#Maybe I should do the Baron's staff at some point...

[littlewritingrabbit]

i just finished watching the lotr trilogy, so how do you think an amrev or lams au would work there?

Oh boy.

Ooooohh boyy.

So here’s what I’m thinking.

Many years after the War of the Ring, Aragorn decides to send a group of ambassadors from various places around Middle Earth to Harad to make peace with their generals, because they were a pretty significant force in the War and it would be better to have them on his side in case anyone as dangerous as Sauron ever shows up again. The people he chooses for this quest are:

Santir Belegion (George Washington)*: a man of Gondor, and the steadfast and hardworking Captain of the Guard. He is the leader of the quest, and while he’s still working on the whole diplomacy thing, he’s brilliant at strategy and can be relied upon to get everyone there in one piece.

Gilbert Brandybuck (the Marquis de Lafayette): a hobbit from Buckland who grew up on his relative Meriadoc Brandybuck’s stories of adventure and moved to Gondor when he came of age. Everyone in Gondor assumes he’s some kind of hobbit-prince (as they did with Merry and Pippin) and if it means they’ll keep letting him practice fencing and attending important courtly meetings, he’s not about to correct them. 

Beriadan Aphadonion (Alexander Hamilton)*: a Dúnedain ranger who grew up in the North with his mother, until she went to protect Gondor in the War of the Ring and died in battle. It was then that he found out that his father was actually an elf from Rivendell, and his father’s relations brought him in, so he’s very book-smart but also a bit unused to courtly ceremony. 

Rania Turumélamaryon (John Laurens)*: a young Elf lord of Mirkwood, young enough that he wasn’t allowed to fight in the War of the Ring, and he’s still mad about it. His father wants him to be married to Arbrennil Hirgwaedhiel (Martha Manning)* to create a tie between their families (which had, until recently, had a feud spanning several lifetimes, but that’s another story). Rania, however, has no wish to be married, and so he runs away to Gondor to join the quest as an ambassador and buy himself some time. 

Strangcyning of the Mead (Richard Kidder Meade)*: a lord of Rohan, and a great horseman. His father, having fought the Haradrim and their Mumakil in his day isn’t so keen on him going to make peace with them, but Strangcyning is going anyways. 

Mack-Henry Baggins (James McHenry): a doctor from Hobbiton who travelled to Gondor to study in the Houses of Healing and then the quest needed a doctor so… there he is! He’s good friends with Gilbert and is a little out of his element on such a grand quest but having a good time. 

Harromur Inksmith (Robert Harrison)*: a Dwarf scribe from Erebor who came to Gondor to read in their great libraries and then sort of got caught up being an impromptu-ambassador for Erebor and liked the job. He’s the one recording their journey and also the dad-friend. 

Brimhlast, son of Folgere (Tench Tilghman)*: a merchant from Dale, he travelled to Gondor seeking his fortune after his shop burned down, and because of his translation skills and ability to be very persuasive, he was offered a place in the quest. He knows the most about boats, which I think could come in handy. 

Check under the cut for why the names are the way they are… I had fun with them :))

*But littlewritingrabbit! This doesn’t sound at all like “George Washington”! I know. But the name George means “farmer,” so I used the Sindarin word “sant” or “garden” (I couldn’t find “farmer” so I went with something close) with “-ir” on the end to make it more like a name. Because naming conventions dictate that people’s last names are their father’s name plus “son,” I took Augustine (George Washington’s dad’s name) which means “respected” or “great” which is “beleg” in Sindarin, and then “-ion” at the end because that means “son-of” so you see it does really say “George Washington,” just… badly translated into Sindarin :)

*Following the same format, “Alexander” means “protector of men” so “beria” meaning “protect” plus “adan” meaning “men” gives you “beriadan” and then Hamilton’s father’s name was James, which means “one who follows” so “aphadon” meaning “follower” plus “-ion” meaning “son-of” gives you “aphadonion” and voila! 

*Should I have given him a Quenya name? Probably not, I don’t think Elves usually have Quenya names, but this is the Pretentious Laurens Family we’re talking about here! Anyways, as “John” means “God is gracious” I just took the Quenya word for “gracious” or “kind” which is “rania” for his first name. “Henry” means “home-ruler” so I took “turu-” which is “conquer” or “have victory over” and “mélamar” which is “home” plus “-yon” which is son, and there we go. 

*I made her name mean “noble-lady” and then “lord-oath-daughter” considering “Martha” means “lady” and “Elizabeth” (her mother’s name) means “my-God-is-an-oath.”

*The Rohirrim have Anglo-Saxon names and no last-names, so since “Richard” means “strong-in-rule” I figured “strong-king” would be close. It’s probably worth noting that you pronounce “cyning” like “kyoo-ning” I think? Also “Mead” used to mean “meadow” so I’m keeping that there ‘cause it’s fitting. 

*Dwarves don’t tell anyone their names in Khuzdul, so I dunno what his real name is, but I’m guessing it’s got something to do with the meaning “bright” because that’s what “Robert” means. The Dwarf names we do know just sound kinda Norse so I made his name sound kinda Norse and then plus a surname that indicates his profession is being a scribe.

*This is SO fitting given that “Tench” originally meant a type of fish and he’s from Dale, but anyways, “brim-hlæst” is Anglo-Saxon for “the sea’s burden” like, lots of fish, which I think sounds cool. Tench’s father’s name is James, which means “one who follows” so I just used “folgere” or “follower” and that was that!

[scuttle-buttle]

Young Folks

Baron on the Run series

Summary: Zemo takes you shopping and you decide it’s time to have a little fun with your Baron.        

Pairing: zemo x plus size fem reader

Word count: ~1.3k

Rating: Mature, mildly suggestive and depictions of lingerie but no actual smut

Tags: fem!reader, plus size reader, fupa (is that a tag?), cuteness, slight age difference, sugar daddy zemo, suggestive language, domestic, self confidence, tik tok trash, bad german

____________________________________________________________________

You should've known you'd end up in this position at some point. Seven weeks since leaving Riga and you had worn everything in your bag more than probably socially acceptable. Even the Baron resorted to wearing the classic jacket-and-ballcap look to be less conspicuous at times, only at your insistence. The fitting room you currently occupied was looking more like a tornado had blown through it than a person. Helmut insisted that you pick out a variety. Dresses, blouses, sweaters, and pants lined the walls and bench within the room. You glanced in the mirror. The jeans you had on fit like a second skin. They should for the price of them, you thought. Helmut did say he wanted to treat you - "for you, anything mein liebe."

The two of you had been in the shop for nearly an hour now. The staff followed the Baron likpuppies, placing all the items you chose into the fitting room for you. Helmut insisted you try on anything and everything that struck your eye. By now you were on outfit 14. 15 maybe? You lost count. “I really think we should have some sort of fashion show montage music playing. Really set the mood.”

Opening the door to show Zemo, you couldn't help but notice how his gaze slid up the length of your legs before settling on the curve of your ass. He only broke away when you spoke. "I really like these high waisted ones much better than the lower cut. Gotta contain the ‘fupa’ - keep that bad boy in," you laughed. You turned, wiggling your hips as you showed off the jeans.

Blinking once, Helmut cocked his head to the side, "contain the…. What?"

“The ‘fupa’.” The clueless look remained on his face, eyebrows scrunched. Oh he’s so adorable when he’s confused. Putting him out of his misery you gesture to the lower pouch of your stomach. “That’s what all the kids are calling it these days,” you explain, trying to sound cultured.

“I see…. It appears I am quite behind on what is considered young and ‘hip’ now.”

“Years in a maximum security prison will do that to you. Don’t worry - I’ll catch you up, old man,” you wink before closing the dressing room door.

Shimmying out of the jeans you pick the next item to try on. Leggings and a purple knit sweater; simple and comfy. You ready yourself to show Helmut, but when you open the door he’s no longer seated on the chair he previously occupied. Shrugging, you admire yourself in the 3-faced mirror along the wall. The sweater emphasizes the curves you like while hiding those you don’t.

Two outfits later and still no Helmut; you begin to worry that something is wrong. Opening the door once more you clutch at your chest in shock. He’s leaning on the doorframe, a sly smile on his face. “Jesus, Helmut - you nearly gave me a heart attack! Where’ve you been I was getting worried?” You glance down at the movement of his arm.

“I was on a mission,” he shrugged, his smirk never fading. Holding out the pieces of material, you see exactly what kept him from you. Sets of lace, ribbons, and straps were placed in your hands. Lingerie. “I have kept your preference for the high waisted, as you said you are more fond of it. Although, I would love you in anything…. Or nothing.” Your face heats under his stare. Turning to close the door, Helmut called out a “don’t be long now, liebling.”

Looking through the options you decided on the simple off-white babydoll and panty set first. Although quite transparent, you admired how delicate you felt. White was not always the most flattering color for someone trying to hide the softness of their body, but if Helmut picked it out there must be a reason. You certainly did look angelic. “Meine engel,” you could imagine him saying.

Next you grab a navy blue teddy. The mesh is covered in small polka dots of the same blue, featuring a sweetheart neckline, cinched waist, and cheeky backside. The cut felt vintage; add red lip and you could be a real pinup girl. As much as you wanted to show Helmut you didn’t think the shop owner would appreciate you traipsing around half-nude.

The last set you reach for is a deep purple. The same color as his mask, of course, you think. Three pieces make it up. Taking a minute to ensure each strap is correctly in place, you nearly gasp when you see yourself in the mirror. A balconette bustier presses your ample breasts up and inward in an obscene manner. Garter belt, sans stockings, clasped around your middle accentuates the narrowest part of your thick waist. The thong sits high on your wide hips, the globes of your backside on full display. You should feel entirely exposed. Instead you feel like an absolute goddess draped in his color. His goddess.

“I hope there is good reason for you to keep me waiting, schatz.” Zemo calls from the chair outside.

“Ye-yeah, I’ll be done in a minute,” you call out, not yet ready to leave the bubble you’ve found yourself in. Deciding that you don’t want to leave it, you find the next best solution. Ripping the price tag off the set you have on, you redress in the clothes you wore to the shop, all while leaving the lingerie underneath. You stuff your boring undergarments in your oversized purse and grab the items you are purchasing.

“I trust you found something you liked?” Helmut inquired, a hand on your back as he led you to the register.

“I did,” came your flippant reply.

Reaching the register you placed your items down before handing the removed price tag directly to the cashier with a smile. The Baron’s brow raised at the action for a moment before connecting the dots. A huff left his nose at the realization of which piece was missing from the pile, and thus where that set currently was. You ignored the way his heated stare bore holes into you.

Finishing the transaction, Helmut grabbed the bags before leading you out of the shop. Leaning in you placed a sweet kiss to his cheek, a whispered “thank you daddy,” in his ear.

“We should return home.” Helmut stood rigid, his pupils blown as he regarded you. The faint pressure of a growing hardness pressed into your hip. It was easy to guess what was on his mind.

Uh uh. That won’t do. You wanted to see him suffer. As much as he teased you the last few weeks with everything he did you wanted a taste of the action. To make him have to think about what you have underneath your clothes. About your body wrapped in his color. About all the things he wants to do to you but can’t. You decide to pretend not to notice his current predicament. Innocently as possible, you whine “already? I’m not done yet, I really wanted to visit the little bookstore up the block. And then I figured we could go get a cup of tea - I can catch you up on what us young folk are up to these days! Someone needs to educate you, so we might as well get to it!”

“Oh I’ll show you what is up, schatz,” Helmut growls.

You give him your best puppy dog look before he sighs. Pulling away from you to compose himself, you begin your journey to the bookstore, biting your lip in satisfaction. “Come on, boomer!” you yell. Zemo trails behind.

“I am in trouble…” he mumbles to himself.

[vivifrage]

(This one is a Siriks Lives He Just Got Captured AU because @shadowtriad endeared me to him and now this catboy lives rent-free in my brain. I hope I got him right.)

4: Taken Hostage

The days stretched on, indiscriminate, in the cell.

They were interrupted sometimes, but he couldn’t say when in the day it was, or whether it was in the same day, another day after, a week after, what. The Exo had tried to bring a clock, show him the time once or twice at least, but the clock had been whisked away shortly after she left, and Earth timekeeping without the sun to double-check was a headache on top of his current, overarching, already massive headache.

How Eramis had withstood decades of this, he didn’t know. Whether she had recognized all the years passing, how much she missed, until she stepped outside into a changed world, he didn’t want to think about.

In comparison, he’d barely been in here (he knew that, at least), and he was already considering sneaking another one of the snacks the Exo had left him. The first had been good, but they’d been brought as some sort of… pity offering by the being who by all rights should have killed him, instead humiliating and dishonoring him like this. But his stomach was starting to ache, and he didn’t know when food would come next.

Maybe he would simply bite the next person to enter the cell.

The Exo was a relatively frequent visitor, so calm even when he growled and bared his teeth. (She’d laughed at that, once. Just a short burble of a noise. It was the first time he bit her, teeth scraping against her armored forearm. He hadn’t been able to open his left front eye for a while after she punched him for it.) She was likely, but biting her wasn’t even worth the revenge for capturing him.

Other Lightbearers stopped by sometimes. Usually they just hovered around the edges while someone else - staff, interrogators, what have you - worked, and put on their most threatening face. If he didn’t know what they were, he would have laughed at the little dolls trying to look scary. As it was, he kept his face hidden behind an arm when he snarled back.

Then, perhaps worst of all, was the House of Light. Usually one of their Splicers, gauntlet snap-snap-snapping over their arms, asking question after question. Or, at times, a Captain, much more blunt and to the point. Always accompanied by their Scribe. She rarely spoke, asking whoever she was with to clarify something or another, and listening to just that had made it plenty clear that she was young, hardly finished growing. But she scribbled note after note, hadn’t backed down at all after the first time he lunged for her, and when he’d looked her in the eyes, something uncomfortable settled in his stomach. He couldn’t place it, but it left him on edge until the Exo visited again.

...That would work. Bring the House’s meager nobility down a bit. Busy the Sacred Splicer, so-called Kell of Light, with worrying over his baby rather than getting in anyone’s way.

Said Kell hadn’t even bothered visiting his prisoner in person. Maybe he did have a more sadistic side, and was waiting for him to be thoroughly infuriated and ashamed with himself before coming in to dock him.

He didn’t know how much longer he sat there, seated on a bed sized for Humans, the couple of scruffy blankets he had piled in a poor excuse for a nest at his feet. He toyed with one of the snacks, listening to the wrapper crinkle, and ignored the hunger building in his gut.

But eventually, the door clicked and his head snapped up, fixated on it. He shoved the snack back into its hiding spot, crossing his hands over his lap. Watching, waiting, to see who came in the door this time.

It opened a crack, enough for him to hear Eliksni voices. So the House of Light again. Bringing question after question, no doubt, or maybe some new trick to dig into his memories and see what he knew. He growled, low in his throat.

He was definitely biting the Scribe. At this point, just for the grim glee of seeing her and whoever she came with squeal.

It opened more, just enough to admit, yep, the Scribe, as bundled up as she always was, like she’d spent so much time among Humans and their ilk that she was trying to hide what she was. Poorly, considering her secondary arms and the glow of her eyes, but still.

“It’s fine. It’s just to talk-” She turned to him and dipped her head. “Hello, Siriks- We’ll see how things go.”

A much deeper voice rumbled behind her, and a new hand replaced hers on the door, pushing it wide open. In the doorway stood a taller Eliksni wearing a purple mask, glowing lines tracing around his form. He kept two hands on the Scribe’s shoulders, kneading away. “If you need me for anything, I am right here.”

“Yes, I know. I’ll see you.” The Scribe gently pried his hands off her, turning so her back was to him, and stepped into the room. Nervous confidence filled her short form, keeping her head high and chest puffed but her limbs close to her chest, clutching her tablet like a weapon.

With a hand wielding a Splicer’s gauntlet, the other Eliksni tapped under his eyes, shooting Siriks a sharp glare.

The door closed, leaving him alone with the Scribe and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Shit. Shit. Fuck him.

That was her father, wasn’t it? Standing right outside the door, ready to rush in if anything went awry.

And he knew, he had been told, the Scribe of House Light’s father was its Kell.

Oh, he was fucked every which way.

If he did so much as make her shout a little too loud, sound a little too angry or afraid, he was dead. No chance to appeal, no chance to argue that he still knew things they didn’t (not that he would give them up, but it would buy him time to try and escape), no chance to even apologize for upsetting her. The Kell didn’t have to answer to any authority save perhaps the Vanguard, and he could lie to them. Whatever he wanted to justify killing him on the spot.

“I don’t think I ever introduced myself.” The Scribe startled him, suddenly just out of arm’s reach. Close enough to be caught if he lunged, but her father was right there. She didn’t even seem to care, instead picking around at her thick, woolly cowl. “I am Eido. I’m sure you gathered that I am the Scribe of the House of Light.”

Perhaps it was for the best she already knew his name. It was like someone had tied a knot in his throat, and the only thing that could escape would be a growl.

She sighed; she wasn't even looking at him any more, too busy fiddling with the tie keeping her cowl and hood in shape. "I hope you don't mind if I take this off. It's warm, but if I didn't know better I'd swear someone wove prickles into it."

She met his eye, and said, deadpan, "To be honest, if you do have an opinion on it, that's your problem, not mine."

He managed to chuff. Oh, the Scribe thought she had some backbone to her, didn't she? Speaking like that to a Devils Baron. No wonder. She looked like she might be getting a Captain's Ether rations, when by all rights, at her age she would just be getting promoted to a Vandal. Provided she had the skill and tenacity to back up that overinflated ego.

"Anyways," she said, finally undoing the tie. The cowl slackened, the hood slipping back enough to reveal a lock of coarse, dark brown hair. She continued to unwind the length of fabric, folding it over her arm as she worked. "I do not plan to interrogate you as the others did. I'm here in my duty as House Scribe, not a notetaker. Which means understanding all involved points of view. Yours included."

The fabric fell away, and she stared back at him, barefaced. "If you will work with me, that is."

He couldn't answer. He couldn't breathe.

There was no mistaking it. The eyes alone were easy enough to dismiss; a greyish blue was nothing spectacular. But the shape of her brow, her nose, jawline, mandibles, it all flowed together into a face he swore he saw in old pictures. The color of her skin and shell were almost an exact match, too. And her hair, wrangled into a thick braid - he could almost feel the coarse, ridiculously voluminous texture under his hands, hear ghosts of conversations marked with banter and dramatic stories. Not to mention her stature, the sound of her voice - now that he saw, it all added up.

He had seen one of her siblings, when he'd been able to search the wreckage. Trapped under dented metal, lower body crushed.

Late one night, decades later, Eramis had whispered to him about the other two, the ones they had never found and who must have died long ago. Including a little girl who looked just like her, and had a patch of thick, dark hair, trying to be fluffy even while egg-damp.

And she was standing right there, alive and well. Still the spitting image of her mother.

He had grieved for her and her siblings. He knew all too well the ways of war, he knew they were at risk. But that didn't change how his heart had sung seeing the eggs in their nest on the Sepiks-Fel. It didn't change how he had cradled them while he sat in the dark, shining a light through their shells to illuminate the dark, growing forms within. It didn't change how he had cheered them on when they wriggled and kicked while he watched, and traced a knuckle along the eggshell to see when they started responding. One had reached out once, when he did that. Had it been her? Was she the one who had pawed at the inside of her shell with a scrawny, underdeveloped hand, her egg the only thing between her and his palm cupped around where she patted?

Maybe it was. It was a one in three chance, after all, that it was her. Two in three that it had been one of her siblings, killed in the crash.

And she stared at him, unknowing. Stepped closer, close enough he could catch her scent and erase any lingering doubts in his mind.

It was her.

He was supposed to be her father.

He choked back a raging storm of conflicting feelings. Deep, white-hot rage that she had been taken from him, that he had gone all these years with her, her siblings, and her mother ripped away all at once. She should have grown up cradled in his arms, raised to be a proud Devil. He should have sung her to sleep, taught her everything he knew, taken her onto his crew.

But at the same time, she was alive and well. Cared for, educated, given such a notable rank. If she had ever suffered for anything, he didn't see any sign of it. And, all right, he doubted Misraaks would have taught her any sort of unpleasant biting tricks.

She was still the Scribe of House Light. She had still stood there, watched, and taken her notes through interrogation after interrogation.

But now she stood within arms reach, painfully familiar, the father who raised her waiting just outside while the father-who-could-have-been, the father-who-should-have-been, sat before her, imprisoned.

He swallowed down the keen rising in his throat. He couldn't even tell her.

[prince-toffee]

Villains

Part One

Hordak’s heavy steps echoed across the hallways as he marched alongside four rows of his personal guards, his most skilled and deadliest warriors, two rows on his left and two on his right. In their hands they firmly gripped stun-batons and stun-staffs. Hordak himself had no weapon except for his own bare hands, enhanced by his exo-skeleton armour, plating coating his chest, cables coiled around his thin weak arms, like a secondary thick layer of muscles, and metal boots enhancing his speed. The symbol of the red wings of the vampire were painted onto every armour of every soldier of the Horde.

The reason why Hordak had gathered his guard and set off to the Black Garnet Chamber was because of an act of treachery, and betrayal. Shadow Weaver had taken up the sword against him, so to speak. The clone lord had employed the sorceress for her professional and prideful knowledge of magic arts and his own lack of such knowledge. He was far more of a man of science, he knew things about space and machinery no one else on Etheria did. Well maybe one person did, this Entrapta seemed to be more of Hordak’s speed. He did not know much about the Princess of Dryl, but she seemed bright, she was a rare blessing among the people of the planet he was trapped on. She was a scientist, a true scientist, very little of those on Etheria. Her language he could understand. She was the only person that could hold a proper conversation with him, that was something he quite enjoyed, even though they had only spoken once or twice.

She was one of the hostages Shadow Weaver was holding in the chamber room. The other hostages frozen in place by her dark magic included both Force-Captain Scorpia, recently assigned to that division for her professional expertise to help increase efficiency, and Force-Captain Catra to whom the ex-Scorpion-Princess was assigned to as Catra seemed easily distracted, unfocused, and strangely obsessed with her archenemy. Hordak remembered appointing the Magicat the new Force-Captain, it was in their first interaction. He remembered Shadow Weaver dragged her ward into his throne room hopeing to embarrass and berate and insult her, Hordak didn’t care about such pettiness. From what he understood they were one Force-Captain down, as one of Weaver’s wards had deserted the Horde. So he simply appointed the second best fitting candidate, the records and grades claimed that even though Catra was the most absent and late person on the team, when she decided to show up she showed she was skilled in combat, strategy-crafting, leading, and thinking outside the box. She seemed right for the pick.

Hordak always had a sneaking suspicion that there would come a day when Shadow Weaver would try to betray him, but he had hoped that their promise of mutual destruction would have prevented the either from crossing the line. Weaver needed to leech off of other sources to survive, she usually resorted to people in her earlier days before bowing in front of the Horde and Hordak, afterwards she only needed the Garnet. Hordak had given Entrapta the go-ahead to study and use the Garnet in any way she wished as her experiments seemed to increase the overall efficiency of the Horde. Shadow Weaver didn’t like that. She choose to fight back.

Hordak and his soldiers reached the door leading to the Garnet Chamber. The young general reached out with his claw hand, his greyish-blue talon pressed a green button, waiting for the button to instruct the metallic door to slide up. Before the door itself could open up the metal slab burst open and peeled back like a banana, a black and crimson shadow claw grabbed him. It’s own talons tightened around him forcing out a scream from him. And he was yanked inward into the chamber, he fell onto the cold floor, or at least it should have been cold, but it was getting hotter, no doubt due to the electrical magic expelled by the dark sorceress.

He growled. Before he could get up onto his own two feet the darkness latched onto him, flinging him up into the ceiling, forcing him to crash against various wiring and cables that dislodged and fell down with him. He began to breath heavily as pain shot throw his body.

The troops moved forward to engage, but were frozen by Weaver’s magic almost immediately, like the two Force-Captains and Princess on the side, all simply looked on in fear as the Mysticore witch overpowered the Lord of the Horde. Tendrils of magic wrapping around his frame, tightening and crushing both him and his suit. He got a few good hits off on the woman, one punch braking a shadow construct, the second punch making contact with the witch and the impact threw her across the room. He knocked the wind out of her, that slowed her down as she tried to catch her breath. Bent over, eyes down, hands on her knees, she didn’t see another fist flying in her direction. The hit shattered her mask, pieces of the mask, spit and a single red droplet flew into the opposite direction of the punch. Luckily all the teeth were intact. That got her real angry.

The dark woman drew back her arm, a small black sphere appeared a few centimetres above her palm, red veins of electricity crackled around her hand and the sphere grew to the size of a bowling ball in seconds. And from it shot out a beam of black that hit Hordak directly in his chest. The pain and sensation it inflicted apon Hordak was indescribable, cold like the vacuum of space, while simultaneously burning like being in a whirlwind of a wildfire. He was pushed up against a wall and the dark beam kept him in place, the black mass spread across his body like a thick dense clay. The cold and the burning spread with it. His deep screams and yells increased in volume. Pain like a thousand knives stabbing his nerves.

“We had a deal! You stay out of my way and I stay out of yours! Simple! The Garnet is mine! No one else will touch it!” The black and red mass coiled and spiked, Hordak screamed so much he ran out of breath. “Watch! All of you!” Shadow Weaver turned to the guard troopers and the trio. “Watch as your leader and ‘Lord’ is defenceless, the conqueror conquered!” The clone general attempted to struggle against her hold, but it was all for nothing. The witch noticed the movement and had enough of this, she clamped her fist closed, tightening around the sphere, stabbing her fingers into it, and then flicked them out from the sphere. Like manipulating a voodoo doll, the black mass tore Hordak’s armour apart like plastic. “You were told to fear the Hordak, made believe that he was powerful, terrifying, a demon among men! And yet, all a lie! Look at him, your frail, weak, and sick ‘Lord’! This is the liar and fraud under whom you kneeled! Reject, banish this pretender! And pledge your loyalty to me!... or else.” She turned to Hordak for the finale time, and she blasted him out of the room through the wall, outside.

The soldiers were freed, and they quickly kneeled to the Shadow Weaver, very obviously out of fear. Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta did so as well. And Hordak, several metres outside and below the point from which he was launched. His last moments of consciousness were that of the hole he was pushed through, a crowd gathering around him and a faint chant, “All Hail The Shadow Weaver.” And then the darkness took over.

“And how’d you make it out of The Fright Zone? All the way here? To BrightMoon?”

“That, I entirely do not know. I remember passing in and out of consciousness I... they must’ve dragged me out of my fortress and threw me out into the desert, to let the elements claim me. There one of your scouting groups found me, correct?” The trapped clone looked past the She-Ra at the BrightMoon’s angel Queen. Angella confirmed the latter half of the story, past that she had no idea. The moment the lilac skinned, feather winged, immortal Queen was given the report that some of her woman somehow managed to capture her nemesis and the leader of the Evil Horde, that moment ranked as one of the strangest in her life. She practically leaped off her golden throne and sprinted through the halls to the front of the castle. And true enough, there he was, bleeding and chained.

Hordak was thrown into the castle prison, or so they called it, but where the clone expected cold metal bars, hard floor, greys and other dull colours, and small claustrophobic spaces. Instead he was greeted with bright pinks and purples, soft pillows and blankets and armchair. He was confused. The only aspect of the location that suggested its own true function and purpose was the thin transparent glass-like, curtain, veil-like force field, a pretty rainbow effect coated the structure.

He did not know what to think of the ‘cell’. It was... nice. Even though the Queen acted like it wasn’t. He was pretty sure that the room was some sort of guest room, it looked too nice for a basement, but that was BrightMoon, they probably have storage rooms larger and grander than most rooms in The Fright Zone. “It is a prison!” The angel Queen argued. After the Queen’s long elaborate speech about how Hordak was a monster and the Horde was an evil unparalleled by anything in BrightMoon’s history, and how he should have been ashamed of his actions and that if she was like him she would’ve killed him where he stood, after all that the She-Ra entered.

“It’s just Adora.”

“Very well, She-Ra Adora.”

“Ugh.”

She massaged her templates, her very brief irritation was cut even shorter by a sharp ‘HA’ that escaped from the snickering Glimmer. “The Mighty Evil Lord Hordak, King of Horrors, the Baron of Bedlam, and the Master of Mayhem? Really? I’m kinda disappointed. You were our greatest enemy? Hahaha, can you even do one push-up? Let me guess Weaver uses your arms to pick broccoli out of her teeth? HA!” Hordak’s face remained blank, unphased, and unamused.

None of them noticed his pupils shifted as they were covered by crimson red lens, and they shifted to Adora. Curiously the She-Ra didn’t engage or enjoy the roast, even the stoic Queen and the Head-Sorceress both held cheeky smiles, but not this Adora. Her eyes remained fixed on him.

The difference between Adora and everyone else in that room was the fact that she was from the Horde. Adora had been with the Alliance for almost a year, it was only a few months ago she was still living in The Fright Zone, studying war under the symbol of the Horde. For most of her life she perceived Hordak as their leader, as a strong, righteous hero, a saint who sought to quell chaos in the world and install control, order, and peace. Adora and all the other cadets all their lives looked up to Hordak. To look down on him now didn’t come to her naturally. All her life she wanted to impress him and now she was told to insult him.

“Could you leave us?” Adora’s genuine and semi-serious question shocked everyone in the room. Glimmer was the first to argue, and was the most vocal about it. The Princess of BrightMoon found the request outrageous. Even Angella attempted to oppose her choice, placed a hand on her shoulder, told her Hordak was a manipulator and a conqueror, he could try to trick her. When she realised there was no dissuading the young woman she let off. She ended with telling the young She-Ra to be careful. Angella motioned for Casta and Glimmer to move out of the room.

Glimmer was the last individual to leave, she turned around and she stuck her tongue out, “You better watch yourself toothpick-arms! If you touch a single hair on her hair-!”

“I got this Glim! Thanks!”  Adora interjected, giving her a thumbs up. Glimmer squinted and walked backwards out of the room. And so Adora and Hordak were the only ones left. A tense silence filled the room. Neither really knowing what to say. Hordak didn’t know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable, perhaps it was the look the girl gave him. She looked... disapproving, or disappointed. “The war could be over soon. At least that’s what all the others think, but if what you say is true, when I think the end of the war is further away than ever... You know, I don’t know if you know, but I was her ward, I think I was her pet, her favourite. It was hard to tell with her twisted version of ‘love’ if you could call it that. She certainly put everyone else down around me.”

“She certainly felt, in her mind, that you were ‘special’ in some way. She said so when I returned to The Fright Zone with you, and you two met for the fist time. Therefore I can definitely see that sort of favouritism forming.”

“...Wait... when ‘you’ first brought me back to The Fright Zone? D- Do you know where I come from?!” That exclamation gave Hordak pause. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, he was trained in the art of war, to combat opponents on battlefields of any kind, he could withstand the void of space, and his mind altered to form battle strategies and tactics in milliseconds, of course all of those enhancements have been long lost because of his defect. But this, he was not prepared for. He adjusted his position on the soft fluffy armchair, no matter how he moved he felt his backside sink into it. He awkwardly cleared his voice, that unintentionally brought Adora’s focus back onto him.

“I... well... yes... I” Hordak was not a liar. In fact Hordak himself had no concept of lying, he didn’t know how to, the clone was loyalty personified. It was figuratively and literally beaten into him. So he had to be careful about what he revealed, he may have been truthful, but he wasn’t stupid, arguably. He didn’t want to show all his cards. So he choose to keep his portal secret, same with his origin. So as he replied he choose to leave some key information out, “I was the one who found you, my personal computer picked up an anomaly, a strange, powerful energy surge.” Hordak noticed Adora’s eyes widened, her mouth was gradually opening wider and wider, as she began to lean forward in captivation. “And, uhm, [clears throat] at the time I was not sure what I found, I did not know what you were. But in the middle of a field of quadrant PT5-5-03 in the west region of The Elder Forest, there I found a crying infant and that was you. And so I brought you back with me to The Fright Zone. I had no use for you, and the noises you were making were causing my anxiety levels to rise so I handed you to Shadow Weaver, my Minister of Magicks.”

Adora’s face betrayed the fact that she was disappointed, and the story was quite anti-climatic sooner than her raised volume did. “That’s it?! Not that I wanted you to, but I was expecting you to have stolen me from like a cradle or something. I kinda hoped you’d know where I came from.”

“I do not... I... am sorry?” That was true. He did not. Hordak’s confusion was apparent, he didn’t know how to react to the hero’s theory. And so they stood and sat there for a moment longer, neither saying anything. In that quiet moment Adora realised that the bat lord wasn’t... scary. I mean it was ‘Hordak’, so the name itself was scarier than the actual man, as all her life the name was taught to the cadets as a monstrous horror entity, ‘Hordak’ was a King who sat on top a throne of skulls and he ate hearts and everything died around his step, he had two heads, and he breathed fire. That was ‘Hordak’.

But the man that sat uncomfortably in front of her was no such thing, he wasn’t ‘Hordak’, not ‘The Hordak’ she was told to believe in, all those cadet scary stories they all told each other all kind of seemed non-sensical now, she had to admit. The man she was looking at was thin, slim, in a not healthy way. He looked like a skeleton, like a weak breeze could push him over. He himself looked weak and fragile, sickly even. Now she was getting worried just scanning over him, she thought maybe she should’ve offered him like some mint tea or warm towels or... or something.

“You’re nothing like what we expected.”

Hordak raised his brow ridge, “How do you mean?” He didn’t know why he asked, he shouldn’t have asked.

“I- no offense, but, uh, I thought you’d be a bit scarier, you know ‘a horror of biblical proportions’ something like that?”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He replied awkwardly.

“Yeah, no, no, it’s cool.” She scratched the back of her neck, “Soooo uh... oh did you say you didn’t know ‘what’ I was? I mean I haven’t ever seen your species around, in The Fright Zone or any kingdom I’ve been to while with the Alliance. Do your species n- eh, how do I not make this sound weird, not have babies? Do you guys grow out of cabbages or are delivered by storks, hehehe?” Her attempt at humour flopped as she noticed he didn’t seem to get it.

His eyes darted around the room as if he was thinking of how to articulate something, ”No we... people like me... we are not children, we are in this state all our lives, from gaining consciousness to death.”

“So where do you come from?”

“...That is enough. Leave me.” That was a shame, Adora thought they were getting somewhere, but the cold and the lack of emotion returned. He dropped the eye contact, he stared down at the floor, he turned into a statue, no slight motion betraying the fact he was a real person. Adora tried to start up the conversation again few times, to no avail. Hordak revealed too much already. So Adora left the room.

[thatgoblin]

Fall

Summary:  Reader is the tech wiz for Sam and Bucky in finding the Flag Smashers. When Walker shows up as Sam’s reasoning with Karli, all hell breaks loose. Reader is grabbed by the Flag Smashers, but Zemo comes to the rescue before they get too far.

Warnings: Vague violence, some mention of blood

Word count: 1424

“What is he doing?” You hiss as you watch John Walker aka Schmaptin Schmerica barge past Bucky, ignoring any warning from your group to let Sam just talk to Karli. Lamar is right behind him as Bucky turns to you briefly.

“Stay here and watch him,” Bucky says, pointing to Zemo who is handcuffed to a boiler, then he’s gone. 

“Of course, stay behind, watch the guy who’s handcuffed. What could go wrong?” You grumble before looking over to see Zemo already out of the cuffs. “Shit, where are you going!?”

“I have work to do. I advise you to stay here where it’s safe Y/N,” Zemo says as he walks out another door. You groan for a moment in deliberation. Should you go after Zemo or follow to tell Sam and Bucky? 

“Goddamn it,” you growl before taking off after Zemo. Running through the door he had just gone through, you look right then left. He’s nowhere in sight. How the hell was he so fast!? Going on chance, you run down the left hall in hopes of finding him. This wasn’t your job. You were supposed to be tech support, eye in the sky, ground control to Major Tom. Chasing down a war criminal was not in your resume. Yet here you are, running down corridors in search of the Baron in hopes that he didn’t escape. 

Skidding to a halt, you hear gunshots from a room to your right. You take cover behind a wall as Karli and one of her friends come barrelling out of the room. When you turn to run away, more of her friends are coming down the hallway towards you. 

“Grab them,” Karli snaps from behind you. You look to see her holding her side where blood is soaking through her shirt as she’s held up. Strong hands are lifting you up to toss you over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes before you can even try to run. 

“Let go of me!” You yell, looking up to see Bucky rushing behind them towards you. “Bucky!” You scream, but the person holding you is fast and there’s others between you and him. 

“Let them go!” You hear Bucky cry as you’re being carried off. “Y/N!”

“Take them to the roof,” Nico, one of Karli’s friends that you recognize, orders. Fighting the whole way, you squirm and beat on the person holding you. They’re super soldiers though, and you’re just a regular human. No superpowers or super strength to speak of. Everything you can do is being ignored.

Once on the roof, you’re dropped in a heap before being pulled to your feet. The person holding you forces you onto the edge of the very high building with crumbling concrete and exposed rebar. The ground beneath you is far and your feet try to keep you stable on unsure material. 

“What are you doing?” You gasp as the concrete under your feet shifts. “Just let me go, you’re only making this worse.”

“You’re just a distraction,” the person says behind their mask. “Now, I’d stay as still as possible or you’re going over.” They pull a metal pole from the ground, shaking the floor you’re on. Your heart is beating hard against your chest and you’re close to tears. There is nothing to hold on to steady yourself and your only means of balance is your arms. The fact that there is nothing but air to your back has you feeling a tugging sensation as if your body wants to fall. You’re shaking harder as Bucky and Sam get to the roof to see you. 

“I’d stay back if I were you,” the Flag Smasher says, wielding the pole like a staff as they walk between you and the other two men. “They’re on shaky ground. Any sudden moves from them and they’re gone.” 

You look to Bucky wide eyed as the person spins the pole. 

“Y/N, you okay?” Bucky asks, looking from you to the Flag Smasher. 

“Yeah, other than you know, heights and bad footing,” you say, your voice cracking. You hold your breath as the concrete shifts and your arms wobble. 

“Look, this doesn’t have to end like this, let them go before someone gets killed,” Sam says, stepping forward slowly. “I came to Karli to talk, not start a fight.”

“Well it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” The masked person says. They tilt their head slightly, grunting before straightening up.  “Now, you might understand what we’re going through.” 

The person moves quickly, slamming the pole through the ground. It takes seconds for a giant crack to form and shoot towards you. 

“No!” Sam cries as he darts towards you and Bucky is not far behind. The ground under you caves and you’re falling. You’re not even able to scream for your friends before you’re already too far away from them to save you. 

There’s no moment of clarity or seeing a dead relative, because it’s just too damn fast. 

Everything is fast. By the time your lungs let you suck in a breath to scream, you see a flash of purple from the corner of your eye as Zemo swings out from a window to grab you. A choked cry comes out, but you’re being pulled back into the building before you can grab onto him. 

Falling onto the floor once inside the building again, Zemo tumbles in after you to land on you. His weight is brief as he pushes himself up to check you for wounds. 

“Y/N are you okay?” He asks, his breathing harsh as he frowns. His hands gently press and check soft areas of you that would be easy to hurt. 

“Ow,” you groan softly as you lay there. Your adrenaline was still pumping through your veins as you’re still shaking. “I. . . Yeah, I’m okay,” you manage after a moment. Looking up at him, you were confused by his concern, but maybe you had been reading him wrong. The stances he took of putting himself between you and Walker when things got heated, Zemo always keeping you in eye sight that you had thought was because of him trying slip away, even the small moments of him checking on you while the other two men seemed to be absorbed with the mission at hand. Those bits of time you two had were put into perspective and you weren’t sure if you were reading into it because of a brush of death or if maybe. . .

Naw. There was no way.

“Here, let me help you up,” he says as he climbs off of you. You were missing the heat as cool air washed over you without him to block it. It makes you wish you’d grabbed your jacket from the room instead of running off in just a t-shirt. “Are you sure you are okay?” Zemo asks again as you steady yourself on your feet. Your legs feel like jelly a bit, but you nod as you hug yourself. His hands are searching you again, making sure the marks on you are just dirt and not a wound.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks,” you say, taking his hands to hold them as you give them a soft squeeze.. “For saving me and for checking on me.”

“You are most welcome, Y/N,” he says, his eyes soft as his lips curl into a smile that you can only call mischievous. There are a few seconds for just the two of you holding onto each other's hands before the moment is broken as Sam and Bucky rush in. 

Bucky’s the first to hug you. His grip is strong, but you can tell it was because he’d been scared. It wasn’t the first time a friend of his fell and nearly died. Sam does the same, both of them wanting to make sure you are truly okay. They look to Zemo, giving him a grateful nod. This was something they couldn’t really get angry at him for and they were probably confused on how to feel. 

Once the moment is over, Sam leads the way back to the house all of you had been staying at. Following, you nearly stumble at the sudden weight of Zemo’s coat draped over your shoulders. Pushing your arms through the sleeves, you lag behind Bucky and Sam a few steps, you can’t help yourself in taking Zemo’s gloved hand in yours as you both walk down the street. 

You don’t look at him, but you can tell he’s smiling.

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 24!! Sorry it ends quite suddenly; the fighting went on for longer than I anticipated. @selfindulgenz @brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88

Content warning!! Panic attack and violence are featured!!

Four solid turtles landed with solid thuds on the rooftop. Leo was thankful for the quick approach of sunset that cast the city into the shadows they learned to live by. One quick look around the rooftop revealed nothing out of the ordinary as far as Leo could see.

“Thought you said she’d be here Don?” Leo sighed. It wasn’t that he disliked going out of his way, not when the life of an April was at risk, but they couldn’t risk coming out when the city was still active.

“She should have been.” Donnie whispered, checking his wristband as his forehead wrinkled in concentration, “I don’t have footage of her leaving…”

“Well, you see a teenage girl anywhere?” Raph growled.

“Man, I was excited!” Mikey snapped his fingers, “This would be like the third chick I know! Hope she thinks I’m cute!”

“Who wouldn’t think you’re cute, Mike?” Raph snarled.

“Aw, thanks bro!”

“Guys!” Donnie said, his goggles now pulled over his eyes as he looked around the area. “I think I figured out our issue.”

The air around them was filled with the stuff. Like pink cloud of cotton candy betraying the faintest traces of Dimension X. He gave the goggles over to Leo so the leader could observe for himself. Leo became unusually quiet as he eyed the strange cloud, then gave the googles back to Donnie and stalked off to the corner of the roof to get what little privacy he could to mull over his thoughts.

“What’s Samurai Jack over there bummed about?” Raph huffed, his voice betraying the concern for his brother.

“There’s traces of Dimension X here.” Donnie explained.

“So? We already knew Bubblicious was back.” Raph shrugged.

“Yeah— we knew he was in his dimension, not that he could get into ours. If he can come through again, then he might be trying to bring the technodrome through.”

“So? We beat him once!”

“And Mikey was nearly cracked like a walnut! I’d rather not go through that whole situation again— it hasn’t even been a year!”

“Well we know what to expect this time so it shouldn’t be that difficult!”

Donnie opened his mouth, but then quietly reserved. “Leo— I— if Krang’s in the city still, I could probably track him?”

“What are the chances of that?” Leo asked, almost imperceptibly soft.

“Uh… not very likely… but if there’s even a small chance then…”

“Then you should try. Go ahead, then.”

Donnie nodded and set his tracker to work. 

The wait was the longest ten minutes of Mikey’s life. Granted, every minute usually passed like an eternity to him, but it was always a lot harder when he got like this. Always without warning, it could seize him and squeeze him tight like some icky, cold octopus. Or maybe it was like… the thing he couldn’t think of. Maybe he was still there and that’s why he couldn’t breath and that’s why his chest felt tight and painful and why the world was suddenly spinning circles. He wanted to sit, so he did.

“Hey bro, you good?” 

Raph’s touch was innocent enough, just a simple wrap of his arm around Mikey’s shell and a gentle squeeze, but for Mikey it was agony. It was like fire shot through his body and he just needed to run because if he didn't then his mind was screaming at him that he would die—

Donnie’s announcement came just in time to save Mikey’s life. “Hey Leo, I got a hit!”

That caught Leo’s attention. “Great. Where to next?”

***

“I’m only going to ask this once more. Where are the turtles?!” Baron Draxum demanded, his voice booming with a robotic enhancement.

“Last I saw, they were in Nunya.”

“Nunya?”

“NUNYA BUISNESS!”

Cassandra laughed and pointed at Baron, making the yokai glare back at her with angry eyes. “You walked right into that one! Just like ligma!”

“Ligma? Who’s ligma?”

“LIGMA BALLS!”

Both Cassandra and April laughed that time. April’s eyes were forever trained on the orb. April had long since given up on escaping the restraints but she was still bubbling with fury at seeing her precious orb in the grip of someone so villainous. Cassandra had the artifact strapped safely to her belt. Yet still, for some reason, April laughed along with the foot soldier that could destroy everything she protected at the slightest whim.

“You are really getting on my nerves, little girl…” Draxum leaned over April with a threatening scowl, his lion-like features visible even through the new armor that covered him. 

“Why are you doing this?” April knew what she was doing. She had spent so long with Donatello that the drama and the tears came to her like the flick of a switch, the emotions on the outside not at all matching the inside. Outside, she was a mess of tears and distress while inside her mind was calculated and almost cold as she considered every possible escape. “I thought you changed…”

Draxum laughed. A cold, chilling laugh with no warmth in at all. No care for the fate of the teen in front of him. Caring only for his own self-preservation and willing to toss everything and everyone aside to achieve the goals in his mind.

“You seriously think thousands of years of being evil and I could switch to being all sunshine and daisies because some pathetic failure of an experiment asked nicely?”

April couldn’t hide her rage, giving a battle cry as she tried to lunge out of her seat. Baron Draxum pulled away at the last minute and laughed as April topped over, unable to catch herself due to her restraints and slamming her face hard into the cold concrete. Her war shout turned into a painful cry as the impact reverberated inside her skull and rattled her to her core. It took a few seconds of numbness before pain returned to her tenfold.

“Oops.” Baron Draxum laughed, “Sorry.” He laughed and raised his hoof to give her another solid blow, but the impact never landed.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

Baron Draxum looked up just as a massive figure came from the sky in a flip, a powerful kick landing on his outstretched leg and making the sheep bleat in a pain of his own. All April could see from her position on the floor were a set of massive green feet, but she didn't have to wait long before the chair was lifted effortlessly off of the ground and back upright, her binds undone with a quick flash of a pocketknife.

“Hi, I’m Michelangelo.” The massive green giant gave a dopey smile and pointed to his orange mask. “Like, don’t be scared dudette I’m totally here to be your prince in shining armor! Uh. With no armor!”

“Huh. Okay.” April had seen weirder.

Like she were little more than a sack of potatoes, April was lifted bridal style and carried away from the conflict by the strange mutant calling himself by her friend's name.

“Where’s Krang?” Leo demanded, aiming his katana at what he perceived as a mutant attacker.

Baron Draxum stared curiously. “You must be the Leonardo of this world. Strange. I imagined you smaller!” With the enunciation of the word, Draxum brought a vine down upon the leader and whipped him hard against the soft of his chest, sending ninja flying backward with the force.

Before Draxum could revel in his victory, a bigger force slammed into him and knocked him off his hooves, sending Draxum into the air a few feet. The yokai came down hard but turned his slide into a charge. Raph had his sai ready, deflecting the blows that Draxum tried to land on him while landing a few punches when the opportunity presented itself.

“Master Draxum!” Cassandra was momentarily distracted and Donnie took the opportunity to jump out of his own hiding place and swing his staff toward her. Cass caught onto the attempted attack from the corner of her eye and swung her naginata to intercept the blow, locking her and the mutant into a struggle. 

Cassandra dug her feet into the ground as hard as she could, dragging the turtle as close to the other spar as she dared before putting everything she had into a sudden turn that caught Donnie off balance and sent him stumbling into Raph.

“What the Hell Don—“ Raph lost his focus and Baron Draxum jumped, slamming both hooves hard into the giants chest to send him knocking into Donnie once more. Then a sudden ankle-swipe from Cassandra had them both on the ground tangled in each other's limbs.

Cassandra ran to Draxum’s side and they gave each other a fist bump.

Leo charged back into the fray with a blow aimed at Draxum, but Cassandra caught sight of the attempted attack and shoved her master out of the way.

“Master!” 

Leo’s charge handed hard against her and he didn't stop charging until he had slammed her into the wall.

“Cassandra!” Draxum, despite his years of experience, was dumbfounded by the sudden rescue from the general. He looked behind him when he heard another battle cry and spun to catch Mikey mid-jump, the vines wrapping around Mikey’s shell securely before spinning him around and tossing him carelessly. Mikey ducked into his shell before the impact and didn't come back out.

“You children are getting on my nerves!”

Raph and Donnie untangled themselves from each other finally and charged Draxum as a unit.

“Good teamwork.” Draxum brought his vines neck-level with the charging brothers and knocked them both flat on their carapace with their own momentum.

Cassandra was still too preoccupied with her assault on Leo to lend any assistance to her master. Leo was caught off guard by how weaselly the general was, zooming in and out and up and down and, by the time any of his blows were ready, she was already somewhere else. He didn't want to praise the enemy, but damn was she fast!

“Would you— stop moving?!” Leo was starting to get frustrated.

Finally, the soldier kicked off his chest and landed a short distance away on her hands and feet, shooting up quickly and brandishing her naginata. “FOOT CLAAAAAAAAN!”

She charged Leo again and flashed her weapon, the blade just barely brushing across Leo’s plastron before he was able to pull back and dodge the attack.

“Do not waste all your energy at once, general.” Draxum’s voice was surprisingly steady despite taking on Raph and Donnie’s attacks at once. He deflected another one of Donnie’s attacks and once more the lanky teen stumbled. “You need to work on your balance recovery.” Another attack from Raph that Draxum had been anticipating. “You need to mix up your attacks!”

Raph growled, “STOP GIVING ME ADVICE!”

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Lunatic Parade: Shin Tsukinami (Chapter 3)

Surprise! Dear anonymous askers, I have heard your requests about doing Shin’s route and I hope this makes you happy! (๑و•̀ω•́)و [Honestly, if anyone still has someone they want me to translate from Lunatic Parade in the future please type an anon ask and I will definitely see it!]

Place: Bernstein castle — Inside

Yui: Hmm...

(Ahh, Shin-kun isn’t anywhere here... I wonder where he went?)

???: —That’s why I’ve told you to listen to me!

Yui: (Is there someone arguing... ? Wait, I know that voice... !)

Place: Bernstein Castle — Throne room

Yui: (Ah... Shin-kun... what’s going on... ?)

(After all I was right about hearing someone arguing...)

Shin-kun... ! What’s wrong?

Shin: Oh, it’s you. There’s nothing much more than this annoying guy!

Even though I’ve been told to act more courtesy and changed myself,

I still can’t meet up with the Earl! What does that even mean!?

Yui: Eh... such... ! What’s the meaning of all of this, Butler-san... ?

Butler: As I already said earlier, my master said that his behavior still is insufficient.

Yui: (Insufficient... ? But my heart... )

Shin: That’s why I told you to listen to me properly!

Butler: I for myself can not do any more than my master has told me to.

Shin: Tch... !

Yui: (Just what’s the meaning of all of this? I thought he would be able to meet up with the different Shin-kun now...)

(Maybe there is still “something” that’s supposed to be changed before they can meet again... ?)

Shin-kun... let's go and ask the hotel manager for help once again.

There may still be a problem that we haven’t been able to realize by ourselves yet.

Shin: Another problem...

.....

Ahh, I get it already! I don’t understand it anyway, but we still have to talk later!

Yui: (I hope we’re able to get everything solved soon...)

Place: Demon world — Mondstein hotel

Mondstein Manager: — Oh? You two again. Is there anything you need?

Yui: Ah... ! We came just right in time... !

We would like to talk to you once again if possible...

Mondstein Manager: ... It seems as if he still couldn't meet up with the baron if I am right.

Okay... what is the consultation?

Yui: In fact—

*time passed*

Yui: ... And that’s the current situation...

Mondstein Manager: Hmm... I understand.

Shin: What’s wrong with the way I changed, I don’t understand it.

Mondstein Manager: I agree... what is it that we did wrong...

.....

Yui: (He’s just starring... it makes me nervous...)

Mondstein Manager: For example... If I'm going to take a little closer look at the baron now...

Do you two think you could face him right away?

Shin: Eh? That’s... Isn’t that possible?

Mondstein Manager: Why do you think so?

Yui: Uhh... because he’s actually a very polite and well-behaved person so we thought it would work...

Mondstein Manager: If his courtesy is as you say, he is well equipped with what he got.

Besides that... between you and me,

There are some decisively differences, don’t you think?

Yui: (What is the difference between us and the manager... ?)

Yui: (Hmm...)

Ah... maybe it’s the outfit... is that it?

Shin: What? The outfit...

Mondstein Manager: Exactly. If you take a look at the Earl, you may want to dress more appropriately.

Yui: (New clothes... well, it's important to pay attention to the appearance too, I guess...)

Mondstein Manager: There is a good dress shop around here, so let me write a letter of introduction to them.

Yui: Really!? Thank you very much!

(Changing clothes... I was thinking about more difficult things, but that's actually right...)

(It’s actually the basic of the basic...)

Place: Demon world — Dress shop

Yui: (I wonder if this is the store he meant... ?)

Dress shop owner: Welcome.

Shin: I’ve got this letter of introduction for you, could you possibly get us new clothes with this?

Dress shop owner: Introduction letter... ?

.....

Yui: (Why is she... starring at it so intensely... ?)

Dress shop owner: ... Hmph.

...No matter what that person requested, there are currently no clothes for you to get here...

Shin: Hah? What do you mean?

Dress shop owner: You, you’re not a vampire, right? Your smell is horribly different from one...

Shin: ... Nh... !

Dress shop owner: Also... you over there...

Yui: (Eh... me... ?)

Dress shop owner: What exactly are you? You’re not a vampire or a human being, you‘re just like a machine.

Yui: (Ah...)

Dress shop staff: This is a vampire city. So if you aren’t one, you don't get any clothes! Get out of my store now!

Shin: ...Tch, I’ll get her silent for her own sake... !

Yui: Nh, Shin-kun... ! Hold it down... !

Shin: I knew even if you wouldn’t have said it! ...Ngh!!

Yui: (For now it’s probably better to leave this store...)

Place: Demon world — Diamante Fountain

Shin: Ahh, damn!

*water slashes*

Shin: Haa...

Yui: My handkerchief, do you want to use it?

Shin: ... Ah, thank you.

Yui: (Shin-kun, you feel a little calmer now...?)

Shin: I finally calmed down. If you wouldn’t have stopped me back then, I would’ve definitely talk horribly about that woman.

But...

I also hate vampires myself...

Seems to be a common thing for us.

Yui: (... Although that may be true...)

But as expected, I thought it would be impossible for Shin-kun to not get angry.

Shin: Hah?

Yui: (She told him that he has a strange smell... and also other variously terrible things ...)

If I was told such things in that way, I wouldn’t be able to stay calm...

Shin: Ah… I do remember what she said and it’s stuck in my head,

But what made me annoyed about it is another reason.

Yui: Another one... ?

Shin: ... About you, she made you look like an idiot.

That actually was the only thin which annoyed me.

*Yui blushes*

Yui: ...Nh...

(Shin-kun... did you really think like that for me... ?)

Shin: ... What’s wrong? You suddenly went quiet.

Yui: That’s because I was surprised that you thought like this...

Shin: ...That's only natural, isn’t it?

*Shin hugs Yui*

Yui: (Nh... Shin-kun suddenly hugged me tight...!)

Shin: Because you are only my woman... Nn

*Shin kisses Yui*

Yui: ... Nn... !

Shin: Kuku... You, your face is getting red.

Yui: B-Because this is embarrassing ...

Shin: If that’s what you think.

Haa, anyways... after all of that... what should we do...?

Yui: It probably would be better to talk to that clerk once again.

Shin: Eh... you want to talk to that woman again?

But if she’ll talk with us in such a way again, I'll seriously get angry this time.

Yui: Y-You can’t do that... !

Well then, let’s go and talk to her for another time.

(I hope that the situation changes a little if we explain our intention...)

Place: Demon world — Dress shop

Yui: Um... excuse me...

Dress shop owner: Hmm? Why are you guys here again?

No matter how many times you ask, there is nothing I’ll sell to you. Go back home now!

Shin: ... Ngh...

Yui: (... She won’t give up... but I can’t give up here at this point either...)

Would you please listen to our intentions why we came here?

Dress shop owner: Persistent! I don't need to waste my precious time with people like you!

Shin: Haa... as I thought, it’s impossible. She doesn’t even want to listen to our story.

Yui: But...

Dress shop owner: First and foremost—

Yui: Ah... !

(The loaded luggage is ...!)

Shin: Agh!?

Dress shop owner: Ahh!?

Yui: (Are those... stocks of clothes? An avalanche has occurred ...!)

Dress shop owner: What should I do!? My precious clothes are all over the place!

Shin: Ahh crap! Why did this just fall down?! Fuck!

Yui: (Both, the shop owner and Shin-kun are angry over the luggage, but who should I calm down first if I’m only by myself... !?)

(What should I do?)

Choices

1) Calm Shin-kun down ♡ ♡ ♡

2) Calm shopkeeper down

— Calm Shin-kun down ♡

Yui: (For the time being, let's calm Shin-kun down... !)

Shin-kun ...! Calm down……!

Shin: Shut up! I know!

But why do I have to come across with this!?

Yui: I’m not sure...

Shin: Haa...

Yui: (... He’s still grumpy, but I think I managed to calm him down...)

— Calm shopkeeper down

Yui: (The shopkeeper is the one who’s panicking way more... !)

Ah, about that! Please calm down... !

Dress shop owner: My precious clothes are completely damaged! How am I supposed to stay calm!?

Yui: (Hmm... I might have failed to call out for her and calm her down...)

end Choices

Yui: (Anyway, it’s probably better to get rid of these broken and ripped clothes now...)

Shin: Hey you. What are you doing?

Yui: I'm going to get rid of them...

Shin: Why do you do that? It’s not your fault that these clothes fell down.

Yui: That's right ...

Dress shop owner: Hm, it’s useless to do that.

Yui: But I think it’s difficult to get rid of this much clothes all by yourself...

Dress shop owner: .....

Shin: Ahh, fine. I’ve got no other choice then!

Yui: Ah... ! Thank you... !

Shin: ... Why do I have to get rid of these clothes while she doesn’t...

Also... it’s bad to stock something like that in the first place...

Ahh... geez! I can’t help it!

Yui: (Shin-kun, I’m glad he’s helping me cleaning up the mess!)

Dress shop owner: .....

Yui: (If we go with this condition, we may be able to get rid of everything somehow... !)

*time passed*

Shin: Haa! Finished!

Yui: (I think he managed to get the clothes away...)

Dress shop owner: Haa... No way, I didn’t expect you to really get rid of it all.

For now, do you still want to talk to me?

There’s no way I still want to talk to you. Neither I want you to loan something from here.

Yui: Such... not even borrowing ...

Shin: Ahh... geez, why are you such a grumpy woman while we even cleaned for you?

... Well, but if you want to listen to our intention now, this is it. So we are—

Yui: Wait, Shin-kun

Shin: ... What?

Yui: (It probably wouldn’t help her to hear our story anymore...)

(We didn’t wanted a reward for helping her in the first place...)

About that, we're sorry that we've cleared this mess up...

Shin: Wai-... ! What are you talking about!?

Dress shop owner: ... Huh? That means you don’t want me to listen to you?

Then why did you even bother to clean up all of this?

Yui: That’s because... helping people in need is a matter of course...

Shin: ..... !

Dress shop owner: ...That’s right.

...Fufu.

*Shopkeeper applauds*

Dress shop owner: ...You guys have passed the test!

Yui: Eh?

Shin: ...Huh? We passed? You suddenly started laughing... I don’t get the meaning of this

Yui: (What on earth... ?)

Shin: ... Ah!

Yui: W-What’s wrong!?

Shin: That old man played with us again!

Yui: Eh?

Shin: That’s why! We were structured! You are working with him and knew about this!

Dress shop owner: Fufu. It's amazing that you could see through this just now.

Exactly. In fact, the manager hasn’t told me in person about this matter.

*Shopkeeper raises the letter*

Yui: That is...

Dress shop owner: The letter you gave me. It was all written in there,

That he wanted to test you guys to see if you were prepared.

I wasn't really excited about it, but I didn’t turn it back on purpose and acted like this instead.

I tried to do my best to make sure the test wasn't too bad for you, how was I doing?

Yui: (She was... acting the entire time... !?)

Shin: No fucking way! I’ve got in trouble just because of you.

Dress shop owner: That's right. I'm sorry for causing you any trouble.

Yui: (So that’s it... I finally understand...)

Shin: Crap... ! That old man...

Dress shop owner: By the way, do you guys still need to dress up formal... ?

Yui: That’s right...

Dress shop owner: I shouldn’t say that as an apology...

But you can pick any clothes you like and also keep them if you want.

Yui: Eh... is that okay?

Dress shop owner: Yes, of course. That’s the least I can do after you passed the test I gave you.

Yui: (That’s good... ! Now we can even dress more formal... !)

Shin-kun, we did it!

Shin: Hmph, I don't like being watched by that old man any longer...

But if I could fulfill the purpose safely, I’d say that this was worth trying.

Well then, let’s start searching.

Yui: Yes!

(It should be fun to choose clothes with Shin-kun... !)

*time passed*

Shin: — You, did you decide which one you’ll wear?

Yui: Oh, yes! I worried a lot because I couldn’t find one, but I’m thinking of choosing this one.

Shin: Hmm... well, if you think it fits?

Dress shop owner: — Have you decided which one to wear?

Yui: Y-Yes! I guess that I want to go with this one...

Thank you for taking your time for us... !

Dress shop owner: No problem. I’m praying that everything will work out for you.

Yui: Yes... ! We’ll definitely do our best! Hey, Shin-kun!

Shin: Well, I’ve already came this far so I won’t give up anymore.

... Well then. Lend me your luggage. It’s probably too heavy for you to carry.

*Shin takes luggage*

Yui: Ah... thank you...

Shin: Let’s go, Yui.

Yui: (We can finally dress properly with these...)

(This time we’re completely prepared to meet with the Earl...)

Place: Demon World — Glimmer Main Street

Yui: I still can’t believe that this was a test we just went through...

I’m glad you passed it.

Shin: ...Hmph, well true.

Yui: Ah... that’s right. Would you like to go pay him a visit and thank the manager?

Shin: Hah!? Why should I go to that old man and thank him for what he did to me?

We’ve been asked to go to that woman in the first place! The rest was just her work not his, wasn’t it?

Yui: I-I think so...

But because he was the one telling us to go there, you might be able to meet the Earl.

I think it would be better to thank him properly this time...

Shin: .....

Haa... damn, I already expected you’d say something like this.

... You know that I hate saying such things to people like him.

Yui: Y-Yes...

Shin: You’re surprisingly stubborn these days, but I already knew that.

Guess I can’t help it then. I’ll go and thank him properly then.

Yui: (Shin-kun... thank you...)

Place: Demon world — Mondstein hotel

Shin: Hey you!

Mondstein Manager: ...Yes? Oh, it’s you guys once again. You have already come back.

Shin: Even if you said that this was a letter of introduction, you were testing us right there.

Yui: Wait, not now Shin-kun... !

Mondstein Manager: Testing? I have certainly no idea what you are talking about.

Shin: Hmph, it's useless to scrutinize us any longer. I already know everything.

Yui: The test at the dress shop... how did you think we handled it?

Mondstein Manager: ... I get it. You want to know the result I would give you.

However, because you are having your clothes in hand, it seems that you have passed it safely.

Shin: You really have bad taste, you know? Messing with us behind our backs...

Heh. It was good that it all went well.

Geez, what were we going to do if we failed it?

Mondstein Manager: Fufu. I was not worried about this matter at all.

Because I strongly believed that it would be easily possible for him to get over that test.

Yui: (Ah...)

*Shin blushes*

Shin: ...Nn...

...Hmph. It's useless to compliment me to repair what you’ve done now...

Yui: (Shin-kun says that... but it looks as if he’s happy about his compliment)

(I’m happy for him... !)

Shin: ... Geez, I don’t want to be trusted by someone like you. Ah, that’s all way too ridiculous!

I’m gonna leave now!

Yui: Oh, wait for me... !

Um, thank you for your help!

Mondstein Manager: .....

Tomorrow is the very last day of the parade...

I truly hope these two will be able to meet the Earl... fufu

Place: Bernstein castle — Inside

Yui: Ahh... we finally came back.

Shin: Honestly... that was one of a terribly day.

But it’s fine as long as I can see the Earl tomorrow.

Yui: True... that’s why we probably should rest for the rest of today.

(We both should be prepared for everything tomorrow)

Shin: ... I’ll leave these clothes around here then.

Yui: Ah, yes! Thanks!

(My dress, huh...)

(I wonder how I’ll look in them?)

Shin: ...Hm? You’ve been looking at the luggage for a while now.

Yui: Nn... yes, I just thought about maybe wearing this dress for a trial for the time being.

Shin: ...Heh? Why not? I could help you change clothes right away if you want?

Yui: Ehh!? T-That’s not necessary... !

Shin: I’m just offering my help right there, don’t be so shy with me.

C’mon— !

Yui: Kyaa... !?

...Nh... !?

Yui: Stop... you can’t, Shin-kun... ! Please... !

Shin: You’re so noisy. I personally wouldn’t mind if anyone was watching us.

Yui: That’s not the problem... !

(Shin-kun generally doesn’t mind people watching... !)

*Yui tries resisting*

Shin: Wait, don’t resist. It’s hard to remove your clothes like this.

Yui: (...Nn...)

(Shin-kun’s hand is... !)

Shin: Kuku... you, do you know your face is getting red? Are you really that ashamed?

Yui: Of course... !

Shin: Hmph... but the more you continue to resist my touch,

The more you don’t notice how your clothes get taken off...

Yui: Eh!?

(H-He’s right... !)

Shin: The currently only defenseless part is your neck

...Ahh... Nn... !

Yui: ...Ngh... !

Shin: Nn... Nn... Haa...

Yui: (...The part Shin-kun just suddenly bit gets extremely hot... !)

Shin: ...Haa, I don’t know if it’s because of that Kleinod,

But your blood tastes different from usual...

It hasn’t always been like this, but I need to get your heart back as soon as possible ...

Yui: Huh... ? Did you say something just now?

Shin: No, it’s nothing.

Rather than that, you should change your clothes now.

Or should I continue?

Yui: ...Nn...

No, please refrain—

Shin: So that’s why you’re telling me to refrain that, because you’re shy.

Yui: (Shin-kun doesn’t listen to me at all... !)

Shin: Seeing you changing into a formal dress, I’m looking forward to see how this kind of view will look like. Kuku...

[just-emotional-trash]

An Outranked Romance Ch. 3

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Prinxiety, Logicality, and Remile

Story Summary: At Camp Regality, lords, ladies, and royalty alike learn the values of being a member of court in the Kingdom of Animiria. Prince Roman is thrilled at the chance to get out of the stuffy palace! Virgil, the son of a lowly Baron, is ready to leave the moment he gets there, and plans to slip through unnoticed. But what happens when a certain Princely figure won’t leave him alone?

Inspired by this post by @ironwoman359

Chapters: World-building - First - Previous - Next

Chapter Warning(s): None (that I see, but please tell me if you find one!)

Words: 2.8k

——————————

The first thing that Virgil heard when he woke up the next morning was humming.

Quickly after that, he noticed that Remy wasn’t in their bed. Instead, they were in the bathroom, most likely doing their make-up. That on it’s own wasn’t out of the norm. What was strange was the fact that they were softly singing Disney Princess songs whist doing it. Remy, for all of their amazing traits, did not sing princess songs. They claimed it was to protect their ‘cool factor’ whatever that meant. So waking up to a rendition of A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes was a new experience for Virgil.

“Remy?” Virgil called out as he entered the bathroom, “Are you... having a good morning?” Remy looked at Virgil in the mirror with a smile the size of a dinner plate.


“I am having a wonderful morning, thank you! My crops are watered, the sun is shining warm on my face-”


“-But your eyes are photosensitive-”


“-and the cutest boy in the kingdom is here! At this camp!” Remy finished their dark purple lip with a flourish as they turned to Virgil.


Virgil was taken aback with the realization that Remy had done their eye make-up. “You... you did your eyes! They look amazing!”

And they did, with subtle eyeshadow and eyeliner with a wing so sharp it could cut glass. All this seemed to overpower their red eyes that were normally kept hidden behind shades. Their ocular albinism was fairly severe, and while it didn’t impair their vision much, the red eyes freaked most people out. Not to mention they would go blind if exposed to sunlight for too long. They wore shades for a good reason. But because of said shades, they normally chose to not wear eye makeup because... what was the point? Unless, of course, they knew they might need to take their shades off for someone they wanted to impress.

“I know right? It’s the first day I’ll be here, I’m sure many students and teachers will try to force me to take my sunglasses off.” Oh, thought Virgil, that’s why, I thought he just wanted to impress- “So when I inevitably have to take them off in front of Emile, he might not be too freaked out.” Virgil started to assure them that their eyes were nothing to be ashamed about, but he quickly registered the unknown name.


“Emile? Who’s Emile?”


Remy rolled their eyes like it was obvious. “The duke? I asked around with higher ranked nobility. Apparently he’s not very well known because he’s shy and doesn’t attend many events. And honestly, if all he had to hang out around was those stuffy nobles, I can’t blame him,” They finished with a shrug. Vigil laughed and agreed.

“I can’t argue with that, but Remy. Really, you don’t need to try and disguise your eyes. Do you really want to be with someone that would drop you for something as simple as that?”


“No, but first impression are everything! Come on, hurry up! I’m starving and my duke awaits!” Virgil laughed again and followed him out the door to get ready.

—————


Breakfast sped by quickly, with far too much food and people far too awake for 8:30 in the morning. Then they had classes in the “Palace of Perfection” - aka the Pompous Palace to Virgil and Logan, who dubbed it so last year because of the way most of the staff and students acted. Virgil and Remy waved goodbye to Logan as they made their way to the classroom for Barons.

There are 5 “levels” of nobility in the kingdom of Animiria. The highest is Royalty. Those born into the royal family are considered top tier. Kings, queens, princes, and dukes alike find themselves in superior ranking. Underneath them are the Marquis, then the Earls, then Viscounts, then Barons. All members of nobility are distinguished, but Barons are the most common. The Insomni line of nobility is one of the weakest, and furthest from the Royal family. Neither of the Insomni siblings had ever even been to the palace. They lived on a small estate, a few days travel from the capital city. Because of this, most other nobles never knew Virgil or Remy, and they were commonly isolated in what few noble gatherings they did attend, closer to home.

Ranking was everything, especially to the more old fashioned nobility. The recent king had been trying to fade this discriminating rule out, but to little avail. For example, Logan’s family, all Viscounts from the Moreno line, were particularly stiff on this rule. Logan could only have friends of his rank, or one below or above. Anyone lower is “not worth his time” and anyone higher is too important to be bothering with his presence. His family considered this rule incredibly generous and flexible. Logan didn’t seem to mind, as he tended to keep to himself.

Such rules were common among noble families. As such, classes were divided by ranking. In these classes, students learned knowledge appropriate for their ranking. Barons, being the lowest nobility (most of whom were estate holders), only got classes in manners, some ethics, and of economics. A lot of economics. Most of the morning was economics. Virgil was nearly asleep by lunch a few hours later.

Lunch came and went with little fuss. Remy complained about the monotone teacher - “Maybe I should hire him. He nearly put me to sleep, do you know how hard that is?” - and Logan simply read through a new book he had found in his free time at the large library in which the Viscount’s lessons took place.

Finally, it was time for the only fun part of camp - electives. Before camp starts, they send you a letter of invitation. You have to send them back a letter including what electives you’d like to be placed in. Virgil was in art, archery, and music. Art was first, and was usually filled with mostly female nobility. Last year, the only other male was a second year Marquis named Ethan. He had graduated, so Virgil was expecting to be the only man this year. Not that he had a problem with that, but he wasn’t excited about the teasing he would receive from the teacher.

However, these fears were wiped from his mind when he opened the door to find Prince Roman talking and laughing with the teacher in the proud, obviously fake way he’s been using with all of the nobility. Virgil quickly finds a seat toward the back of the room. Prince Roman moves to take a seat at the front as the teacher calls the class to attention.

“Good afternoon, class! Welcome to art. I’m Baroness Matilda, and I hope to have a great year!  As you may have noticed, this year our roster includes our own Prince Roman.” Giggles flew around the room as the Prince in question turned around and smiled. Virgil just rolled his eyes. “He has asked that we as a class treat him as just another student, and I expect that of each of you.”

The Baroness moved to her desk to pick up a clipboard. “This is a class for all forms of art, but we will begin with traditional. You have been assigned a random partner for our first project. You must get together during free time and sketch each other by the weeks end. This is our first project, so it does not have to be perfect, however I expect more than just stick figures.” She made a pointed look around the class, then looked down at her clipboard.

“I have the list of partners here, I will post them on the board. Please come find your name and partner and get started.” She took a paper out of the clip and taped it to the chalkboard. Almost immediately it was crowded. Virgil slowly made his way up to the front, as to not have to wave through the crowd.

As the squeals of disappointment and excitement filled the room, Virgil found his name listed beside another of significantly more importance. And one that was likely to be a royal pain.

“You’re... Virgil, right?” A gravely voice said behind him. Virgil turned around to see the prince himself. “I’m-“

“Prince Roman.” Virgil finishes for him. The royal seemed taken aback.

“Have... have we met?”

“No, but they made sure your name was known last night.” Virgil answered dryly.

Roman smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I suppose the overdramatic entrance would have done that.” Virgil just shrugged. The prince took that as a cue to continue talking.  “I’m excited to learn more about art. All forms of it really. I’ve dabbled in many, but I’m the best at writing. I’ll show you one of my works one day!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “No offense your highness, but can we focus on the project?” He looked upset at the prospect, but nodded.

“Of course. But please, you don’t have to call me by my title, just call me Roman.” Virgil raised an eyebrow at that. Maybe Roman wouldn’t be like every other insufferable noble at this camp. He could hope. “Anyway, when can we meet up to work? I’ll only need an hour or so.”

“If you say so... Roman. It’ll only take me an hour as well, but it will only take me a few minutes to snap a reference photo so...” Roman flushed at that.

“Well I’m sorry, I’m not used to the combination of technology and art! Do you know how long it took me and my father to convince the royal advisors that cell phones weren’t evil?!”

Virgil scoffed. “Come on Princey, do you expect me to believe that you couldn’t just use them anyway?”

Roman made... some kind of offended noise (Virgil had never seen anything like it before, but he clutched his heart and made high pitched noises, he seemed offended), and responded, “I’ll have you know that it’s hard being a Prince!” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “No really! I have to constantly be perfection, and any mistake is amplified to the nation!”

Virgil chuckled. “Oh no, afraid your fan club will realize that you’re a human, not a perfect god?”

“Whatever, Emo Nightmare.” Roman huffed.

Virgil raised his eyebrow. “Emo Nightmare?”

“You called me Princey!” Roman accused. “I thought we were doing the nicknaming thing!”

“Ok, Romano”

“You cannot call me Romano.”

“I am so calling you Romano.”

Roman made his offended Princey noises once more. “Come on, I’d far prefer Princey.”

Virgil smirked. “Oh, and what are you going to do, issue a royal decree?”

“Yes!” A church bell rang in the distance, the signal for changing classes.

“You have fun with that.” Virgil picked up his things and started to leave the room. “Bye Romano!” He called as he passed the door.

“You’re insufferable!” He heard from the room as he laughed and walked out to the archery field.

—————

Virgil had already had a strange day. He had not expected to encounter the prince, much less poke fun at him. But what he saw at the field defied all known logic.

In the year he had known Logan, he had been predictable. His choice of friends followed his parents rules. He rarely smiled, even rarer did he laugh. If there was a book near, he was reading it. But this, Virgil could never see coming.

Logan was sitting on a bench, book closed on the bench next to him. And on the other side was the Royal Duke Patton, and Logan, laughing and smiling along to whatever he was saying. It was enough to stop Virgil in his tracks.

“I’ve only known him for like, a day, and I know this is weird.” Remy said as they walked up next to Virgil.

Virgil shook his head. “I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve heard Duke Patton was a personified ray of sunshine, but I never took them seriously. I guess he’s just like that?”

“He really is.” Virgil and Remy jumped as they noticed another had joined their party. “Hey,” said Duke Emile, as he walked up to the other side of Remy. “I’m Emile, he/him. Please don’t call me by title, I’m just a normal person.”

Virgil smiled at his meek introduction. “I’m Virgil, he/him. And this is my sibling Remy.” Virgil put his hand on their shoulder.

Remy had yet to reply, and was instead looking dumbstruck at the object of their affections. They seemed to finally pull themselves out of their reverie and flush red. “Remy, they/them. It’s... it’s nice to meet you.” In what seemed like a dash of courage, they took Emile’s hand in theirs and kissed the back of it.

He flushed and stammered, “It- it’s nice to see- I mean meet! You as well!” Virgil smiled and left the blushing idiots to themselves as he walked over to the pair on the bench.

“Logan, how many times do I have to tell you? Please don’t call me by my title, I’m just a normal person! I’m no greater than you, or Emile, or any other person on this planet.” The Duke Patton talked enthusiastically, waving his hands around to accentuate his words.

Logan frowned “I’m not sure what you mean, you are indeed ranked higher.” Patton threw his hands up in exasperation, just in time for Virgil to walk up behind him and get hit in the nose. The force knocked him back and onto the ground behind him.

“Oh my goodness gracious, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” Virgil looked up to see a duet of worried faces, both looking down at him. Logan seemed rather amused, despite the fact that his best friend was sprawled out on the ground. The other, who must have been Duke Patton, looked incredibly guilty. He had big, round eyes and he was offering his hand to help Virgil up.

Virgil just shook his head and laughed as he took Patton’s hand and lifted himself off of the ground. “I didn’t see you coming up behind me, I feel really bad, is there anything I can do?” Patton asked.

Virgil smirked. “You can tell me how you got Logan to laugh, I’ve known him for a year and only seen him genuinely laugh maybe once or twice.” Logan and Patton tinted pink and Patton laughed nervously as he tried to answer.

“Well, I guess I’m just a funny guy! Anyway, I haven’t introduced my self! I’m Patton! And please do-”

“Don’t use your title, you’re just a normal guy like everyone else.” Virgil interrupted. “I’ve heard the same thing twice today from your brother and cousin.”

Patton smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, we’re just tired of being held up on some pedestal.”

Virgil shook his head and chuckled. “It’s fine, I just find it funny that the three people at this camp that have the most power are functionally the most humble.”  

“Trust me, it gets really annoying fast.”

Virgil hummed in agreement. “Anyway, when did you two meet?”

Logan finally decided to butt in. “We are both taking a class in astrology, and we ended up next to each other in the front of the classroom. We just started talking and our personalities compliment each other well.”

“Well that sure is a fancy way of putting it but yep! Anyway, I’m gonna go find our instructor. Class was supposed to start five minutes ago, the silly goober,” Patton smiled and waved goodbye. Virgil looked at Logan with an expectant expression resting on his face.

“If you’re hoping for more details, I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed,” Logan shot him down quickly. Virgil laughed at the dry response.

“Just tell me one thing.” Logan just raised and eyebrow in invitation to continue. “Isn’t he of much higher rank? Wouldn’t your parents disapprove of you two being such casual friends?”

Logan sighed and ran his hand through his hair once. “My parent’s ideals are old fashioned. It’s not as if we are courting one another or betrothed, we are simply... friends. And what my parents don’t know won’t hurt them. Now if you will excuse me...” With that he walked off in the direction that Patton had left. Virgil just looked on with a shocked expression as Logan and Patton met up, and Patton gave Logan a hug. Albeit still and hesitant, it was a hug nonetheless. Logan, who had never touched Virgil for more than a handshake or a high-five, was hugging the royal duke.

“How much stranger can this day get?”

—————


iknowthisissuperlatepleasedontkillme

At least it is nearly 3 times longer than usual? Does that start to make up for it?

Yeah no, but we can pretend. i did not think this chapter would be this long. I’m happy we get to start seeing some actual interaction between the ships this time!

Taglist: @monroig @anaussiefander @www-dot-ohshit-dot-com @treasureofpriam @ghosttb0y @mostpeopleannoyne @athenashipsthings @icequeenorginal @cas-is-a-hunter  @justastressedprincess @rebeyerfdog @felicianoromano @roxiefox24 @laytonsartblog @bestbluebouquet@colorfulamo @alexanndrite

[piercebaron]

episode 22 and adaptations

Actually, I do want to talk about it! I feel like episode 22 encapsulates my “weird” feelings towards the anime adaptation and how it has cut and reframed certain things. It’s not bad? Just weird. 

Spoilers for the Plunderer anime and for the manga, up to chapter 36. 

prefacing all of this with a general note: if you’ve only seen the anime, please read the manga. You’re valid, I’m so glad you’ve been enjoying the anime, but please read the manga because as horny as Minazuki is (and the man is . . . very, very much so), his art is also amazing and some of his panels deserve a second, third, or even a fourth look. The little details here and there actually crop up later and become important, and it’s just great. Chapters 46 - 53 are some of my favorite in media in a long, long time and I absolutely cannot wait until they’re released in an official capacity so I can fork over my money for them.

(seriously, you guys don’t know how hard I’ve tried to legally purchase volume 13. I want to give my money to this series so bad.)

This will also be a little scattershot and bounce around between other episodes, so apologies in advance. I’m trying to double-check chapters and whatnot as I go but if I get something wrong or miss something, please don’t hesitate to correct me in the replies! I’ve been watching the anime through Funimation’s site -- dubbed up through episode 11 and then subs from then on. 

Adaptations! Adaptations. By their very nature, they are not a 1:1 sort of thing. A lot of times, you’ll hear people say “read the book” when a movie adaptation of said book comes out. This is because by its very nature, a movie adaptation simply can’t capture everything in the book -- nor should it. Little things will slip through the cracks. This doesn’t make the movie adaptation bad, necessarily, just that it loses something. 

By the same token, if someone tried to do a direct 1:1 adaptation of a book where, say, the book is used as a script (which is an extremely bad idea for so many reasons, please have a script oh my goodness), chances are it’s not going to be a very good movie. There are musicals, for example, where when filmmakers try to make them into films, they flop because they’re not “cinematic.” The directors didn’t take into account the shift in mediums or, more likely, they sorely underestimated it. Understandable, since it’s two visual mediums, but still.

This is all leading up to me talking about Plunderer, I swear.

Manga to anime is a tricky, tricky thing. A manga has [X] amount of pages to work with, depending on if it’s a weekly or monthly series (or even some different increment!). The author, then, has to structure their chapters accordingly, moving things along to keep the reader interested while also controlling the ebb and flow of the story. Note how when the chapters end, they’re engineered to keep you wanting to read more!

Anime is similar in that respect, except the crew has 20-22 minutes to fill over the course of 12 to 24 episodes depending on the series order. Plunderer, ftr, had a 2 “cour” order from the get-go. They have to plan out the series as a whole, figuring out certain things like, where will the season end? What are the big beats, when will we hit them? Etc. It’s no coincidence that the “school” arc started right around episode 12, which is the halfway point of the series; note how there was that filler episode with Hina and Lynne cooking, after all. 

When I started watching the anime after reading the manga, I assumed they’d end the season with, roughly, the end of chapter 36. It’s a nice “resolution” to a lot of things that had been building up over the series. Hina and Licht are finally together, Licht has resolved to keep his mask off and face the future, Jail has a new direction, Lynne -> Licht is basically resolved, and Pele’s layers finally get peeled back just a bit. 

I saw some predictions online that they’d leave off at the cliffhanger in chapter 39 and while that’s a good guess, in terms of narrative ebb and flow for an anime, it doesn’t really line up. They’d really have to rush some stuff (Charles!! i love you, charles) to get there and in terms of a product that they want to be able to market in several territories, it makes more sense to give it some feeling of resolution. That said, what’s more likely along that vein is us potentially getting some sort of stinger at the end of episode 24 with one character talking to That Certain Character, and us getting a brief, shadowy shot of said character to make people go “ohhhhh shit, dude.” 

but idk this anime has made some strange choices.

Going into that! I’ve mentioned this here and there and talked about it with a friend, but the choices the anime has made in terms of adaptation is, uh, pretty strange at times. When changes get made, my instinct is to try and think through why they were changed and, ultimately, if it really affects the story in any way. If I went through the entire anime, it would be an extremely dull read; please know, however, that I am forever sad we missed Jail’s computer antics and Pele being the ultimate shit when it comes to Nana’s video, even if I understand why they were cut. 

That said, episode 22 is a perfect example of this, so uh. Let’s dive in, shall we?

The chapters that episode 22 covers are chapters 33 and 34. The events leading up to it are pretty much the same, but episode 22 contains some divergences. Going through them quickly:

We see more of Pele and Hina trying to stop Douan from going after Lynn.

Sonohara doesn’t show up during this confrontation. Hina gets her “the body was too clean” line instead.

Because Sonohara doesn’t show up, it’s Douan who attacks Lynn instead, causing her injuries with rocks. In the manga, Sonohara shows up, is drugged by Douan, and shoots a couple of bullets at Lynn.

Nana is just randomly lurking around?? In the manga, it’s clear she got caught at the same time. I’m really not sure what was up in the anime. Douan just yanks her out from behind a wall.

Douan sits with Nana, Hina, and Pele until morning, telling them he’ll kill them at dawn if Licht doesn’t show up. In the manga, he sits back and lets Sonohara terrorize them with a game of Russian Roulette, and Hina promptly (without words) calls Sonohara’s bluff.

Jail doesn’t show up in this episode at all. Instead, Hina gets his “did you check?” line.

We actually see Nana leave with Pele when he takes Lynn off. It looks like we’re going to actually see Doctor Pele in action, maybe? Hina is later sent off to help them.

Sonohara shows up towards the end, already drugged. Based on Douan’s line, it’s assumed that she was drugged off screen by the Secret Service. In the manga, he forcefully injects her.

The end of the episode sets up episode 23 to be Licht vs. Douan and Sonohara, with the preview showing Jail jumping into the fray.

whew, that’s a lot. 

I actually get why most of these changes were made! Setting up the penultimate episode of the series to be this big battle is a necessary change for an anime. And narratively speaking, this is much cleaner than it was in the manga, where Sonohara shows up briefly at the beginning of chapter 33, is drugged, and then basically exists to be crazy and antagonize people. It’s less balls in the air for the staff to have to juggle and for the audience to follow.

Douan’s character also gets some more depth. It’s funny because I feel like in the anime, he’s much more cruel than he was in the manga originally -- which is a feat, let me tell you. The anime flipped that in this episode, though, by not having Douan force the drugs onto Sonohara. 

The manga frames it as him doing it because he believes he knows what’s best for her, he’s trying to protect her in his own awful way, but it’s also, you know . . . nonconsensual as hell and gross on so many levels. This takes that off his shoulders which is a good change, honestly. 

But we lose some little character moments for the others in terms of streamlining. I think the thing that bums me out the most is Jail’s stuff. In the manga, after the confrontation with Alan, Jail steps in, calls Sonohara out and snaps her out of her drugged stupor without much of a fight (”without conviction, your bullets can’t pierce me”) and then slaps down the iron throne, telling Douan to shut up because Licht is coming. Chapter 34 ends with him just dead-eye staring at Douan like yeah, it’s annoying, but look. You’re the one who calls him a cockroach. Jail saying “did you check?” is a major mic drop moment and it’s basically when, from then on, Jail does not give a single flying fuck about the barons / aces. 

It definitely should be noted that some of these Jail moments will probably pop up in other ways in the next episode. I fully expect the bit about Sonohara’s bullets to come up, at least.

We lose out on Sonohara stuff too, though. She willingly throws herself into the lion’s den, shooting at Douan to distract him for long enough to allow Lynne to get away. It’s Sonohara who points out that Licht’s body was too clean -- something that makes more sense as someone who’s known him for 300+ years, knows what it means to be a baron / ace, and wasn’t immediately dragged off by the Secret Service. Her then terrorizing them while drugged is also a moment because when she forces Nana to play Russian Roulette, Hina immediately grabs the gun and points it at her head, firing all the “shots.” It’s empty, showing that despite the drugs, Sonohara didn’t want to kill them and Hina knew that all too well.

with all that said, I should note here that it’s entirely possible this scene will show up in some form next episode. Sonohara is still drugged and Hina, Nana, and Pele are all together in the bunker that is right nearby. I kind of doubt it given how the episode is framed and because narratively, it makes more sense to focus on the Licht vs. Douan and Sonohara -> Licht and Jail vs. Douan and Sonohara fight than to have Sonohara split off to randomly terrorize them, but. Like I said, this anime has made some strange choices.

Of course, character moments we get instead are Hina and even Pele being metal as hell. As much as I’m flapping my hands about losing the little character moments for Jail and Sonohara, it’s clear that they thought about how to utilize those moments while streamlining things, and they do work for Hina. And honestly, it’s really nice to see more stuff with her and Lynn? They get some cute panels later on in the manga (think chapter 55), but I like ladies and I like some lady solidarity. And Hina getting those little moments is on the same level as her straight up pointing a gun at her head all “you won’t kill me.”

and on a selfish note, I am actually really excited to see Pele tend to Lynn. The anime has been good about fleshing them out more and giving them little moments. My little shipper heart is delighted.

In the end, does it change much? Not really. These are small things, ultimately, just like how we didn’t lose much with the added filler and cut moments during the school arc. It’s all ultimately in the name of adaptation and while it’s weird, it’s not necessarily “bad.” It’s jarring for me as someone familiar with the manga (and having stared at some of these panels for so long, I’ve gotten really familiar with it), but thinking on it critically, yeah, I can see why. 

they better damn well do the “how did you know I could do surgery?” scene in the last episode though or I will be super bummed, okay. 

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the Gryphon’s Quest! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 8 of 19

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DARING DO

and

THE GRYPHON’S QUEST!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

and

Carmen Pondiego

Cover art by Aranel the Cyborg, now  Wind the Mama Cat

29584 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 03/29/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed  on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the  express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.   They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original  characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or  fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without  charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for  their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Chapter 8. Into the wilderness

Daring Do laughed, a cheerful tone, after the recent events.  The fine gravel of the Royal Road crunching under hoof, she said, “No, I have made a note of it and WILL return at a later date.  What we need now is more important.  Those First Creation fanatics need to be stopped.

“I would rather stop them with facts instead of a war.”

Her harness creaking rhythmically as she strode up the road, Grata nodded, her crest lifted in the gesture of understanding.  “Doctor Do, I commend you.  You are not only an expert in an esoteric field, you are wise, as well.  We too, wish to end the grip of the fanatics on our Aeries without bloodshed.”

It was late evening when they finally reached the town of Eagle’s Roost.  In the dusk, they found an open inn.  To the surprise of Grata and Rahak, it was being run by a Gryphon.

He greeted them effusively, gesturing toward his substantial timber and stone building, “Welcome to the town of Eagle’s Perch and my modest inn, the Gryphon’s Perch!  I am Kraach.  What is your need?”

Grata responded, “Three things.  A safe place to park our cart.  A good meal for Rahak and I and something suitable for Doctor Do.  After that, we will need rooms for sleeping and a breakfast to see us on our way.”

Kraach turned his attention to their cart and his eyes widened.  “That cart is Rom work!  It will need to be guarded most carefully.  The ponies here in Eagle’s Perch are basically pretty honest but they are desperate for good wheel work.

“Our town’s wheelwright was killed about six months ago.  The farmers in the area are desperate for haulage. They are sharing the carts that still work well, trying to get the harvest in!”

Rahak asked, “What happened to the wheelwright and why has he not been replaced?”

Kraach’s crest fell in discouragement.  “What happened was a blot on the good name of Gryphons everywhere.  We got one of those idiot First Creation of the Twin Flames fanatics come to town.

“He saw a fine surrey belonging to the Baron in the wheelwright’s shop being fixed. Acting as if he owned the place, he demanded that he be taken on a tour of the town and local sights.

“Wheelwright refused because the surrey was not his and it was not yet repaired.  

“Idiot said that the concerns of the Later Created were of no interest and began to beat the wheelwright with his bare claws to “Teach him to do as his betters demanded.”  One of his claws cut the wheelwright’s jugular and he died of it.

The commotion drew a crowd who witnessed the murder.  They caught the killer and he was turned over to the Empress.  She did not listen to his First Created crap.  He got the Long Drop Without Honor.

“It needs a Baronial Appointment to replace the wheelwright.  We have THREE applicants but the Baron has spent all of his time down in Canterlot, instead of paying attention to his Barony.”

While he was talking, Kraach led them to the enclosed innyard.  He opened a locking storage bay and offered, “This should do to store your cart for the night.”

Rahak produced a lock and secured their goods.

They all trooped into the Inn.  Kraach ordered his staff, “Two Gryphon specials!  Make them with the big trout and a side of roast bunny.  One Alfalfa Loaf with fried potato on the side!  Get the drink orders for our guests!”

Afterwards there was a bit of time spent in the taproom, between singing some drinking songs and a few card games, it grew late.  Their rooms had spacious nests for the Gryphons and a comfortable, well appointed sleeping stall for Daring Do.

Breakfast was equally pleasant.  Kraach had noticed at dinner that the Gryphon’s diet of meats did not appear to bother Daring Do.  They were all three served breakfast at the same table.

When they unlocked their cart’s storage, Daring Do conferenced with Rahak and Grata as they went over their load.

Kraach asked in some concern, “Is all well with your things?”

Grata nodded, her crest jauntily up.  “Yes, good Kraach.  All is well.  We will be going past the last of the roads today and are preparing for possible difficulties.”  She returned to the readjusting of the load.

Some of the town ponies who had little else to do watched the unusual sight of a Gryphon pulling a cart while a pony and another Gryphon walked along on either side of it.

The morning sun was warming the road, making the shade trees planted along it welcome.  They came to the Eagle’s Perch fairground turnoff.  The Royal Road ended there.  Beyond it, there were only some Baronial roads and farm lanes.

Grata noticed the difference at once.  “Why is this road so much harder to pull the cart over?”

Daring Do replied, “Look closely at the road surface.  It is made up of the coarser #3 gravel and not well packed.  See the small ruts beginning? Crossing those ruts and the give in this surface from poor packing are why this road is harder to use.”

Soon the Baronial road dwindled to a lane with no gravel surface at all.  There were occasional gnarled roots rising out of the bare dirt, packed only by intermittent use.  In places, leaves were drifted over the surface, lending a loamy scent to the air as the party passed.

Daring Do quietly signaled a halt.  She took out her rifle and set the twenty round clip into it.  She worked the action to chamber a round. Rahak softly asked, “What is it, Doctor Do?”

Daring Do pointed to the path ahead of them.  “Tracks.  Six ponies and a cart with a bad wheel ahead of us.  None coming back.  Maybe it is a work party but it could be an ambush.”  She slung her rifle ready for instant action.

Rahak nodded and rummaged his luggage briefly.  He strapped on a Gryphon War Knife, a little shorter than a sword, but in skilled claws, about as deadly.

The party heard the voices before they got to the end of the lane.  As the source of the voices came in sight, it could seen that there were five farmers there, in an assortment of colors from Ugly Green to Barf Brown with a stop at Yuck Yellow.

They grinned, showing discolored teeth as Yuck Yellow announced, “Thanks for swapping us that cart for this one!  You ain’t leaving here unless you trades carts.  Got a paper says you do it and everything.”

He held up a paper that was headed, “CONTRACK OF TRADE.”

Daring Do replied, “Bad Idea, there.  This particular cart will get you five years at labor on the Royal Roads.  It is Princess Luna'a personal property.”

Hearing a rustle in the brush behind her, Daring Do dropped, shouting, “Down!”

Gata dropped where she was, still in harness.  Rahak leaped flat, drawing his War Knife.  Daring Do turned as she dropped, hitting in prone position, rifle at the ready!

The crossbow bolt, a lighter but still dangerous civilian one, passed through the air where Daring Do had been standing seconds before!  It slammed into the flank of Ugly Green, who squalled in pain, “Celestia drat you, Charlie!  You was supposed to shoot the one in the ugly hat, not me!”

Daring Do aimed at the disturbance in the brush which showed where Charlie was reloading his predator control crossbow.  Her rifle seemed to roar in the confined area of the turn-around!  Charlie screamed in pain and burst out of the brush, falling flat across the still unloaded crossbow!  A quiver of dangerous predator killer bolts scattered across the grass and dirt where he lay still.

As the others were stopped cold, staring aghast at the unmoving form of their buddy, Rahak leaped.

He landed astride Yuck Yellow, slashing with his War Knife!  

The CONTRACK OF TRADE fell from Yuck Yellow’s grip in two unequal pieces. His forelock gripped and pulled back forcefully, he felt the razor edge drawing a small trickle of blood from his throat.

Rahak said softly, “It appears that you have nothing to trade.  You need that cart to carry your wounded back to Eagle’s Perch.”

“Wounded?  Just Morty, there.  Charlie been shot!”

Rahak pointed out, “He is still breathing.  Wounded, not yet dead.”

Barf Brown spoke up, “You don’t understand.  Our town got not wheelwright, thanks to one like you!  We wouldn’t have never done this if we was not in such need.”

Grata had got up, still in harness.  “Not one like us.  A religious fanatic nutcase.  The Empress sentenced him to the Long Drop Without Honor.

“It is due to another who IS like us, Kraach, that you have survived this blunder.  He warned us of the problem.  Take your wounded back to town.

“The Empire will take account of your Baron’s negligence and not charge you.  Your Baron will be required to make that appointment for a new wheelwright.”

Barf Brown chuckled sourly, “Never happen.  Baron Larbut is messing about in Canterlot.  He got to make the appointment.”

Grata lifted her crest as she informed him, “I am aware of the issue.”  She removed a Magic Net mirror from her under wing bag.  Tapping practiced codes with her dexterous claws, she spoke.

“Grata here.  By order of the Imperial Throne’s Left Wing, I must speak to the Princesses immediately.”  

The pause was brief.  Both Princesses showed in the mirror.  “What is it, Grata?  What does the Imperial Throne need?”

Yuck Yellow, Barf Brown and the rest nearly choked as they realized just how deep the cesspool was that they had jumped into!

Grata replied, “The citizens of Eagle’s Perch are suffering from Baron Larbut’s criminal negligence.  It has driven them to a criminal assault on the Left Wing of the Imperial Throne and the attempted theft of Princess Luna'a cart, on loan to Doctor Daring Do.

“The Empire seeks Justice in this case.  There is to be no punishment for the citizens, two of whom are presently wounded. Baron Larbut must leave Canterlot to attend to his Barony.  He is not to be allowed to return, until a Royal Audit finds his Barony to be in proper order.”

Luna and Celestia both nodded.  “Not a problem.  It will be as you request.  Do you know if they are in need of a Royal Benefice to pay for short term problems?  It will be drawn from the Baron’s personal accounts.”

Grata looked over at the faulty boards and poor wheels of the cart that the others were loading Charlie and Ugly Green into.  “I would say so.  The state of all of the rolling equipment in Eagle’s Perch that I saw was from fair to ruinously bad.  This is purely due to the Baron’s negligence of his duties to his populace.”

Luna nodded briskly.  “I am sending a Royal Appointment for the wheelwright.  I saw the applications and am familiar with the work of each.  The Baron told me that it was not important.  That is now overridden.  The Sheriff of Eagle’s Perch will receive both instructions and the appointment within the hour.”

Grata raised her crest in full respect as she replied, “Thank you, your Highnesses, on behalf of the citizens of Eagle’s Perch and the Empire.” She put the mirror away.  Crest set in a smile, she said, “Go now, and thank Kraach.  If he had not notified us of the situation, this would have ended quite differently.”

As they started to pull their load down the lane, Ugly Green lifted his head above the weathered side boards of the cart and said, “Ma'am, we are sorely ashamed of ourselves.  You have showed us what a real just ruler is like.  We thanks you.”

With Daring Do scouting the way, they forced a way into the wilderness beyond the last of the roads.  Once past the vicinity of the cultivated land, the forest opened out some and it was easier, though still not foal’s play.

Taking a turn in harness, with Rahak scouting ahead, Daring Do grumbled with good nature, “Wheels are WAY overrated!”

She was working the cart over some complex roots, partly hidden by the pine needles that littered the forest floor when she felt the assist of Grata’s shoulder pushing from behind.

She commented jokingly, “Thanks.  Isn’t this a bit low class for the Left Wing of the Imperial Throne?”

With complete seriousness, Grata replied, “If one cannot serve when that is needed, one is not fit to rule at all.”

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[besidemethewholedamntime]

the stars are out tonight 

A gift for my bestest bean @larariannons - I hope that you feel better soon <3

Summary: 

"In his dreams she is waiting, the way she was when he asked her to dance. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are sparkling and she reaches out her hands to welcome him, but when he reaches back she disappears, like a puff of smoke dissipating in the wind." Fitz thinks of Jemma often. A sequel to 'the last sunlit walk'

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

-x-

He thinks of her often.

It’s not always a conscious thought, a thought of Oh, I miss Jemma that pops into his head though that certainly is frequent enough. More often than not it’s in the small things: the way the butler has rearranged the library using the system she thought of, the cook rescuing a spider from underneath the table instead of squashing it with her rolling pin, and the maids singing again as they throw open the shutters in the morning and usher in a new day.

It’s been two months now, since that dance that meant everything and yet could mean nothing at all. He’s learnt to live with the loss. Jemma was only here for a short time, this is what Fitz reminds himself. She was here for only the Summer and he never even knew her before then. She was just a cousin of Hunter’s, nameless and faceless with a title in her own right but barely the money to match it. Her guardians were intent on finding her somebody, sure that at Fitz’s nuptials there would be an eager young Earl or Baron just waiting for Jemma Simmons. Fitz remembers laughing at the letter when Hunter came with the request. Oh God, he’d said, back when she was just an idea. That’s such a pity.

She’s not nameless or faceless now, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t make her so.  In his dreams she is waiting, the way she was when he asked her to dance. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are sparkling and she reaches out her hands to welcome him, but when he reaches back she disappears, like a puff of smoke dissipating in the wind.

He stands and looks at the stars tonight, standing on the deck outside the ballroom where they danced what feels like a lifetime ago. It’s September now and the nights have a certain bitter chill to them, the wind whistling through the hills that surround the estate. He should get a coat but he doesn’t want to move and break the calm that he only feels out here.

The sky is beautiful, a thousand twinkling lights. When he was a young boy, before he went away to school, his father used to stand with him in this very place and point out the constellations, holding Fitz’s hand and tracing them out. His father was a tall man, with a loud voice and hard eyes and even when he was home he wasn’t, too lost in his own head and his pursuit for knowledge that he hardly acknowledged anyone around him. Fitz’s last memory is of him clasping his hand to the point of pain and nodding tersely when Fitz was leaving to go to Oxford. It’s the last time he saw his father before he died.

He hadn’t been planning to return, or at least he planned on his father living much longer before Fitz was forced back into the fold. He had planned on a lot of things: on travelling, studying, on finding a wife whom he loved and loved him in return. He had planned on his father being sensible, on not getting himself into so much debt that Fitz is sure he died just so he could get himself out of it. It would be exactly like the old man – leaving his mess for other people to clear up without a thought in the world as to how they’d do it.

His wedding was something that he prepared for half-heartedly, and even before he met Jemma he knew that this marriage was one born of convenience and mutual interests – he wanted money and she wanted a title - and not of love. He had hoped for mutual respect and perhaps adoration if it came to that. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it meant that his mother and the servants and staff that had raised him would get to stay in the house. It was a price that he, however reluctantly, had been willing to pay.

That’s all gone now, plans fallen apart as easily as a house of cards, one by one until nothing remains. First Jemma left, an almost unbearable agony, followed by his fiancée leaving, an agony of lesser quantity so much so that it hardly qualified as an agony at all. A proposition of a better nature had come in. I’m sorry, dear, but Duchess just has such a better tone to it, don’t you think? Don’t fret, I won’t ask you to return any of the money I’ve already spent – that would be quite improper – but I shall have to insist that is it. There shall be no more. I am sorry, but this is for the best. Don’t you agree?

She had left that night and not one person had been sorry to see her go. The money had been enough for a while, and it keeps them floating while he searches for for another way to float the sinking ship. It’s been two months since then, though, and they’re in very real danger of being pulled under the relentless waves.

“Knew I’d find you out here.”

Fitz doesn’t turn around but sees Hunter join him out of the corner of his eye. He’s been coming over a lot lately, the two of them trying to devise any plan to save them all. Of course there is only one answer, really, but it doesn’t stop them trying.

When Fitz doesn’t answer Hunter only sighs, moving in closer until they stand side by side looking up at the stars. “It’s getting cold. Maybe you should come inside.”

“Have you heard from her?”

It’s the first time he’s asked in these last two months, indeed the first time he’s been brave enough to do so. He doesn’t know why he thinks to ask now, but there’s a feeling in his chest that tells him he should.

Hunter sighs again. “Yes. She’s sent a letter.”

The cold cannot touch him. This is the first time somebody else has mentioned her and it makes her real again, not just some figment of imagination his broken heart has conjured up. He can almost feel the warmth in his face from that fragrant Summer night when it felt as though, if they only kept on dancing, eventually everything would be alright.

“Is she happy?”

“Fitz…” Hunter’s voice carries a warning, reminding him that there’s a reason they’ve never spoken of her. “You don’t want to do this to yourself.”

He turns to his friend, not embarrassed by the slight glimmer in his eye. “Please,” he says. “I’ve just… I’ve got to have something.”

Isn’t that what he told her that night, the first and only time he ever held her in his arms? I have to know, I just – I have to have something. There he was, bound by duty to a marriage he knew would only cause him pain and he asked her to give him the only thing that would make it bearable; knowing that Jemma Simmons felt the way same as he did, that she loved him, too.

I take it you won’t be coming back.

No. I won’t be. You’ll have your new life. I think it’s best I try to find mine.

It was right, sensible as only Jemma could be. If plans had gone ahead as they should then she never could have come back, and if she had come to visit Hunter then he never could have known. Even glancing at her across a crowded ballroom would have been like a dagger to his heart, a pain so great he wouldn’t have been able to move for it.

His fiancée had known about it, he’s sure of it. He felt terrible about it, for loving another that was not his bride to be, and continued to feel awful until she left. Why should he care now, about her feelings? The only thing she cared about was the title and soon she’ll be a Duchess with some marvellous estate down south and he’ll be…

Well, he’s not entirely sure.

“Mate-” But at Fitz’s look he relents and says, “She’s alright. She’s gone to Hillfoot House.”

Fitz frowns. “That’s not her estate.”

“No, it’s not. It’s the one at the border, you know with the farm and the village. Said she wanted to get away from it all for a while.”

Jemma’s family have old money but simply not enough of it. Or at least that’s what he thought. He wasn’t aware of her other estate. His face must betray his thoughts for Hunter says, “Don’t look like that, Fitz. The farm’s in profit and keeps that one ticking over. There’s not enough to spare. She can’t bankrupt herself to save you.”

“I would want her to,” he says tightly, briefly looking down at the ground before looking back up at Hunter. “Does she know?”

“About the wedding?” Then: “Yes, she does.”

Fitz scrubs looks away, scrubbing his hands down his face as he does. He entertained visions, when the wedding was called off, that Jemma would be told and that she would come back. Maybe not to marry, not to stay with him, but come back at least. Draw out the Summer for a few months more. As the weeks have worn on his only solace might have been that she hadn’t heard, that she’d buried her head and simply hadn’t known the scandal. Of course that’s not the case, now, and the tiny flame of hope that he has by some miracle kept burning flickers and dies.

I think it’s best I try to find mine. That’s what she’d said. That’s why she hasn’t come back. She’s finding her new life, far away from him to spare them both the heartache. He can’t run away, as much as he wishes to. It’s never been an option for him.

He nods, throat too tight to speak, and looks back up at the stars. Such dependable things. They never change. When the world below them is awash in chaos and misery, falling apart at the very seams, they continue to shine on into the infinite. How wonderful to be so unaffected by it all.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Fitz,” Hunter says again, sounding like he’s tired of doing so. “It’s not an option.”

“I could-”

“No. You can’t marry her.” There’s such a fire in Hunter’s words that Fitz has to look. “The she-devil may have gone but it doesn’t matter. You know it and she knows it. You were never going to be able to marry Jemma. That’s why everyone thought it was such a blessing that you met her when you did. You were already engaged, never would have broken it, and it saved you from wanting the one person that you could never have.”

There are tears burning in his eyes, hot and painful, almost as painful as the burning in his heart. “I hate my father.”

Hunter laughs shortly. “He always was a slippery bastard, your old man.”

He certainly was. Nobody could ever catch him. Fitz hated him, never loved him, but he does understand him. Alistair Fitz had other dreams, and the frustration that he couldn’t properly chase them made him who he was. Fitz doesn’t want to be like that, but he feels his heart grow harder. He can’t go back to Oxford, he can’t be with who he wishes… It feels a lot like history repeating itself.

“If-” He begins, but Hunter doesn’t let him wander. He looks like he’d rather be inside.

“You two would be a good match, there’s no denying it. You’re stupidly perfect for each other and it made the rest of us nauseous quite frankly. Your mother used to talk about setting up a match.”

The possibilities of it, the way things might have gone in a better life, make him feel brittle. To know that Jemma Simmons could have ben his wife if not for the destructive nature of his father makes him feel as though he could shatter, for he holds himself to tightly he’s sure he’ll explode into a thousand shards. It’s like he was handed something, something he got to hold for a second, and now it’s been snatched away.

“How do you know that?”

A shoulder bob from Hunter. “Mother was talking about it. She said it was a shame.”

Fitz feels so tired. “Of course.”

The stars twinkle back at him. Once, during those midsummer nights, he’d taken a walk in the gardens. It had been well after midnight but he had been unable to sleep, his mind twisting and turning with thoughts let loose by the dark and the quiet. He’d expected to be alone, and had thought he was, until he’d turned a corner and there had been Lady Jemma Simmons, standing on the grass and looking up at the sky.

“What are you doing out here?” He had asked. “It’s a little late, is it not?”

She had turned to him, face full of thoughts, and cocked her head. “I could say the same for you.”

They had talked for hours on that July night, neither of them troubled by the outside world. They had talked so long that the only thing that stopped them was the traces of dawn bleeding through the dark sky and it had been with reluctant sighs they had walked back to the main house and parted ways.

“I miss her,” he says, voice cracking slightly in a way that would embarrass him if only he wasn’t standing beside his best friend.

“You’ve got a duty,” Hunter reminds him bluntly, not indulging his lamentation. Fitz understands, but still it stings. “You said so yourself.”

Yes, he has a duty to provide and ensure the comfort of the people who have provided for him all of his life. He cannot forget it, though his current state of wretchedness is making him dangerously close to doing so. The consequences of it if he does forget are life-altering and there will be no going back. Marriages are alliances, business transactions and nothing more. A means to an end. To live without love will just have to be something he learns to bear.

“My duty isn’t favourable.”

“Duty is just duty, Fitz. Nobody’s ever said anything about liking it.”

Of course not, because that would be too much. Imagine all those young men and women over the country doing what they do for their own happiness as opposed to the happiness of others. To make their own lives rather than ensuring the continued success of their parents’. Marriage is to keep the money and the blood in one place, a desirable place, rather than have it spread amongst the population like an unstoppable disease. We’re infected, he thinks, and we like it. We can’t get enough.

Jemma Simmons is a countess in her own right, with a lands and money, and yet it’s still not enough and it never will be. He needs to marry, and marry soon, because as long as they’re both free there will always be this small part of him that will keep on hoping, waiting for a miracle.

He sighs, resisting the urge to scuff his foot on the stones. “Would be nice to just have a choice.”

Hunter turns to look up at the stars as well, and there’s a long silence before he says, “Well you do have a choice, mate. It’s just not an easy one.”

“You know that I couldn’t leave,” he tells Hunter. “I can’t.”

“Well there you go then.” He looks at Fitz and seems to soften slightly, no longer feeling the need to be the devil’s advocate. “She’s trying, Fitz. She’s really trying. You should do the same.”

He steps forward and touches Fitz lightly on the arm. “I’m going inside. Come in when you’re ready,” he says, and then he is gone.

Fitz doesn’t want to try. He wants Jemma. Doesn’t he deserve happiness? He looks up at the stars again, the way they just keep shining, and he wonders if, somewhere, Jemma is looking at them, too.

“I know what I promised you, and I know I’m letting you down it’s just… it’s just hard when you’re not here.” There’s nothing to interrupt him, no sound from anything, and it’s with a lump in his throat he continues on.  

“I hope you get to be happy, Jemma. I hope at least one of us is… I’ll marry someone, I’ll keep the estate afloat but it won’t be right… there’s never going to be anyone else but you.”

He gives the words time to float, time to be heard, hoping that, somehow, they'll find their way to her.

[astaralys]

*watches Frozen 2*

*RESURRECTS*

I started this blog when I wrote my first Frozen fanfic, The Sky Is Awake. It’s been five years. FIVE. YEARS.

I need more snow sisters. And I need answers and closure but I ain’t got a pretty water horse to ferry me to Ahtohallan to find them, so I started writing my own ‘Frozen 3′ fanfic. I humbly and sleep-deprivedly (it’s a word okay Anna invented it for Elsa) present the first chapter of a new multichapter story that I may soon regret starting because it’s already consuming my life with “AND THEN WE HAVE TO MAKE THIS BADASS THING HAPPEN” epiphanies.

Which kind of explains why the first chapter is, like, 7000 words. I’m sorry.

Here’s a snippet from my favourite scene (it’s not really a snippet. it’s the whole scene. I love them together. I love them together with chocolate). 

-

The Next Unknown

Summary: Some things never change; after Ahtohallan, though, quite a lot did. Now Anna and Elsa somehow need to find their own paths without losing sight of each other. But the world won't wait, and when more trouble washes up on Arendelle's shores, the sisters learn that sometimes you can't do the next right thing without the courage to confront what last went wrong. A post-Frozen 2 story.

[this scene comes from the middle of chapter 1 but now that I look at it, it’s practically a oneshot on its own??]

Elsa didn't need to knock because the doors were wide open

Technically speaking, there was no physical room for the doors to close at all. The floor of the study was littered with books and papers in precarious stacks, tracing a haphazard maze towards the desk, which was by contrast, unexpectedly uncluttered—except for the queen of Arendelle sprawled across it on her back, reading a missive held above her head, her bare feet tapping a gentle rhythm against the side of the desk. The same rhythm that had stubbornly rained down on Elsa's door for thirteen years.

Elsa stood at the doorway for a moment, soaking in the sight of her sister being both Anna and the queen at the same time. And something unclenched inside her, just a little, while something else tightened in its place. If only Father and Mother could see Anna now.

"It must take all of Kai's self-control not to come in and tidy this."

Anna's head turned, the candlelight illuminating the joy in her eyes at the sight of Elsa picking her way across the room. "Oh, he tries. But then I tell him, 'If I can't find last year's shipment records where I left it next to the window with my pet rock on top, I won't be the one explaining to Elsa why we can't import the nice chocolate from Switzerland.' Works like a charm. Am I late for charades?"

"Not yet. Olaf is still going around asking the staff to write more words. Also, please stop terrorising the kingdom in my name."

Anna scoffed and raised a finger to make a point. Then stopped to sniff the air. She shot upright. "Is that hot cocoa?!"

Elsa held the mug out of reach. "It looks to me like our chocolate imports are faring quite well indeed," she teased.

"Looks to me like I'm the one being terrorised." Anna's give me motions intensified.

Smiling, Elsa gestured for the missive that had fallen into her sister's lap. "I'll trade you."

"Be my guest; it concerns you more than me anyway." Anna all but poured the beverage down her throat. "Ack! Hot hot hot!"

Sighing in fond exasperation, Elsa reached over and wrapped a hand around the mug to cool it. Then she leaned back against the desk beside Anna's crossed legs and skim read the letter, though the familiar crest of arms on the top made it easy for her to predict its contents.

She grimaced.

Anna nudged her, mirth swimming in her voice. "Well? Should I write back to Lord Nilsen and let him know it would be my honour to have his son as my brother-in-law?"

"Lord Nilsen's son could easily have been my brother-in-law. I received his proposals for your hand year after year."

"Too bad, already spoken for. You, on the other hand, are not. Are you sure you don't want to give what's-his-name a chance? I hear he's quite a looker!"

"He is." Elsa refolded the parchment along its creases. "We met him two years ago, do you remember? He attended Buferdsdagen with his father."

"Really?"

"You played hide-and-seek with him."

"… I what?"

Elsa handed the letter back to her sister, trying not to laugh. "If I remember correctly, Tobias Nilsen just turned twelve years old."

Anna blinked. Then she dissolved into snorts and giggles. "Twelve!" she gasped. "That's worse than the old baron who wanted to make me his third wife!"

"Fifth wife," Elsa corrected mildly, as she rescued the hot cocoa.

"Twelve!" Anna screeched again, collapsing over Elsa. "Everyone wants their own snow queen," she giggled, wiping her eyes. "Well, they can't have her. She's all mine." Her tone descended into suspicion. "... Unless she's interested in someone?"

"She is not," Elsa replied smoothly.

"Ryder?" Anna took one look at her expression and moved on. "Yeah, can't see that happening either. Honeymaren? Because you know I'd be totally cool with that—which is not to say that you need my approval to be interested in anyone… well. Maybe. Actually, yes. Let me at 'em."

"Anna." Hiding a smile, Elsa tugged on a pigtail. "I'm not interested in anyone, or in anything more than what I already have. I am spoken for. I have a sister I love more than anything, even if she is at times unbearably nosy."

"Nonsense. You love my nose." Anna rested her cheek atop Elsa's head. "But you'll tell me if that changes?"

"My sentiments on your nose?"

"You know what I mean!"

Don't I tell you everything? It was there on the tip of her tongue. It was so easy to say.

Until another voice stole over hers. But you didn't. You haven't.

I won't. I can't.

Tell her you're making her a scarf. Tell her why. Tell her that you know.

Hiding her clenched fists in the folds of her dress, Elsa heard herself say, "Who else would I tell, silly?"

Maybe if Anna hadn't yawned at that moment, she would have noticed something. But she only rubbed her eyes and said, "I don't know, sis—the way you've been starting to smell like reindeer, it's only a matter of time before you start talking to them like Kristoff."

"You're incurable." Elsa's voice softened. "Tired?"

"Nope. Maybe. Kinda. But I'll not be called a workaholic by you of all people. See, I know how to delegate. This is all I have left for today!" Anna made a grand sweeping gesture at the modest stack of missives on her desk. "Which reminds me: I need your advice on a few things… well, alright, a whole mountain's worth of things. But we can go over it later. How long are you staying this time?"

It was her effortlessly light-hearted tone that gave her away. On any other person, it could have been a question about the weather. Only Anna was neutral about exactly nothing, especially when it came to Elsa. And Elsa had to bite back the urge to say 'As long as you need me to' because Anna, of all people, had managed not to ask 'Can you stay?'

They were both dreadful liars. But Anna she was getting very good at being queen.

Elsa set aside Lord Nilsen's letter and straightened, habitually steadying Anna before she could tumble off. Then she turned around and raised a hand to her sister's face, gently brushing away a curl. Anna's curious stare melted into a contented smile as she pressed her cheek against Elsa's hand. "What's up?" she asked, her eyes crinkling with faint mischief.

There you are.

Elsa shook her head slightly and smiled back. "I will be around long enough that we can postpone games night until tomorrow."

"What about the tomorrow after that? And tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow?"

"Yes, Anna."

Now Anna's expression was radiant. "And Olaf's birthday?"

"I'm always there for Olaf's birthday."

"But you'll be around until then?"

Elsa cupped Anna's face in both her hands and leaned in so their foreheads touched. "Yes. I'll be here."

"Okay," her little sister whispered, her hands pressing over Elsa's.

A moment of stillness cocooned them. Elsa could not freeze this moment, either.

Then Anna jerked up and cracked her nose into Elsa's brow. "Wait—why are we postponing games night?"

The rest is on ff.net here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13467233/1/The-Next-Unknown. Thanks for reading!

[geek-gem]

Now considering I did this with the first two Resident Evil films. But now I’m doing one with Doom. To be honest I stalled on this. 

I’m just gonna say some stuff. I love the Doom franchise, I love the video games. Including I love the character of Doomguy/Doom Slayer. But I’ve only seen bits of the movie and I have watched the first person scene on YouTube. Including I know how the movie goes with Filmcomicsexplained detailing the story of that 2005 movie.

Including I just don’t wanna watch the movie. Because it’s one of those video game movies that just doesn’t treat it’s source material right enough, and just doesn’t overall seem like a good film. Even if it had little things you can like. Along with the fact despite the upcoming movie Doom Annihilation having actual demons now. The idea Universal decided to put it as a direct to video movie instead of in theaters. Which is really disappointing but considering the 2005 film bombed, I could understand. But the fact of how the film looks and just.....it’s stupid. Despite some things I have read that Doomguy is in the film still.

To be honest I wouldn’t mind it two ways. One we might not get another Doom film again or just maybe we shouldn’t get one. Two a Doom film can work in some regards. Yet to be honest I feel like what I read of people wanting a, “Avengers” big movie seems very ridiculous and I wouldn’t mind a low budget or just....a simple movie can work.

But I shouldn’t make that the point. The point of this post is a what if situation of if that first Doom movie was while a loose adaption, a better movie that respects the source material more. Basically actual demons and other shit. Yet also I have thought about taking elements from the games and even well novels. Which might piss some fans off of the novels part. Don’t worry the demons aren’t aliens they are actually still demons and not mutants like in the film. 

Yet the idea was of to make a film that I guess honors the Doom franchise. While also mainly sticking with the original game. But also taking elements from other stuff such as Doom 3. Which is a game I do like as well. 

Basically a loose adaption that isn’t perfect but respects the Doom franchise itself and could be it’s own take on the franchise. Especially as someone who has thought of a Doom movie of how it could work. Such as taking elements from the 2016 game. But we are focusing on what was released in 2005. Honestly I’d should start making this now, sorry to ramble on.

Synopsis: It is 2022, humanity has been able to reach beyond Earth and go to other planets. Such as Mars with the corporation known as UAC has made it possible living there. Especially it’s moons Phobos and Deimos

But also behind the scenes, the UAC has been performing secret experiments with teleportation. Yet during these experiments they’ve unleashed something truly terrible. A portal to literal Hell. 

Now with the facility has been overrun with demons. Killing almost everyone and even many becoming possessed and acting like zombies. Especially it’s worse with other demons that are more ferocious such as the Imps, Pinky’s, and more. They are all over the UAC Mars Research Base, and Mars City.

A group of survivors try to survive this onslaught. When all hope seems lost, a marine(Dwayne Johnson) who was punitively posted at the facility is determined to kill all the demons and make sure they don’t get back to Earth. Including take down the now insane Dr. Malcom Betruger(Robert Englund) who has sided with the demons, intent on helping them get to Earth.

Characters.

Dwayne Johnson as Flynn Taggart The Doomguy: A 29 year old corporal who is sent to the Mars facility to assist as punishment for assaulting his senior officer who ordered him to shoot a group of civilians. 

He’s more of a, “Actions speak louder than words” kind of guy. The, “Strong Silent Type” kind of marine. Doesn’t really speak unless he feels like it or if it’s necessary. Capable of handling all different kinds of firearms. Including being quite fast during combat, hardly stressed at all, and strong as hell.

Despite what makes him seem to be a brooding loner who doesn’t seem to care for anyone. Especially before the outbreak everyone looked at him as if he was a scary brute. He’s actually a man with a big heart. Such as helping a person calm down during a situation when they need it, and cares more about other the safety of other people’s lives than his own. A honorable marine who hates bullies and seems chill when there is no combat.

But when the outbreak of demons happens, his team of other marines who he has made friends with are killed when investigating the base. Along with also his pet rabbit he brought to Mars is killed by demons.

With his friends and his own pet he considered family killed, and the demons intention to get to Earth, Flynn is determined to make sure they never reach their goals. No matter how many there are and how powerful they are.

Including during combat, he wears a helmet to protect his head just in case.

Notes: As a fun easter egg instead of him being 30 years old. I decided to have him be born on the day the original Doom was released. Which is December 10 1993. Meaning well yeah this film would take place in December. 

Along with the fact I know Dwayne in the 2005 movie was offered to play John Grimm but he chose to play the sarge. I wanted to make this fan casting. Along with the fact while I do agree with the idea Doomguy is a character in his own right that doesn’t need to speak and again a actions speak louder than words kind of guy. Including the fact he’s supposed to be the player character. 

Yet this movie version of the Flynn character who is more serious and more akin to what Doomguy seems to be like. Such as even the 2016 games. Basically more serious than what the novels described Flynn as. 

This version is basically I guess a representation of Doomguy as a person. If we didn’t go with the route of no talking and other things. He’s a Doomguy in his own right. But it’s a different take that I did to best respect the original character if I had to go with the route if he had to talk and other stuff.

Including let’s have a fun scene like the final shootout scene of The Rundown(A film Dwayne Johnson was in) but it’s Doomguy with the demons. Just showcasing Doomguy’s badassness in the scene. I’m talking about the Boom Shakalaka scene which I had watched before making this post.

Karl Urban as John “Reaper” Grimm: One of the few marines that has survived the onslaught of the demon outbreak on Mars. A Staff Sargent who seems rather angsty years after his parents who were UAC scientists died in a accident. But still cares for his Samantha Grimm and also a new friend of his named Emma Grace. 

While he didn’t take a liking towards Flynn at first assuming Flynn didn’t care for anyone but himself. He realizes Flynn and him share the same values of honor and other things. Especially in a way similar losses to his own.

Notes: I’m gonna say I like Karl Urban and from what I know people liked Karl as Reaper who is basically the Doomguy in the movie. But I have not watched the movie fully and wondered if I should. So I can’t make my own opinion. But I decided to keep his character and decided to keep his back story too for people who liked him.

Robert Englund as Dr. Malcom Bertruger: The Research director at Mars. After being teleported into Hell once and made a pact with the demons. Once a respected man who has now become evil, showcasing more of who he is. Especially after years being on Mars and helping the demons prepare for the outbreak. 

Including he is also responsible for brining back a once dead demon back to life into the now powerful Cyberdemon.

Notes: Originally I was gonna have Mads Mikkelsen(who’s also awesome) as Bertruger. Mainly cause of a reviewers comparison of the character to Hannibal Lector or whatever. But I thought Robert Englund was just a fun choice and just the idea of Freddy Krueger is the one who unleashes these demons or whatever.

Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Emma Grace: A rookie security officer who has been at the Mars facility for a while now. While despite being a officer, she’s has shown to be paranoid and the demon outbreak makes it all worse. But when she meets Flynn, she becomes more courageous after being inspired by Flynn’s determination and bravery. 

Rosamund Pike as Dr. Samantha Grimm: The twin sister of John Grimm and a doctor at the Mars research facility. She was one of the few people who began noticing something was up with Bertruger. 

Considering people liked Reaper and what I’ve seen on Tumblr some folks liked Samantha so she’s here too.

List of demons: Imps, possessed soldiers and overall zombies, Cacodemons, Pinky’s, Lost Souls, Barons Of Hell, and the Cyberdemon. With them while looking demonic, it’s respecting the original source material. But the film can make it’s own take on the demons. Yet the point being they have color and they just look demonic as hell. Also you can tell which one is which or whatever.

The Cyberdemon in a way is the big demon antagonist of the film. Including for this film I decided to keep it simple by mainly using the demons from the first game.

Also I just wanna spoil the ending and just talk about that. Basically the survivors are Flynn, Reaper, Emma, and Samantha. But Flynn because he wants them all to survive and he personally wants to take on Hell himself. He makes sure they all escape to Earth, making sure none of the demons get to Earth.

Flynn takes on the Cyberdemon and kills it. Including he finds Bertruger and maybe kills him or Bertruger dies on his own. Maybe becoming the Maledict. But also Flynn purposely decides to trap himself in Hell to take on the forces of Hell. Which speaks volumes about his character because he wants to make sure no demons even set foot on Earth.

Including being in Hell gives him more power, such as more speed, more strength, and he can’t get tired. The demons prepare to brace themselves for their new found terror of the warrior who has literally stood up to them during the onslaught of Mars. With Flynn embracing his situation and runs towards the armies of Hell. In vengeance for every innocent person who was killed by the demons by also Daisy.

It’s also a call back to the ending of Doom 64. Along with the fact considering what happened with the first Doom film. While a excuctive producer said if the first film was successful, there would be a sequel, but the film bombed. Yet for this if a Hell On Earth happened. This film has a solid ending but it’s open in a way. With also a smooth transition to a sequel if it got one.

Also for this can we get a different director. Considering looking at the directors list of directed films on Wikipedia. Maybe someone else like Peter Berg, or Paul W.S. Anderson(Yes I said his name but I feel the director for the Doom movie might be not the best choice). I did think of including Robert Rodriguez, but I don’t know if I would trust him with how I envisioned this movie.

Besides I should say this, if wait Paul and Milla Jovovich weren’t married yet so she wouldn’t be involved. XD Besides I heard that Event Horizon by Paul W.S. Anderson is basically what the Doom movie should of been or something.

But yeah that’s a lot of wrote. Well I hope anyone who reads this enjoys this. Really it’s just a simple what if idea for that Doom movie. Just tell me your thoughts on this. Whether it’s an idea or advice. Again I just wanted to get this out of my system and out of the way. I’m done with the tags, hope you folks in the Doomguy tag don’t mind this.

Edit(also a 2nd edit forgot to put the last period at the end of this too) I’d forgot to mention if this got a Rotten Tomatoes score, it be 34% probably that, basically the 2002 Resident Evil’s score. I’d think I’ll leave it as that unless people think the film sounds better than it is.

[dyketectivecomics]

Mystics in Therapy - Chapter 2: Groupthink

(Read on Ao3 or below!)

In this chapter: Zatanna and Constantine begin to lead group sessions for our young troubled mystics. (Spoilers for the end of Raven: Daughter of Darkness, and a few references to general pre52 canon. There’s a lot of mixing of canons & the biggest discussion/theme is a character’s death so keep that in mind & buckle up everyone!)

...

“Raise your hand if you have been personally victimized by Baron Winters,” Traci laughed, arm lazily outstretched as she watched each of the teens in the circle follow suit. It was the first thing to break the silence, the unnatural quiet of the room. Small smiles and a few chuckles escaped as everyone seemed to relax a little more.

They turned as the door creaked open again, Zatanna and Zachary following close behind her.

“Told you it was on the left,” Zach sneered, taking the empty seat on the far side of the room. Zatanna only rolled her eyes before taking in the room before her, nails tapping thoughtfully against the final empty folding chair.

They creaked with every fidget and shift the teens made, the metal old and worn. The room itself was lit well enough, but smelled faintly of a citrus air freshener. Too clean, too clinical. Zatanna shook her head, motioning for everyone to stand.

“No one’s going to be able to relax and open up like this. S’TEL TEG EMOS SEHCUOC NI EREH.”

None of the young mystics batted an eye as the chairs were all replaced by a two pairs of sofas and loveseats, all in varying styles. They took their seats again, carefully giving one another space, but none of them sitting properly on the cushions. Traci and Raven both had their legs tucked up, either under them or beside them. Zach had spread himself out on nearly the entire length of the couch opposite of the one his cousin shared now with the urban magician. Lori and Klarion shared the loveseat opposite of the one Raven occupied by herself, each letting their legs dangle over the armrest on the side and leaning against a pile of decorative pillows between them.

Zatanna’s eyes drifted around, carefully watching each of the teens and trying to gauge just how open they might be for this first session together. Not one of them were dressed in their usual hero outfits, instead sporting mixes of graphic tees and lounge wear, a few identifying accessories for personal style.

One would think this were a support group like any other, possibly one for wayward teenagers, instead of young mystics coping with a grave loss.

“Anyone want something to drink before we start? Or snacks? These things can run a little long-”

“Gods, can we just get started already?” Lori groaned, “We all watched Skye die. We’re all super conflicted and probably fucked up over it more than usual! Is that what you want to hear? Is that where we’re supposed to start?”

Raven starts tearing up, and Traci and Zach both roll their eyes.

“Real tactful there, Alice,” Traci grumbles as she conjures some tissue boxes, silently throwing them to each mystic. Klarion catches it expertly, Zach lets his fall at his feet, not bothering to move it. Traci passes the last one she has in hand over to the Titan at her side, giving a soft smile.

“I promise I won’t give you a lame nickname like barf boy’s over there, if you share first.”

The Titan gratefully accepted one of the tissues, shaking her head with a small laugh as she dabbed at her eyes. Zach stuck his tongue out at the magician before turning away again, appearing to take something out of his sleeve. Before Zatanna could call attention to it, Raven spoke up.

“I suppose I should be first… I was the one you all trusted to lead you-”

“I don’t remember putting it to a vote-” Zach started, his hands were occupied playing cats cradle with some glowing string. Zatanna gave a flick of her wrist to snatch it telekinetically from his hands, deftly balling it up and making it disappear in some sleight of hand.

“Shut up, Zach,” was the chorus echoed around the circle, to which the team laughed.

“One of the first rules of group therapy,” Zatanna started, “Be mindful and respectful of one another. I would hope that we’re mature enough to not have to resort to a talking baton to pass around-”

“Nope.” “All good.” “Hear you crystal clear, Miss Zee.”

The Leaguer nodded, turning to look towards the Titan then.

“Whenever you’re ready, Raven. If you need us to skip and come back to you, just say so.”

The empath took another breath, nodding before continuing.

“Like ripping off the bandaid. That’s how the expression goes, correct?” She paused, making tiny tears into the tissue, something to help distract and gather her thoughts. “I have been healing and helping… nearly all of my life. There have always been limits to what I can do. I have made my peace with that. But… It is different, when it is a teammate. Even one that we knew so briefly as we did Skye. I-”

She swallows carefully, “I wanted to help her. But how can we save someone who refuses that help? Why would she…” She sniffs a bit, waving a hand.

“Someone else wants to say something. I can feel it. Go on.”

Klarion and Lori both open their mouths to speak, talking over one another as they decided who would go first.

“I mean, I helped,” Lori laughed bitterly, “Not helped helped, but… Helped her to… You probably can’t feel it as much now, because there’s so many of us here, but I’m a leech. When I hijack someone’s powers, I’m always taking, taking taking. I mean… I killed her-”

“Don’t say that!” “She asked you to-” “That’s not fair-”

“I did!” Lori yelled, “Or I thought I did. At first. Maybe I didn’t take it all away, but if I hadn’t taken her powers she might-”

Zatanna reached over to gently tap the teen’s knee, breaking her rant before she could go too far.

“I don’t believe that, Lori-”

“Alice,” she bit out, “Call me Alice or call me nothing.”

“Alice,” the magician amended. “Some of us have found it helpful to go over the situation with others. In the League, we usually use it as an opportunity to prepare, to do better the next time we’re out in the field. But it can also be a little cathartic.”

There’s a beat of silence as each of the teens look at one another uncertainly, skeptically even.

“Do you want us to start where Winters tried to shanghai each of us individually?” Traci asked, “Or that last battle on Azarath?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Constantine watched his two charges for the afternoon as they carefully watched him. Amy was a small, strong-willed slip of a girl when she wasn’t galavanting as Princess Amethyst. Right now she was giving her glasses a quick polish with her Wonder Woman shirt before adjusting them on her face. She gave him a glare. Eddie was somehow a bit more unsettling to watch as he smiled at the occultist, all blood red skin and long horns that would make any demon John had faced before jealous. His leg was bouncing with what John could only imagine was either nervous or excitable energy. It didn’t seem like he’d sit still any time soon.

“You kids mind if I smoke while we’re at this, then?” He had the pack in his shirt pocket, already partially pulled as the pair gave their answers.

“No,” Eddie shrugged.

“Yes,” Amy said simultaneously, glaring even harder at the adult. He slowly tucked the pack back into his pocket. “I thought this was supposed to be a group session. Where’s the group?”

John sighed, rubbing at his neck before he took off the tie completely. The room was sweltering, and the demonologist was beginning to wonder if it was too late to change his attire.

“Winters’ little Night Force have something they need to work through together before we can join ‘em. So for now, unless those Shazam kids decide to join ya, we’re all we’ve got till they finish.”

The smile dropped from Eddie’s face then.

“Wait, Winters? As in Baron Winters?”

“What of it, lad?”

“I… I almost joined him. I… didn’t save the guy he sent me to save and… What happened? Oh my god!” He stood up and began pacing the room. Amy and John’s eyes only followed as he went.

“Relax, kid,” John started, “Listen, I’ve been through enough of these things to know how this needs to go. You can’t change what wasn’t in your control in the first place. But we can start talking about what is .”

He pat the seat a few times to invite Eddie to sit once more.

“So park it here, and let’s start by introducing us, yeah? You can go first…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With a rough, uncertain start, they worked through their memories, each teen filling in the gaps for the others as they went along, piecing together bit by bit exactly what had led to Skye’s final moments as they remembered them.

“And then she was… gone,” Traci said. “It was like she… tore herself apart or something. Next thing you know, someone said we had to go back to Wintersgate and well...”

Zatanna nodded solemnly, waiting a moment or two for someone else to speak up before she filled the silence.

“It’s part of grief. Wondering what you could have done differently, or what you wish to do now. It may even seem like a good idea, to want to bring her back-”

“Been to Hell, thanks” Lori said, “The sights sucked. Not planning on returning.”

“Who said she’s in Hell?” Klarion pointed. And the group soon devolved into petty argument.

Zatanna massaged her temple before raising her voice just slightly above even her usual booming projection.

It wasn’t a yell. She would deny that much.

“TEIUQ!”

The magical silence was nearly hysterical.

The magician sighed, thinking carefully on what she was about to say next.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Diana’s lip curled in disgust as the staff member finished giving his report to them, immediately standing, fist clenching. But she was also frozen in place. What was there to do, what action could be taken in the news of something so horrendous?

“Where are the children?” she asked first.

“Some of them have elected to stay overnight. Some are at their own homes,” he supplied. “We can get in contact if-”

“And where is Winters?” Diana growled.

“Easy there, luv,” John said, “This isn’t the first time he’s been indirectly responsible for something like-”

“Oh, but we would know all about something like that, wouldn’t we John?” Zatanna sneered, “I should’ve shut him down after that night. I should’ve exposed every last damned thing he had done after Dad-”

“The League will figure out what to do with Winters and how to bring him to justice,” Diana said, interrupting as she paced to look out the window. She gazed into the night, as fireflies danced in the fields and clouds gently rolled, blocking moonlight and starlight alike periodically. “We’ll need to go about that carefully, if what you have told me about the man is true. But our priority needs to be the children.”

“Hard to be in this line of work and not seen a few things to keep ya up night,” John shrugged, “One of the first prices to pay with magic, trading in your innocence.”

“Not all of us had to literally trade it,” Zatanna bit out, “But I’ll call around. See if we can get the community to put a ban on Winters. Make sure he can’t contact them-”

“You two should be the ones to talk to them,” Diana said. The tone of her voice made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion, or even a question. It was a command.

Constantine immediately started laughing.

“You can’t be serious? Zee may be somewhat qualified, maybe, but I’m hardly-”

“A cautionary tale? A man with more experiences and regrets to rival the most accomplished mystic?” Diana guessed, scoffing, “No, Constantine, you’re hardly the man I want for the job. But you’re the one that’s needed. Just as you always are.”

The exorcist closed his mouth, turning away from the amazon as he stuck his hands in his coat pockets.

After a few beats of silence, Zatanna found her voice.

“Diana…” she sighed, “What are we even supposed to say to them? This… This isn’t something that’s cured overnight.”

The amazon turned from the window, hand placed on her lasso as she thought for another moment.

“Tell them the truth. And give them the room to speak theirs.”

[kontextmaschine]

Roseburg

Okay, Roseburg. It’s the capital of the southern Oregon timber industry, which fell hard with the end of harvesting on federal lands in the early ‘90s.

It’s got a population of 20,000, in a town center at a bend in the river and several residential neighborhoods, with more modern retail north of the city center around I-5. Several thousand more live in outlying areas, and Roseburg is seat of Douglas County stretching to the coast counting 110,000 population in total.

The airport offers no scheduled passenger service. Flights to major mountain west cities are available 83 miles to the north or 90 to the south; equivalent service is available 15 miles from Bend.

The only college in the area is a community college.

The town center, oriented around a “couplet” (parallel one-way streets) for a Main Street in Oregon tradition, has government buildings and a roughly five square block downtown. The downtown is early-20th century in character, solid frontages of storefronts with 1-2 stories of residential above, with churches, banks, and apartment buildings on the periphery.

The downtown is not pedestrianized, but has been designed for cars to park on the periphery. One block of storefronts is block-through, with entrances on each of two opposing sides. Many storefronts are empty. Several bars and restaurants are active, with a few (plus a co-working space) that look to have opened recently. Other stores remain looking a little out-of-time, and several storefronts have been occupied by nonprofits, street-level offices, or enterprises that look to create low returns while occupying high spatial volume. A gym occupies one sizeable space, two large markets stand empty. Despite this emptiness, only the markets look truly dilapidated; others have intact windows and clean interiors and reasonably fresh paint and facades. Scattered throughout are several civic monuments and monumental-looking fraternal lodges.

Sloping away from this downtown, the town center contains more stores, warehouses, restaurants, and bars. On the I-5 corridor, several hotels and travel-oriented businesses serve the freeway, mostly north of the town center.

- - -

So, in some ways this is kind of what I’d been expecting to like - a resource extraction town for a collapsed industry, leaving a fully built-out but intact infrastructure ripe for use. With poor flight connections to finance centers and a local economy still tapering off as the legacy population drifts away, an obvious hope is to market the small-town experience to internet workers or others who generate resources in a way that doesn’t require an existing resource base in physical proximity, while in the interim, the courthouse, the remaining private-lands timber industry, and the highway services support a basic level of services.

The maintained facades, the nonprofit offices occupying storefronts, and the general effort to keep downtown looking active suggest a level of coordination by local elites in support of the city’s viability.

- - -

And it’s… Cascadia. It’s green but at the same time younger than the east coast or rust belt - the wilderness hasn’t been carved into as much, the people not guarded, exhibit the good down-home parts of “country” without much “narrow-minded bumpkin”.

Many stores and bars have signs at the doors saying to take hoodies off, no backpacks, no tweekers, this site recorded on camera. There are at many points one to three people who are obviously homeless or on drugs in view. A Greyhound bus stopped in front of one dilapidated market and disgorged 7 vagrant-looking people. Every day the city police log lists like 6 arrests. On sites where these mugshots are compiled and shared around you see these are usually about heroin, meth, thefts to buy heroin or meth, or parole violations by people with convictions about heroin or meth. Even among apparently functional people working behind counters and bars, there are more facial scabs than you expect.

There is, frankly, an absurd level of pro-military sentiment. Signs in all sorts of windows, military discounts everywhere, banners from some past event benefiting some charity for military families. A veteranarian’s office is painted with the American flag, silhouettes of dogs and soldiers saluting or wearing helmets. I wondered if there had been a military base closed nearby because even after a week traveling through much more “red”-than-Portland country I had seen more of that stuff but nothing near that level. I never saw any murdered-out trucks or Punisher skulls or Black Rifle Coffee or 5.11 or any other military-adjacent aesthetic, though. Wearing Chinese-replica BDU pants, I was sporting more of a tactical look than anyone I saw.

Douglas County gave 64% of its vote to Trump in 2016.

- - -

The clear signs of people coming together to keep downtown appealing, all the monuments, the particular aesthetic of the places catering to a downtown crowd (and of that crowd itself), the legacy of what you’d expect from timber barons and their clerks… I was like “oh I get this, there’s a strong country-club Republican strain.”

Knowing that the region’s forest workers were pretty radical (that’s an important thing about Oregon, its normative rural experience isn’t of yeoman farmers but forest workers) I was wondering when I was going to get a sign of that, eventually I realized the yay-military stuff was the expression of class solidarity I was looking for.

Knowing both of those I turned to the addicts and fuckups and was like “ohh, you’re the third player in this drama, the unvirtuous poor that the virtuous poor and white collar types can bond over identifying against”.

A good deal of the nonprofits taking up space downtown seem to be the prison-industrial-complex type, the therapy or treatment you get sentenced to, designed to employ the first group turning the third into the second.

- - -

Seeing Roseburg makes some things about Portland make sense. That, say, when timber collapsed some of the “worker” types or their kids moved to, or stayed in Portland and brought the ethic to food service.

Traditional Oregon is weirdly exclusive, had an anti-Californian sentiment in particular but I’ve heard stores from Washingtonians about getting their cars pelted with rocks in the 80s, the state’s most famous statement of boosterism included a direct request not to move here.

There’s very much a sense that Portland has become swollen with non-Oregonians who seek to impose themselves on traditional, rural, Oregon, I could see a distaste towards any idea of making Roseburg more Portlandish.  

When I walked in to look at the co-working space (it’s really just a period office building with individual offices) I overheard a guy saying that he could accept if they just made up a list of the guns it was okay to buy…

And the thing about a strong local elite invested in the future of your town is the town is under the control of a strong local elite with an interest in its future, presumably wanting to keep or develop it as its own playground.

At the same time, whoever owns all those buildings would very much like to see them filled at competitive rates  I’m sure, and property owners are the backbone of any local elite. (I do not know the in-town landholders’ relationship to the woodland barons.)

- - -

So. Promising. It’s a charming Portland-in-miniature, houses are still available in the $100s and apartments at $500/br/mo. Between empty and underused space there’s maybe 10 years of solid expansion before all the slack has been taken up, and by all appearances the local system would love to see it happen and has no better pitch than quality-of-life-experience, being what Portland was in the 90s.

(Even the class system isn’t terribly off, a lot of the “Portlandia” years were about importing a middle class to fit between the old money in the West Hills and the retreating border of “Felony Flats” across the river to the east.)

That said it’s not abandoned just waiting for my guiding hand, there are preexisting power structures and culture to accommodate or challenge. And if undermining the local culture is the last thing I want - it’s what appeals to me, and the loss of which I’m mourning in Portland – I’m already thinking “okay that’s honestly too Republican, but that’s the only way to end up with a tolerable culture after it floods with creatives so hey”.

This is assuming it does take off, which I honestly think is a good assumption, as the big west coast cities fill up and cascade down (in the interim, look at Olympia, Visalia, Sacramento, Eugene, and Fresno) but isn’t inevitable. Oregon environmental laws and declining influence of Republican state legislators could further undermine the rural economy. Things could just keep declining past the point of being able to keep up appearances - the VA hospital just closed its emergency room, and there are two more in the area but the reasoning was the difficulty of recruiting and maintaining specialized staff, and that’s a bad sign.

Maybe I’m just psyched to see an authentically Cascadian town again and I should check out some others before getting swept away, in Oregon alone I’m still virgin on Albany, McMinnville, Forest Grove, and Coos Bay.

Still, I dunno. Might be a site for a good life.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

The Dead Never Die: Revelation, Part 2

“The entire Kash’ebahl fortune. . .everything is in off shore account.  Rather than stuff everything in one faction.  I had left the large chuck of our financials where they were.  With enough to play within the Horde banking circuit, and some trickling through the Alliance side.  We had a bit of money still floating between the Steamwheedle and now Bilgewater Cartels.  But .. .”

Lazarius paused and pointed toward the ledger again.

“This is seventy percent of my families wealth.  Placed in the trust of the goblins of The Undermine. . . must have been over a century ago.  I hadn’t even thought about it since it hasn’t been touched or even looked at in nearly ten years. . .”

“Undermine.  There are only rumors that the capital exists.”  Kross said as he peered up between his master and the ledger.

Lazarius made a point to position his finger back over the ledger as he prodded it. “Not a rumor when I can track the money to an actual vault.”

Kross gave a very long pause as he continued to think the conclusive evidence over. His white eyes peering up toward the black pools of his Master.

“This is a bold move, Ser.”  he said cautioning him. “Infiltrating a city that may be a phantom.  Locating a vault that holds untold fortunes.  Getting past security.  What have we to go on aside from hear say and possible rumors?”

Lazarius studied him expression carefully.  He wasn't wrong.  There was no guarantee that any of this was even accurate.  They had no hard evidence save for a ledger.  Granted the money was there, but it was like trying to catch rain in a butterfly net.  

“I’ve never been one to simply suggest without first considering every option available.  We’ve got time.  This is not something we need to rush into without first considering our entire optional path.  We have to look at this from every conceivable angle, every possible outcome.  Perhaps it would not be a bad idea for me to speak with Baron Krazzlowe himself, as his families own fortunes are heavily tied with the city.  He must have some insight on it.”

Kross agreed, it would not be a very lucrative venture if they just rushed in and failed.  Especially if they were caught.  

“The goblin would know better than anyone.”

Lazarius nodded.  He had been meaning to make his way down to see the capital venture that Lokiren and Krazzlowe had put together down there.

“I believe that is something you should speak to the others about.  As I said, your sister and Koltun have been on-top of that.”  said the steward as he continued.

Lazarius would nod again.  He had been meaning to do so.  But the initial return was instantly thrust into a celebration.  They would share drinks and food. The students and staff were welcomed to attend, most of them all knowing the plight that faced the order when their beloved Inquisitor went missing.  

But through the entire affair, Lazarius had noticed the goblin and trickster were not present.  Nor was his supposed brother-in-law, he would have to indeed do as the old Gilnean suggested and pay his twin a visit.  He had been meaning to anyway.  The three siblings only shared a few tender moments during his return before all them were forced back into getting their adjustments back in order and their lives back together.

“I will do just that.  I should probably let her rest for now; not that she slumbers.  But it is well past ninth bell.  All of this talk and thought of a possible heist has stirred my senses anyway.  I think now might be a good time for me to pay a visit to a place I have long since forgotten about.”

Kross wouldn’t know what he was talking about.  He wouldn't even presume to know, and it would be an insult if he attempted.  The old man would simply nod and wait to see if his Master had any intentions of divulging his secrets.

“I remember a time when this place was barren with activity.  Able to walk these halls in silence.  Contemplate the here and now, listen to the haunting winds curl through the corridors and thruways.”  there was a sigh after that, Lazarius peered toward the Steward.

“You are reminiscent of a time when we were still within our stage of infancy, Ser.”  he responded shortly after.  “A time of new beginnings.”

Lazarius sipped from his wine chalice and scoffed into the rim.  He swallowed the burning bitter liquid and nodded at his companion.

“A time when experimentation and innovation thrived.”

Kross smiled softly, it was hidden behind his beard and mustache, but there none the less.

“You certainly put yourself through the ringer in those days.”  

“I did, didn’t I?” the black eyes of the dark lord would peer around the room. “Before I was able to do all this. . . several days awake trying to force myself to find answers.”

“How things have changed. . .”  Kross added.

“Yet stayed the same.”  Lazarius finished, and smiled.

Kross was unsure but something was beaming in his vision.

“Are you alright, Ser?”

CLICK CLACK

There it was again.  The black eyes of the Inquisitor would peer around the room.  Something disturbed him, something was pestering his mind.  Lazarius turned his attention back to the old man and nodded, waving a wrapped set of fingers at him while he collected his thoughts.

“Of course. . .yes, yes.  Just. . . I haven’t been down to the lower levels of the Bastille in years.  I sealed off so many rooms down there . . .so much history.  So many memories.  They call to me, you know?”

“Ser you don’t have to explain to me the feeling of being sentimental about the past.  I am reminded constantly of what we have been through, who we have lost and who has returned to the shadows. . .” the old man stated as he began to gather whatever else he’d need to leave.

“It isn’t that. . .I can’t put a finger on it.  I haven’t been down to Asphodel’s laboratory since she returned to Stormwind to begin repairing the damage to her family.  I haven’t stepped foot in the Sanctum since Maliscia went missing and left us.  The shadow rooms where Meiona and I used to train.  Maybe I should just go down there. . .” Lazarius said as he tapped the table softly in thought.

“Rattling cages and stirring up old ghosts from the past is sometimes not the best coarse of action to take Ser.” Kross softly responded as he made for the door. “Sometimes it is better to leave sealed doors shut. . .”

Lazarius nodded, his fingers curling around the quill once more and putting a surge of energy into it.  The feather jumped to life as he prepared to finish his work.

“Well if I do happen to wander into forbidden territory. . .and you don’t hear from me within the next few days. . .do send a search party?”

“Of course Ser.” Kross replied nodding.   Even he was readjusting to having his charge returned.  It had been a long enough time he was left to tend to simply the Bastille, and not its true master.

“Will there be anything else?” he added as his spectral body made its way toward the doorway.

“Yes. . . check on the status of our Stormwind businesses.  Assure Brox is handling things as they should be. . .”  Lazarius thought for a moment as he wondered what else was needed.

Kross would stand waiting and listening intently.

“I would like you to send a missive to Lady Ebonwe. . .Lightso. . .You know it has occurred to me that she has gone through so many aliases over the years I don’t even know what to call her anymore.” Lazarius smirked and shook his head sipping from his wine yet again. “Asphodel, please if you will.  Perhaps if she is still in Stormwind she would see the seal and know to come.  It would be nice to revisit with old faces”

“Of course Ser, I will personally deliver it to Lady Suncrest as I know she will deliver it to wherever Asphodel is living these days.” Kross was reminded of how fond he actually was of Casial.  They shared many a great evening together.

“And our acquisitions.  Keep a vigil on new faces floating through the city.  Plenty of them are under the radar.  A bit of new blood through these veins might do us the trick.”

Lazarius set the chalice down and thought for a moment more.

“And any new fences, or businesses popping up.  It would be useful to get a few more under the table dealings going.  Generate a bit of profit or at least a few footholds in the shifting market.”

Kross nodded, he’d always been on the look out.  His hints in the form of posted flyers around the city he would strategically aim to put in the paths of those who were perhaps not aware they were being selected to be examined.

“Thank you Kross.”  stated the Inquisitor as he returned to his pages and flipped them back open.

Kross said nothing but offered a silent nod to his Master.  He carried with him the days wares, useless items and anything else he had picked up to clear away the clutter that was surrounding the man.  While Lazarius was eager to return to his work and focus on finishing what he was doing.

.....people here are capable of even without my wisdom and guidance.  The loss of one; stirs the wrath of many.  And it would be no different for any other who may have been lost to our cause.  They achieved something that was neigh impossible; by combining their prowess and working toward the future that they controlled.  And in the end, they have only fueled my vitality toward achieving more to its maximum.

Now is the time for me to consider where I have stood for so long.  And what I wish to see this order become.  We are bound to the Old Gods by blood.  My body, our soul, this order.  But being bound does not mean that we need to remain servants to their will.  No, I refuse to let us fester while the entire world claims to take victory over a war that is causing their will to spread.

I have suffered far too long to remain dormant.  I have taken what I want from their collective, and I will continue to take.  But I AM THE MASTER now.  This place, these people, they are mine to protect and watch over, not the Old ones.  And protect everything we have built I most certainly will.

Lady Poeta Idrill De’Mour once told me something very useful that I have been running through my brain since the days of our very first council meeting.  Something I will never soon forget. . .

‘You need to be the person these people put their faith in Kash’ebahl, not some missing ancient deity, not a mystical force or an absolute power.  You need to stand as their beacon.  I will follow you into the ends of the earth and back again.  But I will not stand here and pretend that I will die for some festering sea monster who wishes to use me for its own gain.  We are The Nine. . . if we do not serve ourselves we will crumble and fall, then what better are we than that of the Twilight Hammer?’

Poeta was right.  The staff and students, soldiers and scholars, our military and magical defensive,  without asking or desiring, look toward our council as their beacon.  And it is time I step into the light as a sheppard, not just an Inquisitor, or a hand to a Mistress.  Verzatea and I rebuilt this entire structure from the ground up, raising it from the dead like the corpse it had become.  And we have all breathed new life into it.  It is time we stand on our own two feet.  It is time that I listen to those words.  We are The Nine. . .

“We are the Nine. . .”  he repeated and dismissed the quill to its inkwell. “Thank you De’Mour.”

CLICK-CLACK

Lazarius peered up from his paper on the large book he’d been writing.  His pursed lips prepared to blow a cool stream of air against the ink to aid it in drying.  His settled and glanced around the room listening to the sound.

It seemed to have come from everywhere all at once, it was a sound that was digging through his mind, or maybe it was something in the Bastille itself.  The elusive sound had caused him enough persistent curiosity at this point that he had risen out of his chair and slowly began to peer around the room.

With his venomous inky pools, Lazarius would peer around his chambers trying to put some sort of sense to whatever was doing it.  It was not the Bastille shifting; wasn’t someone trying to get in or something trying to get out.  Rash’jahla was always a curious one but there was no way a sixty foot titanaboa was slithering unnoticed into his bed chamber.  

It caused him to turn, toil and shift as he made his way over toward the bedding area.  His clothes and robes were all nearly placed inside the old Gilnean wardrobe that was by the dresser.  A massive table equipped with a mirror for gazing, several compacts worth of makeup and accessories.  Yes, Lazarius did from time to time wear foundation.  It was a needed tool in his ability to blend in with the world.  Nobody really enjoyed seeing him as he was; save for those who actually knew him.

CLICK-CLACK--CLICK-CLACK

There it was again.  He suddenly turned as he narrowed down onto it, it wasn’t vermin or a prankster.  It wasn’t Jursols raptor or some other mysterious creature.  It was the mirror.

His empty vile eyes gazed deeply into the massive lens, but what he saw was certainly not something he’d expected.  He wasn’t looking at a reflection of himself, no not at all.  He wasn’t even looking at a reflection of someone else either.  He was gazing deeply into the inner chambers of the former Grand Magus.

Peering into the room that once stole her away for nights on end.  The place where the two of them had come up with the idea for nearly every innovation the Bastille had been equipped with.  Where they plotted and planned their attack on Zalinath.  The place where he realized she had fully been lost.  The lair of the late Poeta De’Mour.

Lazarius canted his head to the side, long chestnut tresses cascaded along the side of his face impairing his vision as he swept them away.  He narrowed his gaze and focused on the room he was looking at.  He’d not been in there in well over a year, since before Maliscia had taken over.  Since he had sealed it away for good.

“Something has been calling to me to venture into these parts unknown.  What secrets lay within that deathly hollow. . .”  Lazarius whispered softly to himself.

“Remember, the Bastille exists to serve the desires of its denizens.  You would be wise to keep thoughts tightly locked within the confines of your psyche; lest you accidentally allow it to bestow upon you that which you seek, my Serpent. . .”

“...And that which we seek, may not always be that which we need. . . My Mistress.”  he repeated out loud to himself after recalling the lesson taught to him by Raelyndia.

A wise lesson to learn indeed.  Not everything you want is always what is best for you.  Lazarius had been a firm believer in that for quite some time.  But he had let himself be vulnerable, and perhaps this was the sentient towers way of leading him down the narrow path between victory or defeat.  

Regardless, the Inquisitor stole his final gaze at the hallowed vision in the mirror, galvanized his nerve and stormed out through the chamber doors leading into the hallway.  Storming out in order to get to the bottom of whatever clue was surely waiting in the wings.

To be Continued in. . . “The Damned Never Die: Haunted, Part 1″