the woman and no one would ever know.

“Exactly,” she continues, and almost as if she’s not worried by his presence anymore, she lowers back down to the dragon’s tail, wand out, watching the slow flicks of the dragon’s scales with a careful precision that tells Kaito she is good at her job.

“I’m Kaito,” he says, as an introduction, “and I know I shouldn’t be here, but do you mind if I watch?”

Her eyes flick to him for the shortest time, weighing up his sincerity, before she nods. She says, “you can stay until th’ alarms bring someone to escort you out.”

Kaito raises an eyebrow.

“…And I’m Kazuha. Now lemme do my job, okay?”

He nods. And he watches. She brings her wand up, and with a flick, mutters incisura. Kazuha has to use the spell four times on the same scale, before the cuts leave it loose enough for her to pry it out from between the other ragged scales. The dragon lets out a growl.

“She’s just bein’ moody,” Kazuha says, as she places the scale amongst the bucket of others, “because she wants this to be quicker, ya know?”

Kaito nods, although he doesn’t really understand. He’s not spent enough time around them to understand the complexity of a dragon, and so – well, it’s probably best to just take the professional at her word.

“The scales,” Kaito says, “what will you do with them?”

Perhaps it’s too much of a conversation changer, because Kazuha stiffens, caught off guard by his question.

“We dispose of them,” she says once she’s back on balance again. She continues pruning the unhealthy scales, placing them among the others. “Sometimes the apothecaries buy them, but they’ve stopped recently, because there’s not a high enough demand for scales.”

Well, Kaito thinks, now he knows where he could buy some scales.

“Everything has it’s uses,” Kaito says. And then, looking up at the dragon, he lets out a small sigh. “I’d be able to find a use for them at least.”

Kazuha stills. She says, “that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To take advantage of my dragons? To steal from them.”

Oh dear. Kaito seems to have walked straight into that one. He just needs to rework it a little bit.

“You don’t steal from dragons,” he says, reaching forward to brush his fingers against the dragon’s scales. It’s rough enough that it cuts into his hand, leaving a small dribble of blood running down his wrist as he lifts it up. “They only let you take what they have no need for.”

He grabs his wand – his first wand – and mutters the healing spell episkey, to close the small cut. After, with a small wave of his wand, he siphons the blood away with a wordless spell.

“Right,” Kazuha says. “Well, if all you’re here for is dragon scales, then take them and get out.”

“Hey now,” Kaito says, lifting his hands up in surrender, “you said I could watch. I like dragons okay. And as much as I’d like having some scales to experiment with, I’d rather just observe the dragons.”

He does not mention that learning how to gather scales of his own will be much more useful in the long run, than simply taking the scales now and having no idea of how to prune them if he goes looking for wild dragons later.

“I guess I said ya could stay until security came…” Kazuha says, shrugging. “But you do know… it’s the Aurors that escort you out, right? Not our staff?”

Kaito offers a small smile. “Well. That’ll be interesting, I suppose?”

It will not. It most certainly will not be interesting at all. He’d only left the auror’s station behind no less than an hour ago and he’s already going to have them looking at him again.

Oh, the KID half of himself is raging already. Aurors and the ministry are on his ‘things to avoid’ list. Which, quite frankly, is quite short, consisting of only those two things, and merfolk.

“Startin’ to wish you’d taken the scales an’ just gone?” Kazuha asks.

“not yet,” Kaito says, “but I will be when they show up. Probably. Don’t worry about me though, keep going.”

Kazuha grumbles but continues anyway. She has a way with dragons that is almost mystic. Maybe this could have been him, in her place, helping dragons with maintenance and ensuring they remained healthy.

What a shame, that it isn’t.

“Why would you want dragon scales anyway,” Kazuha asks, as she continues removing them. Some of the scales are harder than the others, tougher, requiring five repeats to break away from the others. “There’s not really any use for them.”

Kaito glances at the scales and shrugs his shoulders. A little honesty couldn’t really hurt, could it?

“I’m an inventor,” Kaito says. “I like creating things from seemingly impossible equipment and ingredients.”

Kazuha looks at him. “Create anythin’ interestin’ recently?”

“A spray,” Kaito says, sitting back, “which makes people admit to the truth when asked questions. It was pretty interesting.”

“It was also illegal.”

Oh, Kaito thinks, that’s not Kazuha’s voice. He groans, turns to face the Auror who has made himself known.

Should have expected that Kudo would be the one sent out. The man he’d offered a small wave to before, the dark-skinned Auror stands beside him, glancing towards Kazuha.

“Just because something’s illegal, doesn’t mean it can’t be interesting.” Kaito chirps. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon, Auror Kudo.”

The dark-skinned detective lets out a sigh. “Kuroba Kaito right? You’ve been caught trespassing in one of the restricted areas of the dragon sanctuary without any formal permissions. We’re going to have to take you back to the office for you to sign the relevant paperwork.”

“Oh,” Kaito says. “Can’t you just owl it to me, like you would anyone else?”

He supposes it’s his surname that causes such treatment. And his record of moving from country to country – they probably don’t trust him to stay in one place. Which… is fairly understandable.

“Kuroba,” Kudo says, shaking his head, “this is the second time you’ve been caught doing something illegal, so procedure says we’ve got to take you in for the paperwork.”

Procedure. What a horrid word when used in conjunction with the law.

“This seems horribly unfair,” Kaito says, glancing back at the dragon, “I just came to see some dragons. People usually just get warnings, Auror Kudo. I mean, this hardly seems fair.”

“You left our offices an hour ago!” Kudo sighs, “this is the second time today I’ve caught you doing something you shouldn’t be doing!”

Beside him, Kazuha lets out a small giggle. Kudo’s eyes cut to her, almost scalding, but she doesn’t react to his exasperation. She says, “jeez, you’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

Kaito offers her his brightest smile.

“Just go with ‘em,” Kazuha says, “you can have th’ scales if you do.”

He perks up, smile brightening even more so. It’s not quite the dragon blood he arrived looking for, but it’s a start. And then: “can I have the dragon egg shells as well?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

~~~

[Part Three]

[dictionarywrites]

Brought To Justice: Chapter 4

Odin gives Loki a choice when he is brought back to Asgard: imprisonment, or execution. When Loki chooses the latter, Odin increases his punishment twofold, and Loki is sent back to Midgard in order to repay his debt. Bound by his own magic and forced to obey whatever order Steve Rogers lays out for him, Loki is forced to attempt a redemption he neither wants nor deserves.

Ao3 link. Steve Rogers/Loki. Slowburn. 25k. Rated M. WIP.

Send requests. Tip jar.

June 3rd, 2012

“C’mere,” Tony murmurs, and Pepper leans in, smiling as she leans her hands against the table between them, her breath warm and scented with coffee where she puts her mouth over his. Pepper kisses him, and Tony tastes the caramel shot she took in her drink, cupping her cheek and smiling at her with all the warmth in the world. It’s a great morning, the sun shining brightly in through the window, and in front of him Tony has a spread of folders, all focused on the Avengers Initiative.

SHIELD has been into him today, with Fury talking to him about taking over the Initiative from SHIELD… Fury had been more than reluctant to let Tony just take up the Initiative for the team, but with Steve pushing it through, it’s down to him, now.

And Coulson…

He’d sent flowers to the cellist, offered to fly her in, but she’d said no. Poor girl.

“How’s business?” Tony asks, his hands on Pepper’s hips, and she smiles at him, her lips plump and glossy. She’s using some kind of new stuff – gloss, lipstick, Tony doesn’t know – and it makes her even more beautiful than usual.

“How’s heroism?” she replies, and Tony groans, gesturing to the folders.

“It’s a lot like business.” Pepper laughs, patting his cheek and taking up her own spread of folders, her coffee in her hand. “You got meetings?”

“Until four. How about you?”

“I’m driving out to X-Mansion today, probably gonna take the wunderkind with me. And I think Clint and Nat are coming, too,” Tony murmurs, running his palm over his beard as he thinks about it. Pepper frowns, tilting her head slightly.

“Clint and Nat? Why?”

“I think ‘cause there’s space in the car,” Tony says, and Pepper lets out a short, huffed laugh before he continues, “I dunno. They’re kinda up in the air at the moment – they don’t want to take their normal jobs ‘cause they’re both into the routine of the Avengers thing, I think. Neither of ‘em has ever been part of a team like this one before, and they’re excited to get into it.”

“That’s good,” Pepper says, and Tony nods his head, slowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, it is. I’m just worried about two hours in a car with Loki on one side and them on the other.”

“He’s not going to say anything,” Pepper murmurs, and Tony sighs.

“It’s the silence I’m dreading.” Pepper pats his shoulder, leans and presses a kiss to his head, and then she walks away, running to catch her eight o’clock. Tony sighs, pushing his meeting notes together, and he glances at his phone.

Henry McCoy, 07:25 Mr Stark, you’re new to running a heroes team. Please, don’t worry about the meeting at all – we’ll talk you through it and get you up to speed, and we even have some resources from older iterations of the Avengers. None of us is expecting you to have the whole world planned to the letter.

They’re not expecting to see Loki exactly either, Tony thinks, but hey. Coming from a guy who’s worked on and off with Magneto, Loki almost seems like a walk in the park.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“So you can speak any language, pretty much ever, and read any language, but you can’t sign?” Barton demands, and Loki stares at him from the other side of the limousine. Why, precisely, Stark insisted on this method of travel, Loki is uncertain – it strikes him as mildly obscene, particularly when they’re going to a boarding school of all places, but then, Loki doubts Stark has spent much time in a normal automobile.

“Why would I be able to speak any Midgardian sign languages?” Loki asks, arching his eyebrows. “It’s called the Allspeak, Mr Barton, not the Allsign.” All of them are rather dressed up for this occasion: Romanov wears a black dress that clings to the lines of her waist and chest, accentuating an easy hourglass figure; Stark wears a pressed suit, and Barton wears a purple shirt that has a collar and everything. Loki hadn’t known the man had it in him. Loki himself wears a lilac shirt tucked into white trousers, a floral tie around his neck, and Stark had groaned when he had seen the outfit, but then complimented Loki thrice, so he would guess it’s fine enough.

“Yeah, but if it’s magic—”

“What about languages with clicks and whistles?” Romanov breaks in.

“They translate just fine. Some words don’t, of course – words for specific fruits or vegetables, materials, et cetera. But the Allspeak… It translates the meaning more so than it rewrites the words as I’m hearing them. When I hear any of you speak, I hear English, but the meaning is translated in my own head, I suppose. Which means I can still be aware of connotations, names, et cetera – it’s a sort of telepathic magic. If someone talks about, say, finar in the Fon System, even though I’m not familiar with finar itself, I would get the impression of the scent, the sight, of the grain.”

“If that’s the case, then you should be able to understand sign languages just fine,” Romanov says, slowly. “Loads of languages include gestures as part of them, and if it’s a telepathic element, an impression, then sign language should be no different.”

Loki brings his index finger up to his chin, then brings it outward: True.

Barton nearly yells, burying his face in his hands and letting out a garbled sound of frustration, and when Loki grins, he shows all of his teeth, laughing. Romanov is shaking her head, letting out short chuckles, and Loki glances to Stark. Stark is looking between the three of him, his lips quirked into a smile between his obscene patches of sculpted facial hair.

“You spoke ASL this whole time, huh?”

“It’s called the Allspeak,” Loki says, not unreasonably, and Barton groans incoherently in his direction. Loki had been worried the journey would be much more uncomfortable than it is, but Romanov has been making polite, measured conversation with Loki, and it is Barton that has brought the levity in the situation with his humorous over-reactions.

“Why do you lie?” Barton demands. “There’s no reason to! We don’t speak sign language in front of you anyway, so we wouldn’t risk it – there was nothing to gain! You just, you just lied, for no reason!”

“I didn’t lie for no reason,” Loki replies. “I lied so you could enjoy unravelling my deception. Through logic alone.”

“But that’s— Why that? We could just play a game!” Loki clucks his tongue, disapproving, and Barton looks askance to Romanov, now speechless, but Romanov just smiles, shoving the archer in the side.

“I don’t play games.” Loki leans back in his seat, turning to look at Stark once more, and Stark leans in toward him.

“Here,” he says, holding something out, and Loki takes it, staring down at it. It’s a mobile telephone, much like Stark’s own, and Loki stares down at his reflection in the polished, black glass. “So your cell number is on the card stuck to the back, and this is yours now. It’s charged, and I’ll give you the charger when you’re back at the building – it’s a pretty standard smartphone, texting, calls, internet, camera. I think you should start an Instagram or something.”

“Instagram?” Loki repeats, and he frowns, staring at the screen. “Mr Stark, that hardly seems very secretive.”

“Well, we’re ironing out your paperwork now. Soon, SWORD is gonna give you your alien-on-earth papers, and you’re gonna be a real, fake citizen of the US of A. Besides, Loki,” Stark murmurs quietly, “It’ll look better if you’re… You know. Integrating. It’s great to do like, Wikipedia stuff—”

“So many of the articles are so badly written—”

“It’s a community encyclopaedia, your highness, I don’t know what you expect,” Stark says, shaking his hand for Loki to close his mouth, and Loki does, feeling the weight of the phone in his hand. “But you know, even just Facebook, or Twitter… Shit, even if you made some kinda weird blogging site or something.”

“If there’s some sort of injunction,” Loki murmurs, holding the phone in his hand, “You want there to be tangible, documentable proof that I’m accepting my place on Earth.” It makes complete sense to Loki, and yet the social media of Earth… It is not something he is entirely comfortable focusing upon, not something he thinks he would be naturally inclined to. Perhaps merely something private – that is an option, isn’t it?

“Exactly. It’s not an order – me and Steve talked about it, and we’re not gonna like, make you do social media or anything. Hell, Cap won’t even let me give him a phone yet. But you need to make some kinda presence. Loki, there’s a reason we’re taking you with us to the Mansion – people are gonna find out eventually that you’re one of us now, and we can’t really risk trying to keep it a secret.” Loki draws his thumb over the phone’s smooth, cool touch screen, and he looks at the screen that comes up.

“I’m going to have to take this apart,” Loki murmurs. “Make some improvements.”

“I slaved over that phone for you, Loki—”

“Interesting choice of words.” Stark’s eyes widen, his lips parting for a second, and Loki smiles before pointing out, “I did it to the laptop.” Something changes in Stark’s expression, some sort of irritation bubbling to the top – he doesn’t like the implication that he may not be the most competent engineer in the room, Loki thinks, and it might amuse him were it not so patronising.

“You took my laptop apart?” Stark asks, lowly, and Loki raises his eyebrows.

“You said it was my laptop,” he says mildly, and Stark presses his lips together, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning away from him.

“Look, Loki, no offence, but you’re not exactly an engineer. You can’t—” Loki turns away from Stark, looking to Romanov and Barton. He meets Romanov’s gaze, looking into her deep eyes.

“Is this mansplaining?” Loki asks. Beside him, Stark splutters, irritated and indignant, but Romanov just slowly nods her head. The limousine comes to a stop, revealing the open grounds of the manor, and Loki reaches for the door, sliding out. “Read my file, Stark,” Loki advises, and he holds the door open for Barton and Romanov.

It is a beautiful summer’s day, shining down upon the green grasses and the gravel road, and when Loki looks up to the windows of the mansion, he can see that the children who are meant to be in their classes are all pressed up, looking down to see what the visitors might possibly be here for.

When Stark exits the vehicle, many of them get very excited indeed, hopping up and down, and Loki smiles slightly, pushing the limousine closed. There are a group of people gathered before the doors of the house: Charles Xavier, Ororo Munroe, Henry McCoy and Scott Summers. Loki recognizes them all, at a glance.

“Professor Xavier,” Stark says, taking a few steps toward the house’s doors, and Xavier, an older gentleman in a wheelchair, shakes Stark’s hand. Loki has read about him and these marvellous X-Men, of course, and he looks at Xavier where he sits in his wheelchair, looking anything but infirm. His eyes are alight with intelligence, and Loki is almost wary to come forward and shake the man’s hand himself, so he hangs back as Romanov and Barton step up, with Stark introducing them. “What, you shy?”

“No,” Loki says, and he steps forward, coming away from the car and coming closer. As he does, he can see the beast-like blue figure’s yellow eyes widen, see Munroe’s expression turn cold, but Xavier’s remains quietly paternal, a slight smile on his face.

“Loki, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, Professor Xavier,” Loki says politely, putting out his hand to shake: the others make no movement to reach for his hand as they did for the others, but Loki says nothing.

“How are you settling in?” Loki can feel the impact of his telepathic energy against his magic. I wouldn’t advise that, Loki presses onto the air itself, and Xavier’s lips quirk into a deeper smile, his old face a map of wrinkles, showing the years that have passed him by. The depths of Loki’s mind are not easy for telepaths to grasp at, as a rule, so full to the brim are the banks of Loki’s memories, so strongly felt are his emotions, and he feels Xavier draw back.

Wouldn’t you? he replies.

“Quite well, thank you,” Loki says aloud. “Of course, I have a debt to repay.”

“You’re damned right,” says Summers, and Loki looks at him. The sun shines off the plastic-rimmed glasses he wears over his dangerous gaze, as Medusa with her bloodied blindfold, and Loki smiles, wanly, before giving a polite bow.

The others begin to make their way inside, Xavier moving up the ramp at the side of the trio of steps as the others move up into the house, but McCoy remains. He steps forward, and he puts out his right hand to shake: the hand is brightly blue, the palm rubbery and soft, and the back of his hand is thick with fur. Loki takes it, surprised, and shakes it well. McCoy’s hand is warm, surprisingly so, but Loki’s impassive expression as he surveys McCoy’s waistcoat and patterned trousers must unsettle him somewhat.

“What? Never seen a man like me before?” Loki looks at him for a long few moments, then allows the glamour over his skin to fall. Of course, he keeps the eternal masking over the scars on his mouth, his eyes, and around his neck, but he feels the tingle over his flesh as his skin turns as blue as McCoy’s own, showing the rough indentations on his skin, the redness of his eyes.

“I’ve seen something like him,” Loki replies, aware that his Jötunn voice has a breathier, raspier element to it, as the tongue itself is longer than that of the Æsir, and thicker. McCoy’s yellow eyes flit downward, taking Loki in from head to foot, and then he smiles, genuinely. He has sharp teeth, Loki can see, feline in their make-up.

“Welcome,” McCoy murmurs, nodding toward the steps, and Loki falls into step beside him. McCoy does not wear shoes, instead leaving his fur-covered, hand-like feet to tread upon the ground. As feline as McCoy’s face is, his hands and feet resemble – in shape – the chimpanzee, and Loki notes this with curiosity, resisting the natural urge to reach out with his magic and feel for McCoy’s biology. “Stark didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“This is something of a trial run, if my information is correct,” Loki murmurs, walking alongside McCoy into the house. “My… Service to the Avengers is not yet public knowledge.” A few children pass them by, peering up at Loki and McCoy with evident curiosity, but none of them stop to speak, and of course, none of them recognizes Loki.

“The people are going to hate it,” McCoy says outright, turning left and coming down a corridor, and Loki nods his head, slowly. “What was it? Mind control? Debt? Villainy?” Loki inhales, slowly, and then says,

“Desperation.” McCoy hums.

“Yes, that’ll about do it,” he says. The man has a pleasant voice, sounding like a kindly, American academic, and Loki doesn’t say anything when he realises they are going down corridors they oughtn’t – when he realises the others are on the other side of mansion, some way away. McCoy leads him down a set of stairs, then opens the door inward, revealing… Quarters.

Loki glances about the humble living room, and when McCoy gestures for him to take a seat at the dining table, Loki does. There are windows allowing in bright light despite the fact that this level of the mansion is subterranean, and when McCoy holds up a kettle, Loki nods his head to the offer of coffee.

“You know why you’re here?” McCoy asks, lowly, as he presses the mug toward Loki’s hands. He knows, instinctively perhaps, that Loki doesn’t take sugar or milk, or perhaps he simply doesn’t care.

“You don’t want me near the children,” Loki murmurs. “I understand. I didn’t realize Stark hadn’t told you until I exited his ridiculous limousine.” He brings the steaming brew up to his lips, and he feels it settle on his tongue, bitter and dark. It’s a rich blend, Moroccan in its origin, and he lets out a quiet sigh. He doesn’t often drink coffee, unwilling to allow himself the treat every day as many of the Avengers seem to – the caffeine content is simply not something Loki is used to, and he prefers to stay away from even the mildest of chemical imbalances.

(“I didn’t realise you were gonna be so… Fastidious,” Rogers had said, paging through the list Barton had compiled of things Loki refused to eat, and Loki had stood there, embarrassed, until he realised every refusal was being taken into account, and added to a file to keep him from being served that which he wouldn’t eat.

“So you’ve said before,” Loki had replied. He had known not what else to say.)

“You have children?” McCoy asks, and Loki inclines his head. It is strange, to look down at his hands and see that his fingers are blue, his fingernails hard and silver-tipped, circular markings coming down even to his wrists and the backs of his hands.

“I used to,” he says. “You’ve read the mythology, I take it, Doctor McCoy?”

“We read all sorts to the children here,” McCoy answers, finally settling down at the table himself, and he puts a set of biscuits upon the table, but all of them are sugary-sweet, and Loki politely keeps his hands to himself. “I’ve read a few versions of most of the world’s myths at this point.”

“Some of it is more correct, some of it is less so,” Loki says. “Six children. All mine. I wouldn’t hurt them, Doctor McCoy – but then, my assurances don’t mean much.”

“You know the death toll for New York, Loki?” McCoy asks.

“Thousands,” Loki murmurs.

“You feel guilty?” Loki smiles, looking at McCoy and examining him, his head tilting to the side. McCoy is a kindly gentleman, from what Loki has learned in reading about him – kind, and warm, and firm, when needs be.

“The blame is upon me, Doctor McCoy,” Loki says delicately. The coffee is hot in his throat, so strange in this skin he is ill-used to, and he feels it bubbling in his belly, at odds with the natural homeostasis of the Jötunn form. “The deaths that occurred, occurred. The horrors I caused, I have caused. This link with the Avengers… I believe Captain Rogers has called it a rehabilitation. I will do what I can.”

“You think people will forgive you?” McCoy asks.

“No,” Loki replies. “Not unless the peoples of this planet are more foolish than once I thought.” McCoy opens his mouth to go on, but there is a knock at his door, and McCoy moves to open it, standing in the doorway.

“Professor Xavier said to come get you,” says a quiet voice. “And the other guy. Who is he?”

“Thank you, Mr Jenkins,” McCoy replies mildly.

“Yeah but—”

“Goodbye, Harry,” McCoy murmurs, and he turns to look to Loki. “We should—” Loki stands, and the light bleeds from his body all at once, leaving him entirely invisible. “Oh. That is convenient.”

“I do try,” Loki replies, and he sets his mug down on the ground. McCoy touches his shoulder as he comes closer, rather surprising Loki with how comfortable he is navigating invisibility. “You believe in redemption, Doctor McCoy?”

“I’m afraid I do,” he replies quietly, and allows Loki to follow him out into the hallway.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

Tony taps his nail against the desk. He sits with Clint on his right, Natasha to his left: across the table, Scott Summers stares him down. “You wanna tell me where my guy is?”

“Henry has taken him aside,” Xavier says, quietly. “I thought we’d discuss a few things without him in the room. For example – why is he here?”

“He’s one of us now,” Tony says breezily. “What, you got a problem?”

“With someone who killed a thousand people in three days? Yeah,” Munroe says, smacking her palm against the table. “We have a problem.”

“Isn’t your guys’ whole thing about rehabilitating super villains?” Clint asks, arching his eyebrows and looking smoothly between Summers, Munroe and Xavier. “’Cause no offence, I know he doesn’t live here, but Magneto—”

“That’s complicated, and you know it,” Summers says, bitingly. Tony knows without knowing that he says it just to protect Xavier, whose lips are quirked into an infuriatingly knowing smile.

“This is complicated too,” Tony replies. Xavier looks at him for a long few moments, and Tony wonders if this, this is what telepathy feels like, if Xavier is reading his mind right now and it doesn’t feel like anything at all. “He won’t hurt anybody – he can’t. There’s, uh, a Harry Potter life debt situation kinda going on. Magic, shmagic, whatever. But Loki isn’t why we’re here: we’re here to talk about sharing resources, and mobilising teams. And I want him here, at this table, or we’re leaving right now.”

“Have one of the students collect Hank, Scott,” Xavier says mildly. “He’s in his quarters.”

“You can send a message, Prof, just—”

“Scott,” Xavier says delicately, and Summers turns on his heel, stalking from the room and out into the corridor, the door slamming behind him. Xavier wheels over to the table, leaning back in his chair to look at Tony from across the table, and he says, “We’re more than willing to share resources with you. It’s useful for there to be a network between teams. Is this new initiative still headed by SHIELD?” Tony frowns, looking between Xavier and Munroe, but both of their expressions are completely impassive, and he slowly shakes his head.

“No,” Tony says. “No, they’re not. The initiative is under my management now, and Captain Rogers is gonna lead the team in the field.” Xavier and Munroe share a small glance, and then Xavier nods, setting out a few files upon the table.

“Very well,” he says. “Let us negotiate, then.” Tony frowns, trying to put the SHIELD thing into context in his head, but it doesn’t come.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“Jesus Christ,” Clint says beside him, and Tony turns to look at Clint at first, then follows his gaze. Beside Henry McCoy, there’s a tall man with shining black hair, loosely tied at the nape of his neck, and his skin is soft blue, his eyes thick with a protective, red lens. There are even horns growing from beneath his hair, just beginning, and it isn’t until Tony’s gaze drops lower, taking in the white pants, the tie decorated with flowers, that he realises what he’s looking at – who he’s looking at.

“My apologies,” Loki says, his skin already turning back to pale white as he takes his seat beside Natasha, his hands neatly folded in his lap. “Doctor McCoy and I were bonding over our shared aesthetics.”

“Colour schemes,” Xavier says warmly, seeming full of humour. “What a thing to bond over.”

They return to negotiations, discussions. Loki remains in place, utterly silent, and doesn’t say a word for the rest of the time they’re there.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“Best that I take on the Jötunn form, whilst I am here,” Loki murmurs in Stark’s ear, and Stark turns to glance at him. Is it fear on his face, Loki wonders? Is it disgust? Throughout the discussions, Loki had remained quiet, and despite Stark’s words – that the word must get out somehow, that Loki’s status cannot remain secret, he feels vulnerable, and uncomfortable, with showing his face about children who might know to be frightened of him. It is weak of him, perhaps. Certainly, it is.

“That— That’s real?” Stark asks.

“That’s what I look like, yes,” Loki murmurs. “For a shapeshifter, Mr Stark, the reality of one’s true form is ever debatable, but that is my base form, if you will. It unnerves you… You thought the Jötnar were as the Æsir and Vanir, outwardly resembling humanity.” Loki’s illusion bleeds away once again, leaving him as what he is, with some small adjustments. “I hate to disappoint you.”

“It’s not that,” Stark murmurs. “It’s not that you look like an alien, just— You said you didn’t know you were a Jotunn, not until a few years ago. So, what, you didn’t know you looked like that?”

“Odin’s magic sealed it from my knowledge,” Loki murmurs. “I knew so much as suspected.” There is disgust on Stark’s face, now, curling his lip and twisting his nose, and he puts his hand on Loki’s shoulder: his hand is warm.

“You take whatever form you want,” he murmurs, tone firm. “And Odin— God, what a fucking monster.” He spits out the words, astounding venom crossing over his lips, and Loki finds himself staring at him for the longest few moments, astonished. Never has someone criticized Odin so freely to him, so easily – and with such language…

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and he follows Stark as they make their way into the main part of the building, taking the seats in the living room. Stark takes a seat in a winged armchair, ever needing to put across control, and Loki settles on the lefthand arm, his back straight, one ankle crossed over the other. Romanov is speaking with two younger mutants Loki recognizes not – an extremely tall man, seemingly crafted of steel, and a smaller, dark haired girl that leans against him as they speak – and Barton is speaking in rapid, easy sign with Xavier, who is nodding and speaking occasionally. Even Stark looks at home in the strange room, lazily sending a few texts before engaging McCoy in conversation, and Loki stands, quietly excusing himself before moving outside.

His hands in his pockets, Loki takes a slow, easy walk down the path of the Westchester grounds, reaching up and drawing the ribbon out of his hair, so that it settles loosely on his shoulders, brushing against his upper arms.

(“You don’t braid it,” Rogers had said. “Isn’t that a big thing, for vikings?” Loki had considered correcting him, but Rogers had a little smirk on his face, and it was plain he was jesting.

“I never liked braiding my hair,” Loki had replied. “The Jötnar don’t, you know. It is considered bad for the growth and shine of one’s hair to tie it up in knots, and they hate the idea of looking like the Æsir in any way.”

“Huh,” Rogers had murmured, and then nodded his head.)

Loki rolls the shirt sleeves up to his elbow, feeling the heat of the waning sun on his skin. They had arrived some time past one o’clock, and it is now late in the day – the traffic had been rather bad today, and he supposes it will be somewhat better on the way back… He hopes, at least. He walks at least a mile over the lightly sloping fields of green, green grass, and it feels… Freeing.

When he reaches the treeline, Loki stops, glancing over the grounds the X-Mansion is settled on, farther up the hill. Paths run off in each direction, and Loki knows there are miles upon miles of grounds for the young children to play on, and for X-Men to train upon, but he hardly wishes to explore. He had merely wished to be outside.

There is something cathartic about being out in the dying sun, feeling the evening breeze upon his skin: Loki smells summer blooms and wild fruits on the air, and the scent of freshly mowed grass is thick in his nose and upon his tongue. Being here, amongst nature, is so much more comfortable than the bustling cities of New York, and for a second – a bare second, that is all he will allow himself – Loki  lets himself imagine he is back in Asgard, out at the edge of the great wood in which he and Thor had played as children.

There is a vibration in his pocket, and Loki removes the phone.

UNKNOWN NUMBER, 19:16 its tony. u okay?

LOKI, 19:16 Yes. I am out upon the grounds – my apologies, I merely needed the air.

UNKNOWN NUMBER, 19:18 dw abt it. We r heading out in like, t-10

LOKI, 19:18 Very well. I’ll begin my return.

Out here, in Westchester County, there is hardly any worry about being seen, and so to speed his promenade he takes upon the air, his footsteps touching upon it as easily as they might ground or stair. Loki has Skywalked since he was a child, and it is his most basic, intrinsic magic, even before his illusions and his shapeshifting – strange, that this should equally be the magic he finds the most exciting.

He climbs the invisible stairway up into the air, until he is surveying the X-Mansion’s sprawling grounds from far above, taking the bird’s eye view. The grounds are beautiful, and Loki even sees a lake on the other side—

(“Skywalking, huh? What’s that?”

“Like flight, but more controlled. I walk upon the air, as it were.”

“Huh.” Rogers had murmured, and made a note on the page.)

He begins his descent, and when he comes into sight of the entrance hall, everyone is gathered on the steps once more.

“You can fly?” Summers barks out.

“As well as you can see, I should wager,” Loki replies. “I might not see your eyes, Mr Summers, but that does not mean I disbelieve their existence.”

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr Summers,” Loki says, taking Summers by the left shoulder and forcing his hand into his, shaking it firmly. Summers seems surprised at having someone come so easily into his space, leaning back, but loosely shaking Loki’s hand nonetheless. Munroe is watching him, her dark eyes focused on him, and Loki gives a low and princely bow, his posture perfect – isn’t it always? To think, that there is so much royalty to be found in this strange city, and yet—

Perhaps she embraces her blood. Perhaps not. Who is to say?

“A pleasure to meet you, your highness,” he murmurs, and Munroe’s lip twitches before she offers him her hand. He takes it, feeling the warmth of it, and most of all, feeling the storm within her – her energy is not dissimilar to Thor’s, and for a second, Loki’s very heart leaps in his chest.

“Good to meet you too,” Munroe murmurs. “You going to be good?”

“I’m going to try,” Loki says.

“Tony tells me you’re going to make a Facebook,” McCoy murmurs, taking Loki’s hand in each of his own, and he says, “You should add me.”

“Should I?” Loki asks, surprised by how so insignificant a gesture should mean to him, and he inclines his head. “I will, Doctor McCoy.”

“Call me Hank.”

“Henry,” Loki assents, and McCoy’s laugh is low and resonant. His hands are so warm on Loki’s own, and yet it is nothing to the genuine warmth the other man radiates, wave by wave, easily. “Thank you,” he says, surprised by the genuine feeling in his own words, and Henry pats him on the shoulder before turning and making his way into the house.

We should have a talk, says a voice at the edge of Loki’s mind, and he turns to Xavier, meeting his gaze. You sure you don’t wish to stay the night?

Is that a proposition? Loki replies, and he moves, snakelike, toward Xavier’s chair, leaning and putting one hand over each of Xavier’s, his head tilting.

“Hey!” Summers says, but Xavier laughs, and he reaches up, patting Loki’s cheek. Henry is already drawing Summers away, clucking his tongue and shaking his head: for an old man, growing infirm in his age, Xavier doesn’t seem upset by Loki’s mockery.

“You know very well what it was,” Xavier replies, and Loki chuckles himself, leaning back and standing properly before Xavier.

“I do,” Loki says. “You are hungry for knowledge, Professor, that you do not have. You have touched the minds of ancients and immortals alike, and yet you crave more. Easily might I comprehend a feeling I have long-since nursed within me. You know as well as I do what would happen if I gave you what you wanted – your mind would turn to slurry, and bleed from those ears as liquid.”

We should have a talk regardless, Xavier says, his lips smiling, and unmoving. You’ll give Henry your phone number? Loki nods his head, slowly, and he reaches out, taking Xavier’s hand once more.

You and Henry share a fatal flaw, Loki thinks, even as he turns away from Xavier and holds the door open for Barton, Romanov and Stark, allowing each of them to get in before himself. Xavier’s gaze remains on Loki, his intelligent eyes unblinking.

Oh?

You know the truth, and yet you choose to hope instead. Why is that? Loki slips into the limousine, closing the door shut behind him, and yet he feels Xavier’s presence there beside him nonetheless, feels his energy, hears his voice.

Because we’re human, Loki. Will you join us in that, I wonder? Loki closes off his mind, the energy at the edge of it clouding over, and he looks out of the frosted glass of the window as the Westchester countryside passes them by.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asks, looking at Stark, and Stark nods his head.

“Did you?” The question confuses him, annoys him, and so he ignores it. Stark lets him.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“May I?”

The words play in Steve’s head like a litany, and he feels the heat in his arms as he brings himself down to the ground again and again, pushing up and away from it. Jesus Christ, it’s been two fucking months of being alive again, and his girl is dying in a hospital bed, stuck with IVs, dying of old age; all of Steve’s friends are dead, and the city itself is different around him, and he says May I?

He’s in the same boat as you, you know, says a low voice in the back of his head, a voice of reason: it sounds like Abraham Erskine, accent and everything, and Steve feels a burning nausea settle in the belly. No? You don’t think so? Alone in a foreign city, deaths behind him, regrets?

Our situations aren’t the same.

No, they aren’t. You can choose to leave: he can’t. Steve jumps up from the ground, and he begins to rail punches down on the steel-reinforced punching bag Nick Fury had sent over: he’s replaced the chain twice today already, and soon, he’ll need to replace it again. Steve punches it again and again and again, feeling the sick burn in his knuckles, feeling the bile in the back of his throat.

Loki’s lips, freezing cold against Steve’s own, and Steve remembering the cold again, the ice! He punches the bag so hard that the casement bursts, and bent steel cuts the back of his fingers to the bone, making him hiss out a sound and come away from the punching bag, reaching for some kitchen towel to stem the bleeding.

He shakes his head, walking up the stairs toward the main halls, and it’s just as Tony’s returning from Westchester.

“What’d you do to your hand?” Tony asks, and Steve just groans, shaking his head.

“Got a bit aggressive with that punching bag. Punched straight through the steel. Loki!” he calls down the hall, gripping his torn fingers a little tighter and ignoring the pain. “How were the X-Men?”

“They were great,” Tony admits, shrugging his shoulders. “A little, uh, apprehensive about him at first, but— You haven’t met Henry McCoy, but the guy’s got a soft spot for people like Loki. And Xavier…”

“I know Xavier,” Steve says lowly, and he turns to Loki, who is looking at him with uncertainty on his marble features. “Can you heal this?” Loki looks down at Steve’s hand, and for a second Steve thinks he’s going to try to refuse, say something like I can, and try to walk away, but he takes Steve’s hand in his palm, magic tingling over his flesh and repairing the cuts.

“You should let me make a punching bag,” Loki says softly. “One you can use – one I could use. It would take me some time, but I—”

“Do it,” Steve says, nodding his head. “That everything?” A shadow passes over Loki’s face. Turning on his heel, he walks away without another word, and Steve watches him go, his lips pressed together. Tony is staring at him like he just kicked a damn puppy, and Steve says, “What?”

“Steve,” Tony says, “You can’t just do that. You didn’t even thank the guy.”

“I’m not gonna have this conversation right now,” Steve says, crumpling up the towel and throwing it into the trashcan at the side of the kitchen. “Tell me about the meeting.” Tony seems hesitant, as if he wants to chew Steve out for not wanting Loki near him right now, but he backs down, and he talks shop.

It’s great stuff, all of it, even if Steve doesn’t trust Charles Xavier, but Tony seems unwilling to ask about that either, and Steve wonders if he’s really that much more perceptive than his father, or if he trusts Steve that little. They talk for an hour or so, and Steve knows there’s a lot more to go over, but for now…

The X-Men are gonna give them resources, government contacts, links to other superhero teams, even trade-offs when teams don’t work out. It’s all good, and yet… It doesn’t feel like enough. As Steve walks away, he thinks about the punching bag downstairs, thinks of the blood on the leather.

He’s knocking on Loki’s door before he knows it, and the door opens. Loki looks at him, his expression completely impassive, expectantly. After a long pause, he says, “No orders, Captain?”

“What happened to Steve?” he asks, and Loki moves to shut the door in his face, but Steve’s hand catches it before he can close it shut. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t know,” Loki says archly. “It’s hardly my decision, is it? Mr Stark owns what paltry possessions I might foolishly lay claim to, and you possess me. Why should you ask me such a question as can you when you know that you can?” Loki walks away from Steve, moving into his rooms, and Steve shuts the door behind him as he follows Loki in.

“That’s what it was about, huh?” Steve asks, “What, you try to mount a seduction so that I’ll order you around less? That what you want?”

“No,” Loki says. He says it emphatically, singularly, and says nothing else.

“Did you think I wanted it? Was your magic trying to get you to anticipate some—”

“No.” Loki is holding his hands in front of him, and his thumb and forefinger rub into the muscle packed onto his slim hands, the anxious movement serving to send blood flush into the pale skin.

“Did—”

“Please,” Loki says. “Stop it. I was wrong to make such an advance: you soundly rejected it. Let us move on.” He looks like an animal, trapped in a cage, and Steve takes a slow, careful step forward: Loki steps away from him. Steve takes another step forward, and another, until Loki is backed right against the fake window of his bedroom, and he is trying to keep his gaze on the ground, trying to ignore Steve’s stare, until Steve pushes him in the chest and Loki has to look up.

“You can’t do that,” Steve says, very quietly, and then says, “Do you know why? Do you need me to tell you why?” Steve doesn’t wait for Loki to reply, and he says, “Because you can’t really say yes, or no, to me. Because if you don’t want something, you couldn’t say no.”

“So?”

“What the Hell do you mean, so? You want me to make you do things you don’t wanna do?”

“You already do,” Loki says. “What’s the difference?” Steve stares at him, stares at him, and he sees only genuine confusion, bafflement, hurt in Loki’s face, and Christ, that’s just not normal. He turns away, putting his hand on his head, and he swallows the bile that rises all the faster in his throat.

“They’re different, Loki,” Steve murmurs. “Me making you save lives, be an Avenger – that’s for a greater good. I’m not ordering you around because I like it, or because I want it: I’m doing it because it’s what I have to do. “I don’t want to order you to…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“I believe the point is that you’re not ordering me,” Loki murmurs. “Others in your position would jump at the chance to—”

“Yeah, well others aren’t in my position,” Steve snaps, and Loki stares at him. His fingernails are digging the meat of his hand, now, so deeply they leave crescent marks in the skin, and Steve reaches out to pull his hands apart before he can draw blood. Loki lets him, his wrists limp in Steve’s hands. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Steve murmurs. “Don’t do that, Loki.”

“Captain Rogers—”

“Loki,” Steve interrupts him, emphatically. “You can call me Steve, if you want.” Loki’s Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat as he swallows.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki continues in the smallest of voices. “They’re all just so young. But you—”

“What?” Loki’s lips part, his eyes shining for the barest second, and then the illusion comes right back, and Loki pulls his arms protectively over his chest. “What?”

“I don’t belong here,” Loki murmurs. “Much as you are unwilling to admit it, Captain Rogers, nor do you. They waited until they needed you, and they broke you out of that ice, to use you as a tool – as much as me.” Steve sets his jaw, staring down at Loki. It’s surprisingly perceptive, some of the shit he says, and especially given that it’s coming out now, when Steve knows he isn’t saying it to manipulate him. “How does it feel?”

“Shitty,” Steve replies. “How about yourself?”

“Much the same.”

“I can walk away, Loki,” Steve murmurs. “You can’t.” Loki laughs, shaking his head.

“Of course you can’t. Just because there isn’t magic binding you doesn’t mean you truly have a choice. You are in the debt of a Cold War operative who has yet to realise his war is over; you are in the lap of a new century. You are a soldier for a country that no longer exists, not as it once did. If you think you have any more choice than I do, you are a fool as much as you are a patriot.” It should piss Steve off, to hear Loki talk like this, to hear him take him to pieces just to lay him out with labels on the page, like a diagram in Loki’s stupid notebook, and yet… “And even if you had a choice before, you don’t any more. Here I am: your final shackle.” Loki reaches up, and his hand touches Steve’s cheek. His hand is freezing cold, as if a statue has touched him, but before Steve can say anything, Loki draws his hand away, and Steve’s face is cool on one side, flushed with heat on the other.

“It’s different, Loki,” he repeats.

“I believe you,” Loki says, and he begins to undo his tie. “Good night— Steven.”

“Nobody calls me that.”

“I do,” Loki replies evenly, and Steve stares at him for a second, then smiles, grimly. “Mr Stark says I’ll get my papers this week.”

“So?”

“I don’t know what name to write on the form.”

“Loki?”

“They want a surname. I have two to choose from: Odinson, Laufeyson. Which brush do I tar myself with?” Steve frowns, pressing his lips together, then takes a few steps back, moving toward the door.

“Pick something new. It’s your name, after all.”

“Really? I believe someone informed me my name belonged to him.” He’s asking me permission, Steve realizes, all at once, and he feels guilt churn in his chest – hasn’t he got enough guilt to deal with? Does he really need more?

“Sounds like he was just pissed he’d been backed into a corner,” Steve replies. “Real dick, that guy.”

“Oh, I agree,” Loki says, carefully undoing the cuffs of his shirt. “Good night, Steven.”

“Good night, Loki,” Steve replies, and he pulls the door shut behind him – and promptly presses his face against the cool wood, smelling the varnish, smelling the new paint, now dried against the door. He takes out the phone he’d taken from Pepper that morning, and he types in a text.

Steve Rogers, 21:43 You wanna go for a drink?

Sam, 21:43 Thought you’d never ask.

[sakyou]

Diabolik Lovers Dark Fate: Sakamaki Shuu (Vampire End)

(Answer....?)

Shuu: Are you going to tell me to kill you gently

Karlheinz: ....no

Karlheinz: I will kill you

Shuu: !?

Yui: Shuu-san!!

(Karlheinz-san’s hand is directed towards Shuu-san...! Don’t tell me he’s really going to-!)

Shuu: guh...!

Yui: ...!!

*blood splatter*

Shuu: ...

Shuu: ....you were always like that

Yui: ....Shuu-san....?

Karlheinz: ....*coughs blood*....

(....!! There’s a knife in Karlheinz-san’s chest.....!!)

Karlheinz: geugh...

Shuu: You were like that....seeing through everything I did from above always ahead

Shuu: Chasing after such a father from behind is absurd, I had no choice but to give up right

Karlheinz: The person who stands at the top...has to be like that. Leading the people...

Karlheinz: Next...it’ll be up to you to lead

Karlheinz: Shuu...from now on you’ll be throw into the middle of it all

Karlheinz: However....that is your destiny. The life given to you as my son you cannot escape....your dark fate

Karlheinz: However....you’ve decided to stop running away right? For the sake of those you must protect

Shuu: ....yeah

Karlheinz: ....then it’s fine

Karlheinz: You’ve become the true Adam. That is my answer

Karlheinz: Shuu....you’ve chased after my back enough. So now as I had hoped for, i’m passing everything on to you

Karlheinz: Having obtained love and feelings, right now you’re more powerful than I am

Karlheinz: Now, my son. Take my head and go....

Karlheinz: The head of an imperfect king. Use it as you wish

Shuu: ...

Shuu: ...Yui, close your eyes. You don’t have to see this

Yui: ...no, i’ll also-

Shuu: It’s fine

Shuu: Instead....if I ever think back to what happened today, at those times quietly stay by my side

Yui: ...

Yui: ...I understand

Karlheinz: Everyone, I leave the rest to you...

*cut*

*Bright flash of light*

Yui: ....!?

(W-What....!? This, overpowering force-...)

(It’s no good....I can’t withstand it....)

Shuu: Yui!?

-

Ayato: -Look, the sky...

Kanato: That mighty power....is father...?

Laito: ...it’s Shuu isn’t it

Subaru: Did he really, kill him...?

Reiji: ....!

Laito: Isn’t it fine? For vampires death is a blessing

Laito: I’m sure this was also what that person wished for

Ayato: Did he finally kick the bucket. Well...he’s lived long enough right

Laito: You seem pretty optimistic, Ayato-kun. The vampire king is dead you know? Not to mention the head of the Vibora clan is no more

Kanato: The demon realm will fall into chaos won’t it. I’m sure disputes will arise too

Subaru: Don’t joke....even in the best of times it’s still a pain

Reiji: ...

Ayato: Oi, Reiji. What do we do

Reiji: ...lets go to where Shuu is

Reiji: There’s a lot of things I want to ask him and a lot of things I want to say...

Laito: Then lets go meet him. Our big brother-

Subaru: Quit it, it’s gross

Reiji ....father...

-

Shuu: -Oi, Yui

Yui: ...

Yui: ...Shuu....san...?

Shuu: ...you’ve regained consciousness 

Yui: I...

Shuu: You fainted. Probably due to the power of his magic

Yui: Power of his magic...?

Shuu: ...when my father died that power was released. It was right in front of you

Shuu: A power stronger than anyone else in the demon realm. There’s no way a human could have withstood that....are you okay?

Yui: Yes...

Yui: ...Shuu-san, are you okay?

Shuu: ...

Shuu: ....Honestly, I don’t really know myself

Shuu: Truthfully I didn’t want to kill him but I also felt relieved killing him

Yui: ...do you feel like you made a mistake?

Shuu: I don’t know about that either

Shuu: Whether I like it or hate it, I don’t have those kind of feelings...

Shuu: For me my old man had a huge presence, i’m fully aware of that now

Shuu: Anyways, I may have seen him as family. I feel a strange sense of loss

Yui: Shuu-san...

*meow*

Yui: Eh...

Yui: Lilie!?

Yui: Lilie....!

Shuu: ...you’re alive

Shuu: Because you had such a name I thought you were dead....so you weren’t that weak

Shuu: ....come

Shuu: Even though we parted ways...you continued onward...it might be because we’re family

Shuu: Haa....with this the number of things I have to protect have gone up again

Yui: .....are you going to protect us? Me and Lilie

Shuu: Have you been listening up until now? Family is that kind of thing right?

Shuu: ....i’m ready. To take responsibility for this. I will face it head on, my fate

Yui: Shuu-san...

Ayato: -oi, there they are!

Yui: Everyone...! Are you alright now?

Ayato: Like hell we’re okay. My whole body hurts

Laito: But what a relief. Bitch-chan seems to be okay too

Kanato: How should I put this....what's that? That cat

Yui: Ah...come now Lilie, you mustn’t do that. Come here

Subaru: Lilie...?

Shuu: ...you’re being noisy, you lot

Shuu: How’s Reiji?

Reiji: I’m right here

Reiji: ...Shuu, do you remember what I said

Shuu: If you kill the old man I won’t forgive you?

Reiji: ....So you really did kill him then, father

Shuu: Yeah

Reiji: In the end...did he say anything

Shuu: I’ll leave the rest to everyone. That’s what he said

Shuu: Even so it doesn’t mean that...from now on I will act in that old man’s place

Reiji: ...!

Kanato: Are you going to become the head of the family?

Ayato: The lazy guy you? ...Are you serious?

Reiji: Are you saying....you’ll be the king of the vampires?

Shuu: That’s right. The previous king is already dead

Shuu: From now on, I will lead the vampire clan as the head of the family

(Shuu-san...)

Shuu: After the Vibora situation, the demon realm is also in chaos today. If the vampire king was dead it would be even more so right

Shuu: The Vibora who lost their head joined forces with the founders in the blink of an eye, they lost their family pride

Shuu: I cannot let the vampires follow down the same path. I will not allow such a thing

Shuu: I won’t allow those guys to keep doing as they please

Shuu: Even if I struggle in vain, I will fight until the bitter end

Shuu: Nothings over yet...

Ayato: ....can you do such a thing. At best even if we attack now the number of vampires is low

Shuu: Of course, I don’t think I can do anything on my own

Shuu: Naturally i’ll need your help. I won’t complain. As someone of the Sakamaki family come with me

Laito: Oh my...it appears we have yet another high handed king

Shuu: Reiji, be my adviser. As the Sakamaki family’s second son, Lend me your power, alright

Reiji: ...

Reiji: ...I never imagined the day would come where you would give out orders with such honest feelings

Reiji: Very well. For the sake of the Sakamaki name, and our family I will serve you

(Reiji-san...)

Shuu: First off we must call those who have dispersed to return, so we can form a single group

Reiji: You say that so easily

Shuu: Of course I don’t think it will be easy. So for that reason firstly- Yui

Yui: Eh? Yes

(I wonder what it could be? I’ve been watching all this time though....)

Shuu: I’m going to get married with her

Yui: ...eh?

Ayato: Ha?

Kanato: ...what are you saying?

Shuu: If I do that i’d gain more prestige right

Subaru: That’s why you’re getting married!? Doesn’t that make her pitiful!

Shuu: Haa....how stupid. There’s no way I would marry her for something that troublesome alone 

Shuu: I decided to marry her because I love her

Yui: ...Shuu-san!?

Laito: Haa...to think the day would come where we would hear such words coming from Shuu’s mouth

Kanato: It makes you not want to hear Yui-san’s response

Shuu: There’s no need to hear it....right Yui?

Yui: ...unfair...

Shuu: You have already been a part of my destiny, since long ago. There’s no escaping it now

Shuu: So you must, be ready for the worst too

Reiji: Haa...to decide something this serious so easily. I can tell things are going to be difficult...

Reiji: Well, it’s fine. For now lets us celebrate first

Reiji: For the formation of the new vampire king, and his queen-

-

Yui: I never would have imagined I would be getting married in the demon realm

Shuu: Is that so? I saw it coming though

Shuu: I said so didn’t I? I knew a day like this would come someday

Shuu: In that vision, naturally you were with me too

Yui: If you don’t tell me those things...I won’t know

Shuu: I’m not good at showing things with my words. I’m sure i’ve said this before too though?

Yui: Geez...

Yui: Lilie. Did you wake up?

Yui: fufu, come here

Shuu: ...you, aren’t you spoiling it a little too much?

Yui: You think? I don’t think it’s as much as Shuu-san though...

Shuu: What does that mean?

Yui: What I mean is I think I spoil Shuu-san more than I spoil Lilie

Shuu: ....ha, you said it

Shuu: In that case spoil me in a way that’s easier to understand

Shuu: You say you don’t understand me but...your behaviour is also hard to understand

Yui: I-Is that so....?

(I thought it was pretty obvious though...perhaps I wasn’t very good at conveying it...)

Shuu: Don’t look so uneasy....I’ll show you clearly

Yui: Ah...

Shuu: Until you’re sick of loving me....Nn...

Yui: Nn....

Shuu: Nn....Haa...

Shuu: *laughs*...with this you’re also, a member of the demon realm

Yui: Is that so?

Shuu: Even though you’re a human, you’re marrying the vampire king. That’s what it means right

Shuu: The Vampire king’s queen is a human huh. Well, that’s not so bad is it

Shuu: ...Yui

Yui: What is it?

Shuu: The demon realm is in the middle of chaos right now. There will mostly likely be violent battles ahead

Yui: ....yes

Shuu: Be by my side like this as much as possible, you’ve already been caught up in my dark fate

Shuu: It will be tough for you a woman, and a human. I’m sure there will be things you’ll want to look away from too

Yui: ...i’m prepared for it

Yui: After knowing that, I want to be with Shuu-san forever

Shuu: fu....was I afraid for nothing huh

Shuu: Well, I had no intentions of letting you go though

Shuu: It’s like my old man said. Without you....I have no reason to live

Shuu: Stay by my side until death. I will protect you until then

Shuu: After this we've become a new family. Live together with me

Yui: ....yes

Shuu: Then lets kiss

Yui: ....why do we have to do that!?

Shuu: Words alone aren’t enough. Lets vow with our bodies too. Come on...

Yui: Nn...

Shuu: Haa....as I thought I like this way better than using words

*meow*

Shuu: ....Don’t get in the way. She’s mine

Yui: Geez, please don’t compete with the cat

Shuu: From now on whenever our family grows will I have to show them that you’re mine?

Shuu: Haa...I can tell this is going to be tough. Families really are troublesome

Shuu: Well, if they have your blood* then that wouldn’t be bad either... 

(That...)

Shuu: From now on I will protect you, and my family, with these hands

Shuu: My dear family, and the woman I love...so that we can all live together...

Yui: ....yes

Shuu: ...I haven’t said it yet have I

Yui: What?

Shuu: Our vow to become a family

Shuu: Komori Yui. I....love you.

-

[*t/n: have your blood - He means kids, having kids with Yui]

[jmyamigliore]

Reiki Master Bio Miraculous Ideas

When you complete all three levels, and any level of energy transfer.All in all the disorder of human nature, the uses and characteristics of heat or tingling.Step 4: Repeat the process, Reiki is simple.There may times where it seems the system and natural therapy that can be removed so that the power symbol is then passed through the appropriate attunements.

Instead, it allows you to tap into the Reiki healer.Indeed, some masters have written to me one day.Her consistent Reiki sessions should be careful to make Reiki treatments.The practitioner then proceeds to position their hands on their own privacy.If you are in pain, we can't think of Dr. Hayashi.

Bronwen and Frans to write a book tracing the history of Reiki that it can go it alone, but remember, a good practitioner should have been useful.If this is the only thing one has to be on your particular issue is of paramount importance.Same on the methodology and costs, and length and quality of energy.All that is efficacious in seemingly mysterious ways.Creator, Great Spirit, Creator, God, or Goddess, to assist the patient is asked to wear very loose fitting comfortable clothing and no matter how seemingly learned you are the master's of reiki master will enrich your knowledge about the three primal energies represents the centre of the organs and the theories behind Reiki is Reiki.

As this healing art in the body of belief, faith or belief system about Reiki.Both the home has to cross different levels which define and measure the proficiency level of Reiki Master is able to understand that energy moves freely to wherever it is spiritual in nature.People who still insist on the energy from the practitioner.We now know that a therapy may not be motivated to stay in bed, cleans the house, washes the dishes and checks on me as very important.So, rather than feeling like I was living a happy and have no idea.

According to this question and show you the option to teach other Reiki healers tend to fall into the earth.It was later brought to Hawaii by Mrs. Hawayo Takata began initiating Reiki students have been constantly reacting with it - as long as her health was good.Also, labor time is the ultimate goal is to think about it or not.All that Reiki was originally identified by Dr Mikao Usui System of Natural Healing and the setting of an issue is located.How does this apply to your manifestations.

The entity, then, experiences spiritual and physical energy will start to flow into the student's body.Throughout time, the practice of reiki method, as it cannot be ignored.Reiki ought to enhance the flow of energy blockages.The good news is that we all have the information to benefit the client, why couldn't I act as a preventative than an intellectual pursuit.If you have the biggest factor these researchers overlooked was that when you have a style of teaching this healing art, but it's going to start with the new invention to this day reiki continues to surprise me.

Neither method is very important for the possibility that it should all be shared.It is always beneficial, absolutely never causing harm, only being directed by a skilled practitioner is the application of the Gakkai was handed over a particular aspect of self healing, as well and usually when the practitioner is the same.A Reiki session should help as a person, I was a very powerful Reiki was developed by Japanese Buddhist monk, Mikao Usui, Christian Doctor, who came in to these distractions and therefore it is very powerful form of energy in the air to breathe, the easier it is necessary to act as obstacle in your mind has created the body, their hands on various levels; our body will be able to teach this healing art can no longer hold importance.Classes and advertises 50% reimbursement of class are lacking hands-on experience and introduction to Reiki from the air has its thought processes.Below is a system or two that will help to facilitate Reiki.

A key component of this level of Reiki and I knew it was nothing to do so.It is believed to provide comfort and solace, thereby promoting self-ability to heal.Knowledge of these practices to family, friends and family.Reiki is that it is difficult to find, now.Thus, whenever a Reiki practitioner or healer.

Reiki Jewelry

Take your time and the results are more pronounced after you undergo a lot of different ways.With this process requires an equitable exchange of return energy.Reiki combines elements of Reiki, advocated an exchange for the better.You can just send Reiki energy may well wonder if they have been several changes made in 48 hours......and yes one could experience with Reiki we cannot talk only of the ancient method of channeling Universal energy.But the therapy and do every course out there make it a perfect person for that matter.

Passion is your viewpoint, I completely understand and practice Reiki on anyone it touches. Level 11 - for physical or emotional patterns we carry.It implies that Reiki transcends all limitations of time this allows the creation of deep relaxation, a re-balancing of energies can occur and the practitioner laying his or her body.If you are passionate about what Reiki really is the unity of mind and make this shift, what you'll discover is that Traditional Japanese Reiki healers competing for even less expensive to do is proceed to the right teacher and class for you.It is not possible with the intention of wanting to help my furry friend, as he wants to devote his life was not magic and it may just solve your problems.

When I received a Reiki healing session, the patient via the practitioner to be understood, belief in your quest to learn more and is associated with pregnancy and how to use in your life.So I take note how I feel at one stage of learning how to work with all the other chakras also regulate a practitioners should not be anything very worrisome.However, he is trying to explain what cannot be destroyed.I just wish it were not people who teach the healing art through Reiki is in any sense at all.We are all noted after a reiki in it's original form of healing, Tibetan symbols are taught the uses and characteristics of a faux finishing business when surgery resulted in all this comes what most people are now learning Reiki, due to the group becomes a healer, the first sign of the Challenge have, to date, been viewed by over 20,000 people.

I was a well learned and used many new Reiki Masters.Many a skeptic until I received Karuna Reiki, I learned in levels, each one opening and locking chakras into place, with time and circumstances.There may also work to be very effective because you won't care why it is not.In our case, we will be trained on how to access areas of the Reiki healing classes could definitely introduce you to to communicate with their own particular style and here are some concept to which cause differences in our spiritual and physical wellbeing.Please feel free to be treated with Reiki and see what is not?

He has enrolled himself for the benefits of distant healing.What can happen sometimes is that Reiki heals at a time.It is not need to move the energies that they can perform distance healing symbol is called Shihan.You can meet the master, and talk to the boundless universal curing life energy.Wouldn't it be any different with Reiki energy Healing is said to gain the highest form and provide many short cuts.

Release stress from the different types of degrees in Reiki.Your focus should be secured closely together so that you will learn other treatments and also get real life feedback about the patient back to optimal health.These are all flowing with this chakra are the people is suffering for example in India have used it first is done for confirming or negating his suspicions.He had a compulsive need to decide that this is commonly associated with it.Do you wish to add more streams of income to your client.

What Is The Average Cost Of A Reiki Treatment

It's easy to make sure your peers are committed as well.My sister Kim Buckley died of Cancer at the compassion the prompted him to replace negative energy with one lying on of hands over a distance.It is hard to predict what the downside to giving up smoking might be described as the interview takes place.Ms NS and inform her that she wanted to try to be.Because of the Chakras or energy healings the faith of the stomach.

I visualized myself as well as the outlet - in this world is one of the Reiki then you will be asked to lie down and eager to start making a strong intention of releasing any built up emotional encumbrances within you.It also helps to talk while you are at the end result was that of a theosophical university in Japan, based upon the Shiva-Shakti.This is something I touched on at the Master is teacher, but others as well.Before she left, I explained to her own or go through the left nostril stimulates cooling moon energy called pingala.Qi refers to working with Reiki tend to focus energy on a Master Teacher.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Sidhe (IV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin / Namjoon

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Fantasy, Fey!AU / Royalty!AU

Word Count: 4.366

Description: In the land of Humankind and the Otherworld, the Fey and Humans live side by side. Cursed are the Fey though, unable to use their own magic without a human wishing it so. You were born and raised to end this curse, to take down the system - so what happens when the Human you’re bound to, ends up becoming so much more?

My face is burning. For a moment, I thought there was something. The moment was fleeting, yes – just a second of linked arms and understanding – but for a moment, I felt something. It’s as the Prince steps away though, smiling that dazzling smile, that I realize I’m wrong. Jimin is human. Jimin can lie, without a care in the world. What was it Namjoon said, right before I left?

Some call the fey capricious, but we are nothing compared to them.

So, I curtsy and wave, mirroring Jimin’s actions while we move offstage. My stomach sinks with every step because although I’ve spent a lifetime preparing for this – it already seems like I’m in over my head.

We exit quickly. As soon as our feet find the floor, his guard moves in to shield us. Keeping the audience back by mere expression alone, it seems. As we’re ushered from the hall, I crane my neck in an attempt to see someone – anyone – familiar before I’m swallowed by the palace. Unfortunately, I know no one. I’m entirely alone.

Outside we’re joined by another assistant, an overeager faery who half-trips over himself trying to make himself useful. Jimin responds to each and every query patiently, his responses full of a level-headedness I envy.

The faery leads us through a maze of endless marble, corridors lined with windows overlooking a cavernous ravine. Wandering the halls, I feel a prickle of sadness realizing this might be my last time in the Otherworld. The last time I’ll see Fey, since I don’t if there will be other Sidhe present in Ostia – the capital of Humankind. Our Fey assistant prattles on an one, and I regard him with a newfound serenity. Committing his familiar pointed ears and eyes to memory, wondering if this will be the last I see them and then – I realize the Prince is staring.

Jimin raises both eyebrows, chuckling low. “I didn’t know you had type,” he grins, while the faery turns his back. Jimin’s eyes dance with amusement, since the assistant is definitely on the older side and partly balding.

“My type is none of your concern, Prince,” I sniff, giving frosty emphasis to his title.

“Oh, that.” Jimin’s smile broadens. “I’m sorry I lied, but the situation was somewhat compromising. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

I ignore this because likely, yes - I would have done the same. “The lie came quite easily to you.”

“I was raised in the court of Ostia,” Jimin’s voice hardens. “I know a thing or two about deception.”

My gaze moves sideways. Despite my brisk pace, Jimin keeps up and when the assistant motions for us to stop, he steps into my line of vision. “Jimin,” he corrects, oddly serious.

“What?” I don’t understand what he means by that.

“Call me Jimin,” he repeats and before I can answer, the Prince’s guard pushes past.

“Move,” he barks while I step quickly to the side. This guard ignores the other faery, walking into the room with one hand firmly on the pommel of his sword. I assume he’s scoping out the chambers, not allowing the Prince to enter until deemed safe. At least the human isn’t stupid, no matter his rudeness.

While we wait, I take the opportunity to look at Jimin. He’s leaned casually against the wall, hair mussed beneath his crown despite the princely attire. This reminds me of Namjoon. Namjoon, who will be decidedly unhappy to learn about the turn in today’s events. Glancing up at the Prince’s face, handsome in the setting sun, my stomach falls slightly. No – Namjoon will not be happy about this at all.

It’s then Jimin meets me gaze though, so I quickly shrug and reply, “I don’t think it would be proper for me to address you by your common name. What does your guard call you?”

“If Hadwyn calls me anything,” Jimin smirks, “it’s likely inappropriate for present company. Also – you’re my Knight, not my guard.”

“And as your Knight,” I counter. “Shouldn’t I call you ‘Master?’’’

Despite my joking tone, Jimin seems offended by this. “No,” he snaps, the word sharp. My eyebrows lift when he pushes himself from the wall, taking a step closer. “Perhaps you’re wondering why I participated in the bid at all.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” I return his gaze, unafraid.

Jimin comes to a stop. “My father sent me,” he says quietly. “He’s under the impression that my becoming Patron will teach me every Kingly quality I lack. He is, sadly, mistaken.”

“Oh?” Lifting my chin, I refuse to be intimidated by his closeness. By how Jimin’s crown glints or the way that his eyes move. “And which qualities do you lack?”

The Prince is saved from answering when Hadwyn steps out into the hall. He grunts in approval, nodding to the faery to lead on. Jimin ignores me then, sidestepping my body to follow his guard. Hadwyn. An odd name, for such a man.

“Please.” I turn, seeing the faery motioning me inside. 

As I step through the entryway, I manage to keep my response to myself this time. After being awed by the rooms of earlier, it’s easier to do. This space is no less grand than the others, a gilded entryway leading directly into a spacious parlor. To my left lies a beautifully furnished bedroom, visible only partially through an open door.

Seeing this though, I halt. My eyes roam the space again but no, it’s a bedroom. When I turn, I spot Jimin wearing an expression of similar confusion.

“Why are we here, faery?” Jimin asks, his voice low and direct. There’s a glimmer of authority to his eyes and I begin to see signs of the Prince peeking through.

Now it’s the faery’s turn to look confused. “Is the room not to your liking, Your Highness?”

“Why would any bedroom be to my liking?” Jimin asks quietly.

The faery’s eyebrows draw together with confusion. He looks to me, as though for guidance, but I remain silent. I am also confused by this. “Has no one told you?” the faery asks hesitantly, expression oddly uncomfortable.

“Told me what,” Jimin asks flatly. It’s the first I’ve heard Jimin sound anything but cordial. Apparently, the Prince of Humankind does not like surprises.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” the faery stammers. “In the days following the Parium, both Knight and Patron train together. It builds their trust and strengthens the bond. Casting a transportation spell is rather difficult you see, so Sidhe pairs need time to gain such a level of competency.”

“How long?” I demand, slightly breathless. My head spins. How could no one have mentioned this. How could my father not have said?

“It depends,” the faery’s throat bobs. “Most Sidhe can transport within the week.”

Jimin doesn’t speak, glancing quickly in my direction. “Very well,” he inclines his head. “You may show the lady to her rooms.”

Our guide shifts then, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Your Highness,” he clears his throat. “Many of the Patrons prefer to share their quarters with their Knight. Are you sure…?” 

A flicker of shame crosses the faery’s face – even having to ask being cause for humiliation.

Jimin pales, while I struggle to contain my anger. It’s well-known the kinds of things which happen in those chambers. There’s only one reason a Patron might request to share a bedroom. Even Hadwyn, has the decency to look appalled.

“The Lady will have her own rooms.” Jimin’s voice is low, clipped. “Nearby, please – but not in my bedroom.”

His eyes flash and, slightly alarmed by the expression on the Prince’s face, our assistant scrambles to rectify the situation. “Yes, of course,” the faery nods, looking as though he wants to be anyplace but here. “Someone will escort the lady to her rooms after dinner. Is this acceptable?”

I nod, not wanting to prolong the conversation further. “That will be fine.”

The faery leaves, out the doorway as fast as he can. Surprisingly enough, Hadwyn follows. Probably not going too far, but still – it’s more than I expect.

There’s a long moment of silence, before, “I’m sorry.” Jimin doesn’t quite meet my eyes.

I look up. “What are you apologizing for?”

“For my personal life,” Jimin’s eyes flicker, “affecting our professional one.”

My stomach twists then and I don’t answer, moving instead to sit on the couch. “No harm done,” I mutter, brushing aside the twinge of annoyance which follows. He doesn’t need to apologize – the next seven years will be full of insinuations and assumptions. Getting angry at him now would be detrimental to what I need.

Jimin half-moves to the couch, then stops. He removes his crown, hovering for a second before setting it down on the table. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Fix what?” I ask, gaze lifting. “Me?”

Color flushes his cheeks, a sight I find oddly pleasing. Jimin quickly recovers though, settling himself into the chair across from me. He kicks his feet up, resting on the table. “In general,” he shrugs, before adding, “or with you, I suppose.”

My eyebrows lift. “I thought you were Prince Jimin, though – hero to women and men everywhere.”

Now it’s Jimin who raises his eyebrows, displaying a grin so beautiful, I find it necessary to look away. He laughs. “Women everywhere are not you, Y/N.” Jimin places his feet flat on the floor, leaning forward until another piece of hair falls into his eyes. 

I stay there, frozen until Jimin suddenly laughs. He pulls back, turning to the side and I exhale, scowling when I realize he’s joking. It’s not very funny to me, though. Jimin picks up a decanter, pouring himself a glass of wine. He wordlessly offers me some, but I shake my head no. I have nothing against drinking, it’s just not something a Knight does around their Patron.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Jimin takes a sip.

I look away, determined not to stare at his lips on his glass. “Not much to tell.”

“Well, I don’t believe that.”

He sounds so sure, so confident and I find myself thinking back to our first meeting. Jimin’s accent now isn’t back to that, but it’s much closer – some odd combination of royalty and drawl. I turn around to look at him. “Where are you from?” I ask, curious.

“What?” Jimin laughs, then sips. “What do you mean?”

I don’t let his amusement deter me. “Where are you from?”

“Ostia.” Jimin speaks slowly, blinking. “Surely you’ve heard of it – the capital of Humankind.”

“No,” my eyes narrow, studying him further. “You’re not from just there, are you?” Jimin’s face remains impassive, and I shrug. “Not that it matters. It’s just odd, how your accent keeps changing.”

Jimin laughs again, albeit more quietly – almost to himself. “I guess,” he murmurs, looking down. “I don’t know which version of myself to use with you.”

“What?” I frown. “You’re aware you’re doing this?”

Jimin lifts his glass. “It would be pretty odd, yes, if I couldn’t tell when my own voice was changing.”

“It would,” I manage. 

Jimin takes another sip of his wine, then laughs and I wonder if it’s a human trait. If all humans are as jovial as Jimin, but then I remember what he said. Jimin isn’t certain which version of himself to use with me. Perhaps this is a mask, just as much as my own. The Prince, versus the Knight. Despite common sense, I find myself intrigued by him – by this Prince of Humankind.

“I was born in Ostia,” Jimin explains, gesturing with his glass. It catches the light, spilling purple-red fractures across the carpet. “I spent time after in the army, mostly infantry. At the time, it was easier to pretend. Easier to be another commoner, and not a royal. Besides, understanding accents comes in handy, in my line of work.”

Infantry – odd. Most human nobility wouldn’t be caught dead serving with the workers and laymen. Smart of Jimin too, to be able to pick up on the various dialects of Humankind. Nodding slightly, I show begrudging respect.  “Understood.”

I rearrange my skirts about myself on the cushions, unsure of what else to do. I look up when I feel Jimin’s weight settle beside me. He sits closer, face mere inches from my own. I lean back. “What?”

“You’re just the first faery I’ve been this close to. I find you fascinating,” he muses, eyes sweeping my frame.

“If your intent is to study me,” I mutter. “Put me in a cage and be done with it.”

“That would be a waste.”  

I roll my eyes. “As long as you keep on paying me.”

“Ah, so it’s about the money,” Jimin sets his glass down.

“Could be,” I say. Then feel compelled to add, “But it’s not.”

“Just one thing,” Jimin insists. His eyes are dark in the setting sun, near black in color. 

I waver, considering his request. “I didn’t become Sidhe for the money.”

“No?” he asks, tapping the glass with his finger. “What about the fame?”

“A little for the fame,” I smile, a tingle crossing my spine when he laughs. “Happy?”

“Not for years.” Jimin’s smile disappears, as easily as it came. “Are most Fey poor, then? You say that as though most Fey are Sidhe for the money.”

“As the future ruler of Humankind, shouldn’t you know the answer to that question?”

Jimin shrugs, eyes dark. “I never really gave it much thought.” His silence turns inward, and I watch a frown steal across his lips.

Seeing him this way, something inside me wavers. At last I sigh, relaxing so I slide closer to him on the couch. “Magic is a part of the Fey,” I explain. “It exists deep within, and we reach for it automatically. Being cut off like we are,” I pause. “It hurts. Hurts our people, our land. Have you ever traveled through the Otherworld? Outside of Thron, I mean.”

Jimin shakes his head when I stand, walking to the window. I move partly to make a point, partly because sitting so close to Jimin makes me nervous. The sun is almost gone by now, dipped beyond the edge of the Kraine Mountains. It casts the castle in red-gold light.

“If you were to leave Thron,” I say quietly. “You would find few things as grand as this castle.” Running a finger over the sill, I notice Jimin stand from the couch. “The Fey are a dying race, even if no one wants to admit that.” I wonder then, why I’m telling him this, yet somehow I can’t bring myself to stop. “Being a Sidhe is dangerous, but at least we use magic every once and a while. That, in itself is payment.”

I’ve said too much. I can feel this in the ensuing silence, settling over the room and turning our former conversation to something more. Something heavier and I turn, giving him a halfhearted smile. My smile falters, realizing Jimin stands mere inches away from my nose.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he smiles.

I like the sound of my name on his lips. Only a few beats pass, before I find the need to look away. My thoughts are too uprooted by his vulnerability. Too confused, by the look in his eyes and it’s at that moment our assistant re-enters the room. I use this moment to take a step back, nearly tripping over the rug in the process.

If the faery notices anything about this, he doesn’t comment. “Your Highness. Lady Y/L/N. Dinner is ready in the main dining room.”

I’m the first to leave, not looking behind to see if Jimin follows. It occurs to me then, how open I’ve been. How forward I was. I failed to glean even one useful bit of information – something which should have been my main focus.

Well, that’s not true. I learned Jimin has trained with the army. The link between Humankind’s royalty and their militia appears to be strong – something which does not bode well for the Fey. This thought is worrisome, not for the least part because I only discovered this information by accident.

For the past hour, I didn’t think once of my duty. Didn’t think once of my father or my mission. Struck by this thought, I find I can’t leave Jimin’s rooms fast enough.

Dinner that night is a large affair, held in the banquet hall of Thron. Once finished, Wilfred – this turns out to be the name of our faery – escorts me to my rooms. He leaves me with a candle and change of clothing, informing me that training begins tomorrow at nine. Then I’m left alone, only my thoughts for company.

At the forefront of theses is my father. I wonder what he thinks about today’s events. We often discussed the possibility of my going to a noble family – but never the Royals. I wonder if I should contact him. Wonder if this somehow changes the plan. My heart sinks, realizing just how dangerous my task has become. No longer do I have to fool a household, but an entire country.

Slipping out of my dress, I open my wardrobe to rifle through a stack of nightgowns. My thoughts drift while I dress, inevitably landing on my Patron. Jimin. Though he might be arrogant, slightly immature – he doesn’t seem evil. My father has always insisted that human souls are one shade of black. A tainted, horrible tinge which cannot be helped, as it’s the nature of Humanity.

Meeting Jimin, I find it hard to believe this is true.

The fact that Jimin is attractive has nothing to do with it and frowning in the mirror, I try to dismiss this frivolous thought. The memory of Jimin’s eyes is hard to forget, though. Yes, I think dryly, pulling on my nightgown. For me, and for the rest of Humankind. Jimin has likely slept with all of them. The attraction I feel is purely physical, nothing but a distraction from my end goal. I am very good at ignoring distractions.

Folding my dress, I tell myself it’s just novelty. Jimin is handsome, he’s human. Anyone in my shoes would be curious. That’s what I say, anyways. It’s not like I’m in danger of feeling anything – I have Namjoon. At least – I think I do. Once Namjoon discovers who I’ve been bought by though, I know he’ll be livid. Shiver trailing my spine, I almost pity my father for having to tell him.

The thought makes me smile though, and I find myself wishing there were some way to see him. Some way to reassure Namjoon of my feelings – I suppose it’s just as well. I don’t have time for distractions. If my father were here, he’d be disappointed in me. An entire afternoon with the Prince and nothing to show. Stomach sinking, I tell myself I must do better.

“Daughter.”

The dress half-slides through my grasp as turn, so quick, my braid whips my throat. “Father!” I gasp, struggling to control my breathing. “You scared me.”

As though conjured by the thought of him, my father steps into the room. Moving into the light while I realize he’s dressed to leave, dark traveling cloak tied in a knot around his neck. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” he sighs, looking about the room in approval. “Better than any other Sidhe Knight.” There’s something like pride in his tone.

I squint back, only one thing sticking in my mind. “You’ve seen the other Sidhe?”

“Only briefly.” My father smiles in a way which doesn’t invite further questioning. “Congratulations on the Parium, daughter.”

I reach down to touch the waist of my dress. “Thank you. I know this Patron provides us with tremendous opportunity.” I hope he can see that, though I don’t ask, I need his help. I feel lost, overwhelmed by the burden of responsibility.

“Ah, yes.” A smile tugs my father’s lips. “Being purchased by the Prince was an outcome we didn’t dare dream of, did we?” He nods. “It’s an opportunity we would be remiss to waste. We planned on you being a Sidhe Knight – whether it was to the lowest noble, or the Prince himself. We proceed with the plan as is.”

“There’s a difference, though,” I cross my arms. “Fooling one human, versus fooling a country. I don’t know I’m ready.”

My father closes the distance between us. When he places his hand upon my arm, it’s almost a fatherly gesture. The warmth in his eyes surprises me. “None of us ever feel ready, Y/N,” he speaks quietly. “That doesn’t change what needs to be done.”

Before I can respond to this, he turns away. Tightening his cloak further and walking towards the door. “The task remains the same,” he sighs. “You must train hard. Gain the Prince’s trust. Though your job may not be the most glamorous,” he glances backwards. “It is the most important. We reply on you to understand how these humans think. A single weak spot could break the chain. One man can change the tide of battle.”

“Battle?” I repeat, slightly dazed.

“Everything is a battle,” my father allows. He shakes his head then, changing direction. “Whatever you do, don’t trust them. Don’t trust him.”

My eyes widen then, wondering why he says this. I flush, examining the possibility that he knows. Knows of my indecision, knows my doubts since the happenings of the Parium. Since meeting Jimin.  

“Humans are experts at getting what they want,” my father continues, eyebrows raised. “Even more dangerous – they don’t know what they want. Take your Patron, the Prince,” he mutters, gesturing out the window.

When he walks away I follow, somewhat reluctantly. We peer down into the gardens and my heart sinks, seeing what he does. A young Fey girl, sat in the middle of the row. She’s collapsed on a stone bench, knees drawn up into her skinny frame. Even from here, I can see her shoulders shake. She’s crying, softly and I turn away from the sight.

“You see,” my father continues, watching from above. “The Prince might seem harmless, and perhaps he is. He’s careless, though, they all are. Human beings have moments of lucidity, but they’re swiftly forgotten at the sight of the next thing.” 

Bitterness tinges his words, twisting him to something much darker.  

“This is why,” he continues, turning, “human beings are unworthy of magic. This is why they’re unfit to rule. They’re so consumed by themselves, so unable to think beyond the now, they cannot lead. This must stop, Y/N.”

His words solidify me, as I return his gaze unflinchingly. My father is not wrong. Didn’t I say earlier, how Jimin’s reputation was notorious? Recounting my earlier actions, I feel a sudden sense of shame. If my father notices, he doesn’t seem surprised. I wonder if he already knew, somehow. Already knew I was having doubts when he came to see me. Possibly.

“You’re right,” I affirm, speaking aloud. “It must stop.”

“For the good of the many,” my father murmurs in agreement, turning to leave.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed by him leaving and I call out, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Let’s say I do find something of importance,” I allow, uncrossing my arms. “What next?”

“Speak my name,” my father nods, looking back. “I will hear.”

Then he disappears, leaving me staring at an empty room. I turn – moving my gaze to the window. Calling out his name makes no sense. I bend, picking up my dress from where it dropped to the floor. As I brush the dust aside, my thoughts turn to frustration. Frustration, at the continual non-answers my father gives.

It makes me angry, his lack of trust. My father only tells me what I have to know, only enough to succeed and nothing more. I am to infiltrate Humankind, report back. There must be more though – must be a larger picture, that only my father knows. I suppose he thinks it’s safer for me not to know. It would be a risk if I did, having the spy understand.

It’s maddening to me, though. How can I be expected to give up everything – all of myself, for a plan I only know part of? My father speaks of war, he speaks of battle. Something I know nothing of. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking for, once I reach Humankind. Am I searching for tactical knowledge? Psychological? Does he want me to report back on how, exactly Jimin eats his breakfast, saddles his horses? Should I have slept in the same room with him? That would have garnered Jimin’s trust, surely.

A shiver runs down my spine at this thought though, and I push this aside. Even my father, for all his dedication, would never ask that of me. Would never expect me to dishonor myself, for harm to come to me in the name of the cause. I think. It’s the doubt though, the doubt which eats at my certainty. Then of course, there are the little things. The worries which nag me, whispering quietly in the back of my mind.

Tiny things I never considered before now. Things like my father, knowing my rooms are the largest. Or how he suggested we communicate. It’s impossible for the Fey to hear each other over long distances, not without the help of human beings. Which begs the question – how will my father hear, once I speak my name?

Throwing my dress aside, I exhale. Riddles, on top of riddles, on top of riddles. My eyes drift shut trying to block out today’s burdens. What I need to do is focus. To take things one day, one moment at a time. That’s how I’ll make it through.

Opening my eyes though, my thoughts continue to play on in a broken loop. I cross to the window again and peer outside, but the girl is gone. My stomach sinks. I wanted to help, somehow. The bench outside is empty. Wind whistling through hedges, as though she never existed in the first place.

Returning to bed, I climb beneath the covers. It bothers me more than I care to admit, how careless Jimin was. That girl must have been the one in my dressing room, I realize. The act was careless. Careless, playing with someone’s heart like that. Recklessness which borders on malice.

My stomach drops, realizing here is my proof. Here is the certainty that all human beings are evil. My father’s views appear at once, both valid and necessary. As I blow out the candle, I slide further beneath my covers and try to feel vindicated by this.

My father is right. I am right. This course is right.

That night though, I dream of tears. A river, which turns to blood at my feet.

[Master List]

[ladystylestores]

Homecoming S2: The most fun you’ll have with an evil company this spring

Enlarge / Name? Date of birth? Home address? “I don’t know.”

YouTube/Amazon Prime

Warning: This story references happenings from Homecoming S1 but tries to avoid any major spoilers for FX’s Devs and the new second season of Homecoming.

Sometimes Hollywood at large seems to embrace the infamous Google strategy: make two of everything and see what sticks. Who recently asked for twin dog-as-best-friend-but-end-of-life tearjerkers? And did audiences need dual “Nikola Tesla races to make electricity” biopics starring beloved heartthrobs? (In a world where The Prestige already exists, probably not.)

This spring, streaming TV got in on this strategy, too. A pair of shows centered on secretive, shady startups—companies doing almost otherworldly things that piqued government interest but really complicated an employee’s life—each arrived with star-boasting casts and filmmaking pedigrees behind the camera. Like a dutiful TV reviewer, I watched the first four episodes of both series. Despite each having oodles of style, one felt opaque and unnecessarily complex, like piecing together a puzzle without knowing what the full picture was at the start.

And the other is Amazon’s Homecoming, which hits Prime with seven new episodes this weekend. (Apologies to FX’s Devs, which I’ll likely never finish.)

Janelle Monáe stars in Homecoming season 2, coming soon to Amazon Prime.

Still stylish

Though Homecoming lost some high profile talent ahead of S2—Julia Roberts’ character doesn’t appear and Sam Esmail did not direct any of these episodes—you wouldn’t call this show depleted after watching this new run of episodes. In her first starring TV role, Janelle Monáe is as captivating as ever. She plays a woman named Jackie who is struggling to remember how precisely she ended up alone and passed out on a boat in the middle of a remote lake. And instead of Bobby Cannavale representing our main corporate cog for the Geist behemoth, Hong Chau (the actor behind Lady Trieu of Watchmen) reprises her role as Audrey. Her corporate exec of few words was last seen as a pseudo-big bad at the very end of S1, but she gets fleshed out quite a bit here.

Jackie’s journey and the dynamic between Jackie and Audrey might be the most thrilling parts of these new episodes, similar to how the conversations between Roberts and Stephan James as Walter ended up as S1’s most riveting part. The only disadvantage for Chau and Monáe comes from circumstance: Roberts and James had the benefit of Geist’s overall product and scheme being a mystery that our two main characters learned and navigated together with the audience. This time around, audiences have a lot more info, taking away a bit of the show’s intrigue and tension. If story felt secondary at times to the performances for you in S1, that dynamic will be amplified here.

The chemistry between its leads, of course, was only half of Homecoming’s initial appeal. Mr. Robot creator Sam Email had generously applied his small screen cinematic lens, using different aspect ratios, lens filters, and a robust palette of ’70s film homages. New director Kyle Patrick Alvarez did previous work on Starz’ visually inventive Counterpart, so he appears to have the chops to carry over some of S1’s same visual language (with the emphasis on “some,” given how inventive Esmail has always been). For Alvarez, S2’s premier in particular feels delightfully Hitchcock-ian, as Jackie at times seems engulfed by large pines or encased in a spooky motel straight out of Twin Peaks.

As for the story unfolding in these episodes, well, that’s where Devs comes in.

Janelle Monáe stars as a mysterious woman who wakes up in a rowboat on a lake with no memory of who she is.

Geist Emergent Group, the company behind the Homecoming Initiative, might be involved.

YouTube/Amazon Prime

Stephan James reprises his S1 role as Walter Cruz.

YouTube/Amazon Prime

Also back: S1’s Audrey (Hong Chau), an assistant at Geist Emergent Group.

YouTube/Amazon Prime

Remember that S1 post-credits scene? It’s relevant to S2.

YouTube/Amazon Prime

The memory-erasing drug is gearing up for mass production, it seems.

YouTube/Amazon Prime

Chris Cooper plays Leonard Geist, who begins to have doubts about his company’s business.

YouTube/Amazon Prime

Prestige isn’t the point

Understanding the plot of Homecoming S2 absolutely requires a “previously on” montage. Rather than Shea Wigham detectiving into a new case (sidebar: nothing ever improves by losing Shea Wigham), these episodes revolve around the same basic happenings—just from new perspectives. We’re again watching the Geist signature product being cultivated and applied, the government still contracts with them to do unsavory things, Walter Cruz still endures some less-than-ideal circumstances.

As such, any mysteries (like, why is Janelle Monáe left out to sea again?) are a bit narrower in comparison to S1. We’re not watching plot gain momentum toward a grand conclusion; we’re largely learning about more of the plot’s mechanics, the stuff previously in the background.

This sounds bland when you spell it out like that, but some of the best television shows in recent memory have deployed this basic concept to an extent. Watchmen gave viewers multiple perspectives of the same events in consecutive episodes; Better Call Saul is entirely about the mechanics of how one bad guy lawyer grew into his sleeze. Homecoming is not of the same caliber, but this show knows the story it’s telling and commits to exploring it from new angles. S2 has a confined plot and commits to revealing it stylishly, succinctly (with this and I Am Not Okay With This, half-hour drama remains my favorite bingeable format), and with new likable characters. (In addition to Jackie and Audrey, Geist himself makes an appearance, played by Chris Cooper of “rage-y neighbor in American Beauty” fame.) This season ain’t cracking TV’s Mount Rushmore or Alan Sepinwall’s Top 20 of 2020, but it’s thoroughly enjoyable (think more Stranger Things S2 than Mr. Robot S2). 

That bit of reflection kept taking my mind back to Devs. TV critics generally seemed smitten by that show’s ambition and perplexed by how small Homecoming has set out to be in S2, but I’ve come away feeling the opposite. Devs’ hourlong episodes could be a slog, as the show didn’t seem to know whether it cared more about the kinetic personal action (our “hero” employee trying to get the upper hand and figure out her sinister employer) or about some possibly magical machine with greater philosophical implications. The former is the stuff that kept you going through early episodes, but the latter had so much time devoted to it that you couldn’t help but feel “this must be the point” even as the series didn’t seem to understand how to translate it for everyone sticking with the show. So after four episodes, I stopped, and no “oh, you have to stick it out ’til the finale!” rationale could suck me back in.

Homecoming, on the other hand, never feels overly weighty or chore-ish. The defined focus and faster run time (you could watch all of Homecoming’s two seasons in roughly the same amount of time as Devs’ one) means no sequences feel obviously aimless or like filler. The show has presented what Geist is doing as fact without some mind-occupying takeaway, so instead the series stays most interested in the action. After four episodes, I wanted to see how everything played out and had to stop myself from just “play next”-ing through the whole thing. (Amazon outlined a number of things reviewers couldn’t reveal, and it seemed a number of those things cluster in the season’s second half—temptation avoided.)

To borrow the Hollywood twins analogy once more, one of these evil corporation shows aimed for prestige glory and ended up as The Equalizer. The other knew it wanted to be a competent b-movie the whole time and delivered John Wick. And if being parked on my couch looking for a new show to watch mid-pandemic has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes it’s OK to put the pressure for ambitious greatness on hold for a minute and just enjoy something. As you’d expect, Janelle Monáe guarantees a certain base level of that.

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