#about two young women forced by politics to become weapons before they were old enough to understand what was happening

[brightchrysaor]

If I could draw:

Two women seated, one standing. On the left side of the picture is Edelgard von Hresvelg, dressed in her Houses war outfit. Dimitri's knife is belted at her waist, and in her left hand she holds the hilt of Aymr. The bone axe's blade rests against the ground below her seat. Her left hand is holding the right of Baru Cormorant, wearing blue silks and trousers. Baru has her sword and her chained purse, but is holding her mask in her left hand. The outside is steel, but the mask is turned so we primarily see the inner lining, which is red silk. Behind them stands Attolia Irene, with one hand on Edelgard's shoulder and the other on Baru's. Attolia is noticeably older than the other two, with crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and silver beginning to thread the dark hair at her temples. She is dressed in her red peplos and ruby coronet, and her earrings are golden bees.

Above Attolia's head, in classic propaganda poster text, are the words "SUPPORT WOMEN'S WRONGS"

[ickaimp]

[HTTYD] Break your heart, steal your crown

Sometimes ya just gotta write angst. Lotta people liked Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, my version of the ‘Hiccup runs away and becomes the “Dragon Master”, Astrid’s offered up as a Sacrifice years later’ tropes without Hiccup being a dick, and there were requests for sequels, which I didn’t do because this was all I had. Two years post Coming Down is the Hardest Thing, 4220 words, angst and some fluff.

"Berk is dying."

The words sat heavily in the air of the smithy, lingering like a spectre between Stoick and Gobber.

Stoick almost wished he could take the words back, but that wouldn't change the accuracy of his words. Berk was dying.

Gobber closed his eyes and sighed, giving him a weary nod of agreement. So he had seen it too. Or more likely, he had seen it in Gothi's last roll of the bones, before she had gone to bed and passed away in her sleep, leaving the fortune out for Gobber to read when he found her body this morning.

He hadn't actually told Stoick what the bones had said, giving him the same world-weary look he was currently wearing instead.

Even without the soothsayer's predictions, Stoick could see it. The twins had left years ago, declaring that the isle was too boring for their pranks, setting sail with only a chicken as their companion. It had seemed like a blessing at the time, less things exploding in their wake, leaving Berk a much quieter place than it had been.

Then came Spitelout's stupidity with Astrid, offering her to the savage Dragon Master. They'd gotten her back, only for her to disappear a week later. She'd left a note that this time was by her choice, but it'd been little comfort.

This left Berk's next generation without any women old enough to be wives. To become mothers to bear future generations. 

With the Jorgenson clan name soiled by Spitelout's actions, Snotlout was no longer able to be Stoick's heir. The other clans would never treaty with someone whose family had literally brought the Dragon Master down on their heads during a meeting of the chiefs. Except for maybe Dagur, and that was not a glowing recommendation, given the Berserker's... instability.

Which left Fishlegs as the only remaining of Berk's next generation to lead. The lad was smart, there was no doubt about it, and he would be fantastic as a second in command, the next Chief's Gobber, he was too quiet and soft to be a leader. The politics would eat him alive. And worse, Fishlegs was aware of this.

There were other children, Gustav and his ilk, but they were too young to start training as the next Chief of Berk. Stoick ran a hand down his beard, more grey than red from the stress and sorrow. He didn't have long enough to train one of them up.

And Berk's numbers were dwindling in other ways. Many had not been able to adapt to life without dragons to fight, finding a peaceful life did not sit well with their warrior blood. They'd left, being adopted into other clans. They'd just lost another family that way today. Stoick wished them no ill will, but if this continued, then they'd find their numbers too small to maintain the community.

Even Gobber was growing bored, not having enough work to keep the blacksmith busy. Without the dragons, there was no need for weapons, and the simple farming tools they had didn't need as much maintenance.  Stoick looked around the smithy, his eyes falling on the curtain leading to a small room that Gobber wouldn't allow anyone into, his own private shrine to his missing godson.

And then there was the loss of Hiccup, the first of Berk's children to leave. The Dragon Master's words, that Hiccup was happy and healthy where he was, was little comfort without being able to verify this. There was little Stoick wouldn't do in order to be able to see his boy again, for even just a moment. Sometimes he wondered if this wasn’t his fault. The path had seemed clear when they were constantly being raided by dragons. But without the raids, he was floundering. His people were looking to him for direction, and he had no experience with peace to know what to do. More and more they seemed to realise this, and left. Seven generations of vikings had lived on this isle, going all the way back to the first chieftain, his many times great-grandfather, and it was starting to look like he’d be Berk’s last chief.

"I wish I had some words of wisdom for ye, my friend." Gobber said softly. "I-"

Stoick jumped as something flew in through the window and landed on Gobber's face.

It was a green and brown Terrible Terror, who was making a high pitched growling sound as he crawled all over Gobber's head. "Don't move." Stoick rumbled, reaching for his sword.

"Ach." Gobber made a sound of annoyance, reaching up and grabbing the Terrible Terror by the scruff of its neck, pulling it off his head. "What're you-"

He trailed off, eyes drifting upwards and Stoick realised that it was the sound of a larger dragon's wings flapping. A Deadly Nadder, unless he missed his guess. Stoick gritted his teeth, feeling fire in his veins again, eager to have something to fight again, to take this rage and frustration out on.

"Oh no." Gobber said, a look of horror crossing his face as he glanced at Stoick. That was all the warning Stoick found himself being spun, his arms being bound behind his back with a pair of iron manacles, and he was flung through the curtain into Hiccup's old room. He landed against something softer than he expected, falling to the ground.

"GRUMP!" Gobber commanded, sticking his head through the curtain and pointing to Stoick. "Sit."

With a complaining groan, something large and heavy pressed down on Stoick. He grunted, trying to push himself up with his shoulders, but the weight was too much for him to get leverage.

"I didnae want you to find out like this." Gobber said, sounding apologetic, the Terrible Terror riding on his shoulder as if this was a common occurrence. "But if you value yer son's life at all, do not make a sound."

Stoick opened his mouth to bellow, only to find a rag shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. He growled, ire filling his veins as Gobber turned away, pulling the curtain shut. The torn fabric didn't go all the way to the ground, leaving Stoick with a clear view of the smithy.

When he got free, and got his hands on Gobber...

A blue and gold Deadly Nadder head stuck it's head into the doorway of the smithy, then carefully stepped in, taking care not to bump into anything in the small building. A crowned pale spectre rode on it's back, white and grey wisps obscuring the figure.

"Gobber!" The spectre greeted the smith with a cheerful voice. The spectre raised an arm, throwing what looked like a bridal veil over their crown, revealing inhuman features covered in glittering blue scales.

"Is good to see you, lassie." Gobber returned the greeting, his voice rolling with affection. The spectre laughed, reaching up for their head and pulling it off-

-Revealing Astrid's smiling face.

Stoick stopped fighting, going lax in surprise. It had been almost two years since he'd last seen Astrid, grim faced and bitter before she disappeared. She seemed to practically glow with happiness now, as she slid off the Deadly Nadder's back, giving a little hop before leaping into Gobber's outstretched arms, giving him a tight hug.

"Good to see you too." Astrid declared, holding him out at arm's length. Stoick could see that she was wearing armour now, covered in scales that matched the Nadder she rode. She wore a skirt, cape, and veil made out of ragged strips of a thin sheer white fabric that seemed to dance in the air when she moved.

The Undead Bride of the Demon was Astrid. Stoick recognised the Nadder now, it was the same one that she'd flown when the Dragon Master had kidnapped Stoick from the Althing.

"What brings ye here?" Gobber asked jovially, the merriment sounding slightly forced. "Not that I'm complaining, but was nae expecting t’see you for another week or two."

A stab of betrayal felt like a knife between his ribs.

"We have news." Astrid bounced and gave a little hip wiggle of delight. It was a gleeful carefree movement that Stoick didn't think he'd ever seen from the usually tacturn lass.

"Hey, wait. No fair." A shadow at the doorway protested, and Stoick found himself growling as he recognized the outline of the Dragon Master and his demonic Night Fury. The Dragon Master swung a leg over his so-called brother's neck, standing upright on his cloven foot and moving towards them. "I wanted to see Gobber's face when you tell."

"Not my fault that you're being slow, my sweet husband." Astrid grinned, giving another skip-hop to give a little kiss to the side of the Dragon Master's scaled helm and Stoick growled, wiggling as he trying to get free, but the weight on top of him didn’t budge.

"Wait a moment." Gobber breathed. "Astrid... Your belly... You cannot mean..." He trailed off, too choked up to speak.

Looking at her in silhouette, he could see what Gobber meant. Astrid's previously flat stomach was curved out in a very distinctive solid roundness.

Astrid was pregnant. And from the casual arm around her shoulders that the Dragon master had around her waist, the babe in her belly was that demon's.

Stoick would kill him. He'd kill him for touching Astrid. He'd rip the foul creature limb from limb, and then he'd get rid of that Night Fury who was sniffing around the room-

All thoughts faded from his mind as the Dragon Master took off his helmet, revealing his face for the first time, and Stoick's breath caught in his throat.

It couldn't be.

The messy brown hair, almost reddish in the candlelight. Green eyes. The fond crooked grin on his narrow face, having finally grown into his ears.

"Hiccup." Gobber said, his voice thick with tears. "Astrid. You've got a wee bairn on the way."

His son. That was his son standing there with an arm around Astrid, the two of them shining with happiness.

His son, the Dragon Master.

"I'm about five months along." Astrid beamed at Gobber, resting comfortably against Hiccup, the two fitting together like matching puzzle pieces.

"We were hoping you'd agree to be the Godfather." Hiccup said, and Stoick didn't know how he hadn't heard it before, in the Dragon Master's dry sarcasm. It was his son's voice, a little deeper than as a teenager, but the nasally tones could only be him. 

"Godfather-?" Gobber echoed in awe.

"It's not dependent on if you take up our offer to live with us." Astrid was quick to assure him. "But we'd like you to be. We wouldn't be having a kid if it wasn't for you."

"You got Astrid out of Berk, and you saved my life by taking me under your wing here." Hiccup said sincerely. "We're also open to them calling you 'Grandpa', if that's okay with you."

Grandpa.

Stoick was a Grandfather.

He felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes. He'd never thought he'd have that chance, not after his son went missing. And here his son was, was, healthy, happy, and with a wee one on the way.

"Och." Gobber shook his head. "I couldn't."

"You can." Astrid grinned, reaching out and taking Gobber's hand in hers, scales and claws curling delicately around calloused scarred skin. "We talked to Valka about it. She laughed and said she's fine with it. Someone else to share the responsibility of dirty diapers."

The tears spilled over his cheeks. Valka, his dear sweet Valka was alive as well.

He remembered now, the Dragon Master saying that he had his mother's eyes, and he did. Skies above, he did. Hiccup had always had Valka's clear eyes that seemed to penetrate and see more than anyone else.

"I mean, you did more to raise me than my own father did. It's only fair." Hiccup added without any trace of bitterness as he gestured around the smithy. "All of my fondest memories of Berk are here."

Stoick's breath caught, feeling as if a sword had just been thrust through his chest.

"Someone had to keep an eye on you." Gobber shook his head dismissively. "Otherwise some dragon would have flown away with your toothpick self."

The Night Fury, who had been circling around in the background, stuck it's muzzle under the curtain. The beast sniffed the air for a moment before poking its head all the way into the small room, it's acid green eyes narrowed into slits as it stared at him, a low warning rumble coming from its throat, lips curling back to show a giant maw full of razor sharp teeth.

Stoick stared back, uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he currently was. The creature could bite off his head in one bite, and there was no way for Stoick to protect himself.

"Oh nooooo. How terrible." Hiccup deadpanned in the background as Astrid laughed. "Carried away by draaagons."

The great weight on top of Stoick shifted and grunted, and he realised that it was a giant heavy dragon that was currently sitting on his back. The Night Fury crooned what sounded like a question to the creature pinning him down, getting a snore-like rumble in return.

The Night Fury glanced back down at Stoick, giving him a look that could only be described as 'scornful' before turning away with a smug expression and trotting back over to his son. Stoick watched as the beast gave an amused warbling at his son, casually headbutting Hiccup, sending him into Astrid, who took a half step to keep them all upright.

"Oh!" She gasped, then took Gobber's hand that she was still holding and pressing it against her belly.

"They're moving!" Gobber gasped. "Oh, they're a fighter, just like their parents."

Stoick's breath caught again. His grandchild. His grandchild was moving.

"The only thing that really settles them down is when the dragons sing to them." Astrid looked amused. "Even if the dragons are confused as to why I haven't laid an egg yet."

The Night Fury gave Stoick a pointed look, then nudged Astrid's belly with it's broad flat nose, giving a soft affection croon, as if to point out that the creature could touch the babe in Astrid’s belly, but Stoick could not. Stoick choked on the gag in his mouth, silently swearing vengeance.

"Which is part of the reason why we stopped by early." Astrid said gravely, and Stoick wondered how much more news he could take tonight. 

"Valka says I'm probably fine for flying up until I give birth." Astrid said, wrapping a protective arm around her belly. "But we decided that fighting is out until afterwards. So it may be awhile before I'm back in the area."

"Trapper tried to kick her in the stomach." Hiccup growled, and all three dragons in the room echoed the sound, even the Terrible Terror on Gobber's shoulder. The sound covered up Stoick's own noise of outrage at such an act. "Stormfly stopped them, but it gave us all a bit of a scare."

Astrid nodded, leaning against Hiccup, who looked a little anxious, rubbing his hand up and down the blue scales of her arm. "I can still do air support, but the pregnancy is making me exhausted lately. Which is probably only going to get worse." Astrid looked annoyed. "So we're all going to be staying with Valka at least until I give birth."

"It's not like the Hidden World really needs Toothless and I to guard it." Hiccup said with wiry humour. Stoick blinked, finding he had no more room for shock. Of course Hiccup found the home of the dragons. Of course he had. "But if you did decide to accept our offer to live with us, we didn't want you looking in the wrong place and thinking the worst."

"And Valka promises not to cook in your honour when you do show up." Astrid smirked. And Stoick nearly choked on muffled laughter, aware he was crying again. Valka had never been the best cook, but she tried. And it'd been worth every burnt and raw bite he'd choked down.

"Thank you." Gobber's voice was thick. "But I cannae leave just yet. Your Father needs..."

"I know." Hiccup hastened to assure. He stepped forward, wrapping a clawed hand around the back of Gobber's head, resting his forehead against the blacksmith's. "When you're ready, we'll be there. Even if you're never ready, we just want to make sure you know that there is a place for you."

"You just don't want to be the only one with experience making protestetics." Gobber grumbled, and Hiccup laughed, tapping his cloven foot on the ground, making a ringing sound.

Hiccup's prosthetic foot, Stoick realised, watching the spring inside the metal contraption flex. His son was missing a foot.

And Stoick had no idea when or how it happened.

"You caught me." Hiccup didn't sound angry about it as he released Gobber, more jovial than anything. "But it doesn't make it less true."

"I'll think about it." Gobber promised with the air of having said the same thing many times before, taking the Terrible Terror off his shoulder and transferring it to Hiccup's.

"And I'll teach you how to make Dragon Iron when you do." Hiccup said with a grin, his voice both teasing and cajoling.

Dragon Iron, which the Dragon Master was the only one who knew how to make. Because Hiccup had been a smith since he was six years old, put under Gobber's eye to keep him out of trouble.

"Stop trying to bribe me, you brat." Gobber cuffed him upside the back of his head with a grin. Both Hiccup and Astrid laughed, even if the Night Fury gave Gobber a glare. "Now g'wan. Get out of here before you're seen."

"Yeah, yeah." Astrid rolled her eyes and stood up on her toes to give Gobber a quick fond kiss on the cheek. "We'll see you later, one way or another." She informed him matter of factly before putting her helmet back on and climbing on top of her dragon, settling the veil around her shoulders.

"Take care of yourself." Hiccup clasped Gobber's hand, then pulled the larger smith in for a back thumping hug before releasing him. "And say ‘hi’ to Grump for me, wherever he's snoozing at."

"Will do." Gobber agreed blithely. "Stay safe, all of you."

The Night Fury let out a warble as if to say that it was his job to keep them all safe as Hiccup fastened the helmet back on his head, transforming back to the Dragon Master. The beast gave Stoick one last pointed look as Hiccup climbed in it's back, before turning and heading out of the smithy, both the dragons and their riders losing their relaxed easy going postures.

Astrid followed a few heartbeats later, following Hiccup's soft whistle. There was the sound of wingbeats, and then they were gone.

Leaving the smithy empty aside from Gobber and Stoick. It was with a sinking realisation that he realised he probably wouldn’t get another chance to ever see Hiccup again.

The Dragon Master was essentially Chieftain to the dragons, a role that clearly kept him busy and constantly travelling all over the archipelago and beyond. Stoick knew first hand how busy having a newborn kept one as well. It would be months, if not another year before Hiccup would free to visit Berk. And there would be no way for Stoick to know where or when.

Gobber gave a great big heaving sigh before turning back towards Stoick, his peg leg sounding loud against the ground. Gobber moved the curtain aside, and then knelt down, removing the gag from Stoick's mouth.

"I'm sorry y'had to find out this way." Gobber said softly, and the thing that hurt the most is that he could feel how sincerely his oldest friend meant it.

"How long?" Stoick asked, ignoring the way his voice broke.

Gobber gave a thoughtful hum, reaching up and petting the dragon on top of him. "Almost two years now." He finally said. "I recognized Hiccup's work on the blade the Dragon Master gave Astrid when he returned ya both here. Astrid had suspected as much, it just confirmed it for her."

He'd travelled with his son for an entire day, and Stoick hadn't a clue it was him.

Stoick, who had sworn that he'd be able to recognize his son anywhere, any time, in any place.

Horror went down his spine as he remembered the accusations he'd hurled at the Dragon Master after the dragon had crashed into their camp. Threatening to kill the Dragon Master in order to find his son.

His son, who had been right there. Who had told him while hidden behind a mask, that Hiccup was alive, healthy and happy where he was, far away from Berk.

Away from Stoick.

"About a month after Astrid left, she stopped by for a visit, ta let me know she was fine." Gobber continued, nudging the dragon off of Stoick. The giant creature grumbled as it slowly obeyed, leaving Stoick still shackled and on the ground. "The next visit, she brought Hiccup, and we cried together for nearly an hour."

Gobber paused, checking his pockets for his keys, then started to work on the manacles around Stoick's arms. Stoick had broken through stronger bonds before, but he didn't have the energy in him now.

"They stop by every every other month or so to check in on me, let me know how they're doing, or send a Terrible Terror with a letter." Gobber continued quietly. "Valka's been by once as well, weren't real comfortable here and left just as quick. Too many memories of blood shed."

The manacles released with a click, and Stoick slowly moved his arms, his shoulders protesting having been twisted in such a position. He carefully sat up, turning to face the monster that had been on his back.

And found himself looking at the least dangerous dragon he'd ever set eyes upon, for all its enormous size. It was large enough that it had probably only been it's head that had been resting on Stoick's back, and looked like it was already asleep with its eyes half open.

And it looked like a giant turd. Large, brown, and lumpy.

"This magnificent fellow is Grump." Gobber motioned to the sleepy dragon, with a fond expression. "They left him with me for back up, and so I have a way to meet up with them some time. He's been running the forge fires for me. Never realised how helpful having a dragon in the smithy could be before Hiccup mentioned it, even if the great lump sleeps most of the time."

Grump slowly turned an eye in Gobber's direction, thick club of a tail bouncing a few times as if realising that they were talking about him. He briefly wondered how many months the dragon had been sleeping here and no one had even suspected.

Stoick felt as if everything he had believed in had suddenly been turned upside down and shaken about. Dragons possibly weren't evil. His son was alive. He had a grandchild on the way. Hiccup was the Dragon Master.

"Is he happy?" Stoick asked, mindful of the tears still on his cheeks. "Hiccup?"

Gobber thought it over. "Aye." He finally said, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. "The lad weren't never made for being a Viking. Living amongst the dragons brings him not only comfort, but joy. Astrid and Valka too. Once you've earned a dragon's loyalty, there ain't much that can break it. And the three of them fit among them like they were born for it."

Stoick nodded. "And you?"

"Me?" Gobber looked surprised at the question.

"Will you be joining them?" He had the invitation and the dragon.

Gobber hesitated, looking at the slumbering dragon. "I'd like to." He finally admitted. "Some day. But not any time soon."

Because he was staying here, for Stoick's sake. He'd told Hiccup that clearly enough.

Gobber was his oldest and dearest friend, loyal to a fault, and Stoick couldn't blame him for keeping HIccup's secrets. Not when Stoick's reaction to meeting the Dragon Master hadn’t been nearly so generous, even as he realised that the Dragon Master was only trying to help in his own way.

"You should join them." Stoick said, rising to his feet. Gobber looked like he wanted to protest, and Stoick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "When you're ready."

Gobber closed his mouth and nodded. Stoick nodded back, then walked out of the smithy. The cold air hit the tear tracks on his cheeks, and he ignored it, trudging up the hill to his cold empty hut.

He had gotten his wish, to know that his son was not only alive, but thriving. Astrid too. And Valka as well, his wife living amongst dragons for nearly two decades now. He was so elated to know that they weren’t dead. 

Stoick wouldn't trade that knowledge for anything, not even with the understanding that the reason for their happiness was that they were living their lives far away from him.

-fin- (no, there are no plans for anything further in this au, but if it sparks something in you, feel free to play.)

[the-dubstep-strawberry]

Just Passing Through

The sun was rising on another day in the Commonwealth, but as far as Lucas Miller was concerned, that bright, lazy son-of-a-bitch had had more than its fair share of rest. His day had started hours before dawn, with the bellowing of his restless pack Brahmin better than any alarm clock; he'd rolled up his sleeping bag and doused the dying embers of the campfire, while the two guards who traveled with his caravan grumbled over cups of the steaming homemade tea they brewed from Bloodleaf flowers.

It was Sunday, two days since his caravan had set out from Bunker Hill with its usual itinerary. Their destination was Tenpines Bluff, one of the Minutemen settlements. It was small - just a handful of settlers and their shacks, and the field of Tatos they tended - but the armor trade was brisk and there were always orders coming in from nearby Sanctuary Hills. General de Havilland and her growing band of men and women had become his best customers, he reflected, as he finished tying his bootlace and rose to his feet.

The Brahmin let out a long, low moo of protest as they set off walking again.

“All right, Ol' Girl,” he told the cow, patting the side of the head nearest him. “Not much further now. We'll rest up soon and get you fed and watered.”

As he walked, his eyes settled on the road ahead, at a point just below the horizon. It always paid to keep your eyes on the road. The caravan routes were safer now than they had been for some years, with the new Minutemen patrols on the roads, but his father had always warned him to be vigilant when traveling. There were still dangers to be found out here if you weren't wary – Bloodbugs and Stingwings had taken down more than their fair share of Brahmin, and sometimes people. There were Raiders too - fewer than there used to be, but still the occasional brave or foolhardy group who took their chances. Gunners, for the most part, knew better than to disrupt the trade routes that they depended on for their own weapons, armor and chems, but some of the hotheaded ones preferred to do their negotiating down the barrel of a gun when disagreements arose. Yao Guai, Radscorpions and Deathclaws were the worst, he thought, shuddering. And Mirelurks. He hated Mirelurks.

One of the guards looked up at the sound of a distant noise. Lucas looked up too, and saw the shapes coming over the horizon; another pack Brahmin, heavily laden with boxes and bundles of goods which rattled and rustled and jingled as the two-headed cow trudged along, hooves thudding on ancient asphalt. No guards accompanied the beast of burden, but a person he recognized was walking alongside it; a weary-looking woman in a familiar blue jacket.

“Carla,” he greeted her. “How's business?”

“You again,” she said dryly. “Here to trade?”

He nodded.

“Mm-hmm. The usual. Tenpines Bluff and back again.”

“Need to pick something up? Road's pretty long from here.”

Lucas smiled. Trashcan Carla, as the locals called her, sold junk, but it was good junk – household goods, odds and ends, useful scrap scavenged from old ruins and sold to whoever had enough caps in their pocket. Sometimes she sold bulk goods, oil and steel, wood and screws, things that homesteaders and builders would put to good use as they staked their claim in the wastes, putting down foundations for farms and families. The General was a regular customer, she'd said once, as they'd stopped to chat in Bunker Hill between trips. Always building, and rebuilding, wherever she went.

“You keep traveling and I'm sure we'll do business by and by,” he replied politely.

“Maybe next time,” she said, amused. “All right then. Safe travels.”

“Safe travels to you too.”

They passed alongside each other, perfectly parallel; their Brahmin brushed past each other with long lowing noises, and the guards both nodded in Carla's direction; the small greeting designed to acknowledge each other's presence without getting caught up in conversation when you had other places to be, which she returned in kind.

Safe travels. That was the traditional farewell when your paths led you in different directions, no matter who your fellow travelers were. Farmers venturing out to bigger settlements to sell baskets of bulbous purple Mutfruits and bundles of Razorgrain; the provisioners who traveled between the smaller settlements, entrusted with the essential tasks of delivering goods and messages to their neighbors, smartly dressed in the Pre-War postal uniforms that the Minutemen issued to make their role look more “official”; the Minutemen patrols themselves, in worn jeans and yellow jackets and the militia hats popularized by Colonel Preston Garvey, the General's second-in-command; and occasionally a passing squad of Power-Armored soldiers from the Brotherhood of Steel, who might reply with a salute and a gruff response of “Citizen”, if they were feeling talkative that day.

The General wore Power Armor too, sometimes, when she wasn't wearing her famous tricorn hat and military overcoat. He'd been told that she was a member of the Brotherhood of Steel herself, in addition to leading her own army; he'd seen her out and about a few times with the former Paladin Danse, who had been forced out of the faction he'd once served over some internal disagreement, if the news reports on the radio were to be believed. For someone who'd lost everything, he decided, the man had looked surprisingly happy. He supposed he would be too, if he had a beautiful woman like the General following him wherever he went...

“Who's that behind us?” said one of the guards, by his side.

Lucas blinked, and turned around to look. Sure enough, there were two more Brahmin coming up behind them, and a few more shapes, human ones – two were caravan guards, much like his, with leather armor and suspicious scowls, and rifles slung on their backs. A third person was the merchant they guarded, a bearded man in a long coat and sturdy armored boots.

“Haven't seen him before,” he responded. “Not a local, by the looks of him. Must be from outside the Commonwealth.”

The second guard, the younger one, took the hunting rifle from his back in readiness, but the first one shook his head.

“Settle down, kid, they're just traders,” he told the other. “Wrong armor for Raiders and they're hauling too much gear. Raiders travel light round these parts, and they tend to hole up somewhere and stay put. Besides, they would've taken pot-shots at us by now. And Gunners make more of an entrance. Nothing to worry about.”

The second guard reluctantly lowered his rifle again.

“Yeah, I guess so. Who's that with them?”

There were two other people with the approaching caravan, Lucas noticed, as they got closer and the second Brahmin came into view. A young woman in a Vault suit and a leather jacket was trudging alongside the animal, complaining loudly about her aching feet; the other was a little boy, mop-haired and freckle-faced, sitting on the Brahmin's back and holding onto its neck as best he could. He was about four or five, Lucas supposed, and his clothes were slightly too big for him, although wasteland kids tended to wear clothes that didn't fit them too well, and slightly too big was always considered better than slightly too small. He and the woman had clearly come a long distance, perhaps even further than the others; they both looked tired and travel-worn, their clothes and boots thick with dust from the road.

“Hey,” called out the woman. “Hey, you! Wait up!”

Lucas and the guards stopped walking.

“Whoa there,” he told his own Brahmin, and Ol' Girl obediently came to a halt. “Let's see what they want.”

The other caravan drew closer, hurrying to catch them up, and then stopped right behind Ol' Girl, who looked unimpressed by the presence of the other two Brahmin; she mooed at one when it tried to get too close, and one of its guards shooed it away a few feet.

“Hey, friend,” Lucas greeted the newcomers. “Looks like you've come a long way. Where are you headed?”

“That's just it,” said the woman, cutting in before the other trader could speak. “We're… kind of lost. Could you give us some directions? You're from round here, right?”

Lucas nodded.

“Aye. Name's Lucas Miller. I sell armor for Old Man Stockton's outfit. Based out of Bunker Hill,” he told her. “And who might you be?”

The young woman frowned, and he was suddenly reminded of the way the General frowned; the purse of her lips, a slight wrinkling at the bridge of a shapely nose, and the furrowing of a pale brow that hadn't seen very much of the outdoors.

“Best you don't ask her that,” the trader beside her interjected. “Bit of a sore topic. She's given us three fake names already, and she didn't speak to us for a day and a half when we tried to get the real one out of her.”

“How about yours, then?” Lucas tried again.

“Name's Cartwright,” said the man, with more enthusiasm. “I sell junk, mostly, odds and ends, but there's a few bits of tech the Brotherhood boys might be interested in.”

“Don't think we've met before,” Lucas remarked. “What brings you all the way out here? I take it you're not from the Commonwealth.”

Cartwright laughed.

“You're right about that, my friend. We came up here from the Capital Wasteland.”

Lucas couldn't keep the surprise from his face.

“That's quite a way to travel for a pile of junk,” he said, in spite of himself. “Just those odds and ends bringing you out here?”

This time Cartwright shook his head.

“No, not really. Wouldn't have journeyed this far, but an old friend called in a favor. You know Daisy? From Goodneighbor?”

Lucas nodded. He knew her; the Pre-War Ghoul who ran Daisy's Discounts, although he rarely frequented Goodneighbor, where the locals were more interested in chems and ammunition than armor.

“Then you'll know how persuasive she can be,” said Cartwright, with a chuckle. “No saying no to a woman like that, is there? So I promised her we - ”

The woman standing beside him gave him a sharp look. If her eyes had narrowed a little more, her expression might have nailed him to the ground.

“They told us not to talk about why we're here,” she reminded him. Her voice was less pointed than her expression, but the hint of danger was unmistakable; there was a flash of steel in the violet-blue eyes. “Mercenaries out there, remember? Gunners, or whatever they call themselves. If that guy reports back to them and they find out why we're here, then we're in a whole world of trouble.”

Lucas shook his head at that. Gunners were, on the whole, bad for business. Angering them somehow seemed like an even worse commercial decision.

“I won't ask, then,” he said firmly. “I stay out of the affairs of others. No good comes of it.”

This time the woman gave him a friendlier look; still cool, but more appreciative.

“Smart man. Sorry. Nothing personal, but the instructions we had were pretty clear. All we want is a nod in the right direction.”

“I think I can help with that,” Lucas volunteered. “Where is it you're wanting to go?”

The woman paused to roll up her sleeve. There was a Pip-Boy on her wrist; a rare sight, thought Lucas, although the Vault suit now made more sense. There was a trading post at Vault 81, one of the few that still functioned and hadn't killed its Pre-War inhabitants in the process, and a few regulars came out to barter for goods they needed. Those Vault-dwellers tended not to travel too far from their home, although the General herself hadn't been able to get out of hers fast enough. Frozen, they'd said, before the war; what a world she'd emerged into, and how different it must have been from the one she'd left behind.

“Sanctuary,” she said, after checking an entry on the screen. “Or Sanctuary Hills. Heights. Something like that.”

“Sanctuary Hills?” Lucas suggested. “That the one you mean?”

The woman made an irritable noise, and waved her hand impatiently.

“Whatever. Close enough. But yeah, that's where we're going. We have a delivery we need to make.”

“Special delivery!” the little boy said proudly, from atop the Brahmin's back. “That's me!”

The woman smiled, perhaps a bit distantly, and ruffled the kid's hair.

“Yeah, that's you. Good job, kiddo, you've told everyone we met so far. So much for not talking to strangers. Your dad's not going to be pleased with me if we run into anyone who's not the friendly type.”

“You don't need to worry about that, miss,” Lucas' older guard assured her. “The Minutemen don't take kindly to folk who harass travelers on the road, and that goes double for kids. Mess with someone's child, steal them away or what have you, and the General will get to hear about it. You might be worried about mercenaries, but trust me, they're more worried about her.”

The young woman smirked.

“Hmm. And I thought Talon Company were scared of me back home. Sounds like this General is a woman to be reckoned with.”

“You'll reckon with her soon enough,” said Lucas, raising his eyebrows. “Sanctuary is her home and it's well-guarded. Turrets and watch towers and the like. You mind yourself when you visit and be sure to make a proper introduction. Strangers who won't give their names aren't the welcome kind.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine. If she wants to know who I am that badly, I'll be sure to tell her. Now can you tell us how to get there?”

“That I can,” Lucas told her. “Here, let me see that Pip-Boy of yours. I'll mark it on your map.”

The younger of his two guards muttered something to the other about Colonel Garvey, and the other let out a small chuckle. Lucas ignored them, and studied the screen, patterned in green and black. The topography seemed less familiar from above than it did at eye level, but he followed the road until he saw some landmarks he recognized.

“Concord's that way, and then the Red Rocket station. Follow the road up north and cross the Old North Bridge. It's dead ahead, you can't miss it.”

“Thanks,” said the woman, as he let go of her arm again. “Appreciate the help, Mr. Miller.”

“Not a problem. Any armor for you today?”

She shook her head.

“No, thanks. I think we're good.”

Lucas shook his head too. He'd been selling his wares to wastelanders for many years, and it was the bold and foolish ones who went away empty-handed. Still, there was something in the woman's expression that suggested that it would be more foolish still to try to grab her unawares, and there were subtle hints in the way she moved that suggested that her blue-and-yellow Vault jumpsuit had already been customized to her liking, and that she was more than adequately armed and armored.

“As you say. Well, safe travels then,” he concluded. “Good luck with whatever it is you're here to do. And give my regards to Daisy, when you see her.”

“Thanks, we will,” said Cartwright, with a friendly gesture. “Good to meet you, Lucas. And travel safe yourself. Perhaps we'll see each other again on the road.”

They parted ways, and the caravan moved on ahead of them, faster now that they were moving with more purpose. Lucas heard the little boy pipe up:

“Will we see Daddy soon?”

“Don't worry, Duncan, we're almost there,” she said casually. “They said he'll be there waiting for you. Been a while, too, hasn't it? I bet he can't wait to see you again…”

Their voices were already fading on the wind, dwindling in the distance as they followed the road and disappeared over the hill. Lucas shrugged, and gave his Brahmin a gentle nudge.

“Don't mind them, Ol' Girl. They're just passing through. Off we go now, there's a good girl.”

The Brahmin made some vaguely displeased noises and swished her tail a few times, but started to lumber off in the right direction again, unfazed by the goods on her back and the steeper incline as they followed their usual path.

As they climbed up the hill, Lucas caught another glimpse of the travelers from the Capital Wasteland; a long way to travel, he thought, and an even longer journey back if they hoped to avoid the greenish clouds that were already rumbling ominously over the Glowing Sea. It seemed a great deal of effort to go to, just to bring a small child all the way out here.

Still, he thought, as he turned his gaze toward the small cluster of shacks and caught sight of the bright blue Minutemen flag waving above Tenpines Bluff, they probably had their reasons.

[365days365movies]

March 15, 2021: Clash of the Titans (1981) (Part One)

This one’s personal…sort of.

Other than the fact that this is based on Greek mythology (previously well-established as one of my favorite subjects), this movie is, in a way, responsible for my existence. And that is because, according to legend, this is the film that my parents went to on their first date. And apparently, it went very well, because I came into being 10 years afterwards. So, yeah, this film is personal, like Dirty Dancing.

And also like Dirty Dancing, I HAVEN’T SEEN IT? I don’t know HOW I escaped seeing this movie. And that’s especially considering that I’ve seen the new one. And that movie was...not great.

Maybe not the worst film I’ve ever seen, but it’s definitely not a good movie. But OK, what’s this one about, exactly? Y’all ready for “The 365 Greek Mythology Hour” again? OK, then, here we go. SING IT LADIES

Clash of the Titans concerns the myth of Perseus, one of the greatest Greek heroes ever. Before Heracles, there was Perseus, son of Zeus. Yeah, Zeus, as he is wont to do, came down to Earth and had some good time with the princess of Argos, the beautiful Danaë. He came upon her while she was locked in a box by her dad, Acrisus, king of Argos.

Yeah, the Oracle at Delphi, ever the wisest, was visited by Acrisus one day, who wanted a son instead of a daughter. The Oracle spoke with Apollo (AKA huffed some of that SWEET SWEET ETHYLENE GAS), and told him that his daughter’s son would kill him. And so, he did the most logical thing: he locked her in a box. Yup. Dick. SPEAKING of dick, Zeus appeared to her in the open box as a golden shower. NOT THAT KIND OF GOLDEN SHOWER. I mean a literal shower of gold. Although...I wouldn’t put it past Zeus, of all gods. Dude was kinky.

So, Perseus is conceived, and Acrisus responds to this with his usual tact; he stuffs Danaë into a SMALLER box, and shoves it out to sea. She gives birth to a boy in the box, and the two eventually wash up on the shore of an island, where a fisherman finds them and takes them in. The boy is named Perseus.

Years go by, and Perseus’ mom is sought by his adoptive dad’s brother, and the king of the island, Polydectes. Polydectes is kind of a dick, and Perseus, now an adult man, doesn’t like him. The feeling’s mutual, and Polydectes has a plan. He holds a banquet, and forces all invited to bring a gift of horses. Perseus, being pretty poor, cannot bring this gift, but promises on his honor to bring whatever Polydectes wants of him, no matter what. And Polydectes asks for the head of Medusa.

Fuck.

Medusa’s one of your classic Greek monsters, a Gorgon. She’s one of Athena’s victims, formerly a vain temple priestess who was, well...raped by Poseidon, let’s be honest. However, since Athena’s priestesses were meant to be celibate, she was the one who ended up being punished. Fuckin’ YIKES. But OK, literal ancient gender politics aside, Athena cursed her with snakes for hair, and the ability to turn her victims into stone with a gaze into her eyes. Classic. And sure death for anyone who went after her.

So, Perseus is fucked. He’s gotta kill Medusa, and he doesn’t even have a way to get to her place. And that’s when he gets a favor from none other than Athena, goddess of wisdom and wartime strategy, as well as Perseus’ half-sister. I love Athena (other than the Medusa bullshit, obviously), and this is one of her most prominent roles in mythology. Well, that and the creation of spiders. That was also punishing a woman for her vanity, by the way. She has a type.

First, Perseus was told to find the Hesperides, nymphs of the dusk and dawn who would give him weapons. He got their location from the Greae, more colloquially known as the Gray Sisters. Weirdly enough, you may know them from Hercules, where they were combined with the Fates. They don’t have the future gimmick, but they do have that whole “sharing an eye” thing. Also, they share a tooth. Neat.

Anyway, Perseus takes their eye hostage, which makes them tell him where the Hesperides are. He goes to them, and they give him a bag to hold Meduga’s head. Then, the gods step in. Zeus decides to be a good dad for a change, and gives him an indestructible sword, and Hades’ Helmet of Invisibility. Hermes, another of Perseus’ half-brothers, gives him a pair of winged sandals to fly with. And Athena, technically Perseus’ patron, gives him a mirrored shield.

Perseus heads to the cave of Medusa, uses the shield, then goes up to her and cuts off her head. From her neck, for some goddamn reason, and golden sword pops out, alongside this guy.

Yeah, he’s not made out of clouds. He’s actually the, uh...he’s the result of Poseidon’s crime against Medusa. Fucked up, innit? Pegasus flies up to hang out with Bellerophon to kill the Chimera, and Perseus heads back to...actually, he goes to ANOTHER king who was a dick to him, and turns him into stone with Medusa’s head. Kings hate Perseus, seriously.

Perseus heads home after that, and goes through Ethiopia. There, he meets the King and Queen, Cepheus and Cassiopeia. Cassie’s gorgeous, but she tells Perseus that her daughter Andromeda is, like, WAY hotter, as beautiful as the sea goddesses. Which PISSES OFF POSEIDON (who is basically the villain of Perseus’ story, let’s be honest), and he send a sea monster named Cetus to destroy the kingdom, UNLESS they sacrifice Andromeda to it. And, because kings are assholes in this story, they do, chaining Andromeda to a rock. But, because Perseus believes that all women are queens, he goes to rescue her, and kills Cetus using all of his things. He weds Andromeda, and turns his romantic rival Phineus into stone using Medusa’s head.

Usually, that’s where retellings end, because there’s a recurring trend to Perseus’ story after that. A king is an asshole, Perseus whips out the head, asshole becomes statue of an asshole. However, there is that prophecy to contend with, about Perseus killing his grandfather. See, Acrisus basically retired by this point, and lived in the kingdom of Thessaly. But one day, he went to see some games, in which Perseus was competing in the discus. Well, wouldn’t you know it, Perseus isn’t great at it, and loses control of the discus, which hits Acrisus, killing him instantly.

Utimate frisbee, man. It’s dangerous.

There’s another version where Perseus uses Medusa’s head to turn his dad into stone, surprise surfuckingprise there. But yeah, after that the story varies. Sometimes he becomes a king, sometimes he doesn’t. He basically always marries Andromeda and has kids with her. Sometimes he founds a city of his own, sometime he doesn’t. And in one ending, where he’s lived to be an old king, he fulfills his ultimate destiny and turns Medusa’s head on himself. Geez.

So, yeah, there you go. That’s the story of Perseus. Let’s, uh...let’s see what the movie does, huh? This is another Ray Harryhausen joint, so I’m...tentatively excited for it. We’ll see how badly they mess up the myth, and whether or not it works despite that. So, ENOUGH of me lecturing you guys, huh?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

We begin approximately where most iterations do: King Acrisius (Donald Houston) has just cast his daughter Danae (Vida Taylor) and grandson Perseus into the ocean, containing them within a wooden chest in order to “forgive his daughter’s crimes”. Yeah, sure, OK, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

This also pisses off Zeus (Laurence Mother Fucking Olivier), who consorts with the rest of the Olympians on what to do to Acrisus. Said Olympians include Hera (Claire Bloom), goddess of marriage and women; Thetis (Maggie Mother Fucking Smith), goddess of the sea and leader of the Nereids; Athena (Susan Fleetwood), goddess of wisdom and strategic victory; Aphrodite (Ursula Andress), goddess of love; and Poseidon (Jack Gwillim), god of the sea.

Hera tries to defend Acrisus, noting his prior years of devotion to Zeus and the other gods. But Zeus ain’t HAVING that shit, and tells Poseidon to destroy the city of Argos in revenge. This is to be done by...releasing the last of the Titans? Which is apparently the Kraken. I mean...no, a thousand times no, but whatever.

This little tantrum is Zeus’ way of showing his love towards Danae, whose child Perseus is his. This is helpfully pointed out by Thetis, who seems...a little spiteful, as much as Hera is about Perseus. Seems like she’s stoking some fires. Hmm. She is Queen of the Nerieds, so she may play a larger role later on.

Beneath the sea, Poseidon readies himself to set loose the Kraken and destroy Argos, at Zeus’ command. Zeus, meanwhile, kills Acrisus by using a clay voodoo doll of sorts to strike him down. And that’s when Poseidon lets loose the Kraken for the first time. And the Kraken...

Guys, the Kraken looks...actually, I’ll spoil his appearance later on. The Kraken destroys the city, and Zeus kills Acrisius. So much for the goddamn prophecy that explains why Acrisius did what he did, but fuck me, I guess. Danae and Perseus, meanwhile, have safely arrived on the shores of the island of Seriphus, at Zeus’ insistence. There, Perseus grows from child into a fine young man, with Zeus always watching over him...and with Thetis and company always watching over Zeus. Interesting.

The adult Perseus (Harry Hamlin) lives happily on the island, much to Perseus’ delight. Thetis, on the other hand, asks about her mortal son, a young man named Calibos (Neil McCarthy). Apparently, Calibos is a bit of a monster, and while he’d been set to wed the princess Andromeda, he’s also managed to kil all living things on the island that he’s been given, save for a single winged horse named Pegasus. Hence...he is to be punished.

Calibos, by the way? Entirely original creation of the film, and there’s nobody like him in Greek mythology. Anyway, Thetis is crushed by this, and decides to exact revenge of both Perseus and her son’s would-be fiancee, Andromeda. She pledges to open up Perseus’ eyes to grim reality, and does so by placing him in the kingdom of Joppa, where Calibos was originally set to rule alongside Andromeda.

Here, in an amphitheatre, he encounters a mysterious masked and robed figure, who quickly reveals themselves to be Ammon (Burgess Meredith), a poet and playwright. Apparently, Ammon wears his disguise to scare off trespassers. He tells Perseus that all of Joppa is in a tizzy about a curse of some kind, and that the story of the fallen kingdom of Argos is a famous legend.

Ammon tells Perseus to go back home to Seriphus, but Perseus tells Ammon that he’s promised to restore his mother’s old kingdom, and decides that Joppa would be a good start. Despite his drive, though, Zeus is pissed off at Thetis for plopping Perseus down unprepared. He tells the other goddesses to give him gifts to help him claim the kingdom of Joppa as his own. This includes a helmet from Athena, a sword from Aphrodite, and a shield from Hera. I mean...OK, that’s super goddamn weird, but OK.

After Zeus leaves, the goddesses rightfully complain about Zeus’ constant womanizing, but note that he probably doesn’t remember Danae at this point, is is most likely acting out of stubborn pride for his “handsome son”. Their words, not mine.

In Joppa, Perseus finds the gifts by the statues of their grantors. The sword from Aphrodite is adamantine, like the original myth, and slices through marble without a blemish. The shield from Hera...talks. Yeah. The shield bears the visage of Zeus, who tells him that the weapons are gifts from the gods, and that the helmet from Athena turns the wearer invisible. I mean, fuck Hades, I guess, but OK. Technically Athena did give the helmet to Perseus, so OK.

Armed with his new gear, an invisible Perseus immediately takes off to see Joppa, sans his sword. We only see his footsteps in the sand as he leaves, which is legitimately a VERY neat effect, and I’m not sure how they did it, but it’s neat as hell. Off to Joppa, a vaguely Phoenician/Persian kingdom, despite the fact that the original Joppa, or Jaffa, is a port city in Israel.

There, he meets a soldier, Thallo (Tim Pigott-Smith), who tells him of the situation. Since Calibos fell to Zeus’ wrath, Andromeda rejected him, allowing any suitor to try for her hand, whether they be royal or not. To do so, they must answer a riddle. If they fail to answer, the would-be suitor is burned to death. This is lorded over by Queen Cassiopeia (Sian Phillips), while Andromeda (Judi Bowker) lives in the tower of the palace.

Which is why Perseus IMEDIATELY uses the helmet to go into her room that night! CLASSY, PERSEUS. There, he sees...a giant vulture bring a cage to Andromeda’s balcony. No idea where in the fuck this is going, but that’s a damn good looking vulture. God, I love Harryhausen.

Anyway, the vulture is here for Andromeda’s soul, which leaves her body and goes to sit in the cage. The vulture takes off with it, al as the invisible Perseus watches on. He takes this opportunity to touch Andromeda’s face in her sleep (stop, Perseus, for the love of Zeus), then decides that winning Andromeda is his destiny. And so, his simpin’ journey begins.

The next day, Perseus asks Ammon how they can follow the vulture, who has apparently headed to the marshes to the “marsh lord”. To follow the vulture, Ammon suggests that they find and capture the last of the winged horses, known as Pegasus. And we’ve officially lost the track of Greek mythology at this point. Shit.

Well, with Ammon’s help, Perseus captures Pegasus and rides him through the skies. Meanwhile, in Corinth, some dude named Bellerophon is just having a stroke, I guess, because he’s totally fucked now. Whatever. The next day, the vulture comes back to Andromeda’s place and takes her soul to the marsh. But this time, Perseus and Pegasus follow them.

In the marsh, the marsh-lord and riddle-maker is revealed as Calibos, who is still in love with the beautiful Andromeda. As she cannot love him, he provides to her another riddle to give her would-be suitors. In tears, she memorizes the riddle and its answer, Calibos touches her uncomfortably, even as Andromeda asks him to lift his curse and show pity. But he refuses, in pain from his love. Jesus, this movie should be called Clash of the Simps, goddamn.

Perseus was watching the whole thing, though, which Calibos immediately figures out when he sees Perseus’ footsteps in the dirt. As Perseus goes through the swamp looking for Pegasus, he’s found and attacked by Calibos. Calibos, by the way, is a guy in pretty solid makeup in close-up shots, and a Harryhausen model in far-away shots.

The two struggle, the helmet is lost in the swamp, and Perseus draws his sword. But we suddenly cut away to see the daily ritual of the presentation for Andromeda’s would-be suitors. Perseus steps in, having survived the attack from last night, and offers his hand to Andromeda, who recognizes Perseus from a dream. She gives the riddle, which is ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT. Here, I’ll prove it.

In my mind’s eye, I see three circles joined in priceless harmony. Two, full as the moon; one, hollow as a crown. Two from the sea, five fathoms down. One from the Earth, deep under the ground. What is it?

Any guesses? Anybody?

NO MATTER WHAT YOU FAIL. Because the answer is Calibos’ ring! HOW IN THE SHIT WOULD ANYBODY HAVE GUESSED THAT? It’s a golden ring with two pearls on it! WHO KNOWS THAT SHIT? I call complete bullshit, and the only reason that Perseus knows it is because he spied on this last night! Also, because he cut off Calibos’ hand, and made him renounce his curse, which is...never really specified, now that I think about it.

With that, Perseus has both Andromeda’s and Calibos’ hands! HA! Calibos is not as amused, as he preys to his other Thetis, at a temple of hers. He demands that Thetis take revenge on those whom Perseus loves, specifically Andromeda and the city of Joppa itself. He demands justice, but Thetis identifies this correctly as revenge. All the while, Perseus declares his love for Andromeda, and they seal their union with a kiss and ritual.

During this ritual, in which Andromeda and Perseus are essentially married, Queen Cassiopeia, LIKE A DUMBASS, says that Andromeda is more beautiful than the goddess Thetis herself. Yeah. BAD FUCKING MOVE, especially because she said that IN FRONT OF THETIS’ FUCKING SANCTUARY. At least that dumbass move was kept from the original story.

Well, Thetis tells Cassie that she can only atone for her stupidity in one way: sacrifice your daughter to the Kraken in 30 days. Later on, Perseus speaks with Ammon to figure out how they can defeat the Kraken. Ammon suggests speaking with the “Stygian Witches”, who I’m assuming are our Grey Sisters for the night. However, according to Thallo, they have a taste for human flesh. Still, Perseus is going, as are Ammon, Thallo, and Andromeda. But not Pegasus.

Well...shit, man. That changes a few things, huh? But that’ll be addressed...IN PART TWO! See you there!

[imfallingdown-icantwakeup]

Fishmonger’s Daughter

Jaskier had a life that he walked away from to become a Bard. He has travelled across the Continent both by himself and with his Companion, Geralt of Rivia. What happens when they happen upon a familiar town and find a familiar face? Slow burn Jaskier/OC Reader-insert type

Chapter one: Mad world

Word count: 3515

“One stop. That’s all I’m asking for.” Jaskier pleads from behind his companion, legs creaking from under him with every step. “One measly stop, in a forgettable town, for one night that you won’t remember five years from now. But I will. I will write the most beautiful sonnet of this night. The moon, the stars- “Jaskier was no fool. He knew what he was signing up for by tagging along with the Witcher on his travels. He just remembers the White Wolf taking more stops to bathe. He couldn’t stand the onion smell that was reeling from them both any longer.

               “Will it get you to shut the fuck up?” Geralt grumbles from atop Roach, not even bothering to look at the bard. He knew Jaskier meant well. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t annoyed with the constant talking, singing and complaints. Even if it was better than travelling in silence.

               “Yes!” Jaskier exclaims, excited that Geralt finally understood that he had needs too as he extends his arms to enunciate his point. Finally. The road was long, however he walked quietly for the remainder of their journey. He didn’t want Geralt to suddenly change his mind and take his bath from him. The Witcher was pleasantly stunned and tucked that sacred piece of information away for later. A promise of bathing will make him quiet. Must be almost as good as sex after being stuck with him for so long, at this point.

They came to a familiar town that sat at the edge of a forest, and memories flooded Jaskier as he led the way to the inn, taking a short pit stop a resident tavern, for a ‘local specialty’ Jaskier insisted. Geralt followed wordlessly, asking no questions as to how Jaskier seemed to almost prance down the streets humming an older song, one that the Witcher hadn’t heard from him before. Peculiar. Seeing as Jaskier always had Geralt listen to him sing his new songs before he ‘serenaded’ the public.

Fucking always.

               Geralt tied Roach outside the inn, Bee and Barb. Unique enough. Jaskier had disappeared inside with a smile too wide on his face and that told Geralt nothing good. Only bad things could come from this if it made Jaskier so happy.

 ____________________________________________________________________________________

                 My mother used to tell me that my touch was ‘as light as a feather’s’. That I drifted through life as a pocket of air and that every move I made went unnoticed by those around me. My feet never touched the ground, my head in the clouds, a slight breeze being the only sign that I was even present. I was rarely acknowledged, my presence always overlooked by those around me.

It was Jaskier that told me it was only when I started to leave that people noticed me. It was when they clutched their chest, wondering why it was so much harder for them to breathe. He said that I had always given him the ‘breath of adventure’.

Adventure. His first true love. No matter how much I wanted that love to be me. It had been years since I’ve seen the man, but there was hardly a day that I hadn’t thought of him. His sweet goodbye under the tree, our tree we used to climb as young children, was the one memory I clung to most.

I remember the way he hugged me that day. The way his arms wrapped around me, and that it almost hurt, but in a good way- as if he wanted me to sink into him. It’s as if he wanted me to carve a hole into his chest and live there to travel the Continent with him, to keep inside of his body. I remember not breathing, I remember not needing to because for once someone else was doing it or me. For once, someone else was the warm breeze filling my chest with their air, the air of adventure. The whole memory brings nothing but joy to me now, but all I can think of is how much I read too much into things. How much I inference and want him to want me.

Thank goodness my mother wasn’t here to see how far I’d fallen since he had left our small town and subsequently, my life in its entirety. Five years was a long time for him to be gone. He had traveled and made a new life for himself and travelled the Continent. Fighting beasts, befriending Witchers and bedding women. All while I strayed five miles from your hometown to a slightly smaller village to become a local barmaid, waiting hand-and-foot on drunken patrons.

The day had been started out dull and rainy. It turned long and boring inside of the old inn, where everyone convened to seek refuge from the incessant raindrops. Nothing to do except bring beer and food to those who ordered. No new travelers to converse with. The Bee and Barb was popular in   this province for its up-and-coming bards, new faces every week trying to earn a name for themselves like their predecessors before them. After a while, all their voices seemed to blend in, the songs sounding the same. The melodies all had the same rhythm, the cadence of the words was too similar.

               Nothing like Jaskier’s songs.

               I push the thought to the back of my mind as I weave through the patrons, the tray high above my head as I push past drunken men and women to get to the table on the other side of the room. Mid-day to evening was always the busiest, and I couldn’t imagine why. I mean, sure, this is the cleanest establishment in town but that shouldn’t mean that these people should make my job impossible by being in the way all the time. I clear my tray with a smile, grabbing coins and slinging them into my pocket with a polite smile that was plastered on my face.

               A young lady was singing with her lute in front of a crowd as I made my way back to the bar and I swore that I saw a familiar shade of brown hair make its way to my counter. Strange. I hurry back seeing two customers waiting for me, one broad the other… Not so much. The broad one was dressed in black leather, weapons strapped along his back. Didn’t look like he needed them with his size. The other man was a tad shorter, less broad in build. His clothes were of a more vibrant color you noticed as he heaved himself onto a stool, turning his whole body sideways so his elbow rested on the bar, while also giving you a glimpse of his profile.

               I had to take a double look as I see a glimpse of him. There was no way. After all this time, Jaskier just happens to walk in here? Your Jaskier with his Witcher in tow, off to another hunt? It had been years since you had seen him. Would he recognize you as easily as you did him? You were best friends, once upon a time.

If only fairy tales ever did exist.

I feel like my feet are rooted to the spot while something pulls me forward, an invisible force. Destiny, maybe? Preposterous. It had been at least five years since you’ve seen the man. Since he went to make a name for himself and make a name he did.

               I slowly drudge over to the counter, head down as I walk behind, sliding the tray across to Theodora as I approach the bard and his companion, a mixture of anticipation and skepticism swirling it’s way though my veins at the sight of him. He hasn’t changed much. His eyes still a baby blue, lips that look to good to kiss, hair, albeit greasy, I would still love to run my fingers through. Although friends don’t want to run their hands through friend’s hair, do they?

               “Welcome. What may I serve you gentlemen tonight?” I ask, tone a bit rushed as I stare at the man with pale hair, my polite smile still stretched over my face. His eyes are a gold amber color as he stares right back, handsome face set in a soft look of reverence as he mulls over the words he’s about to say. This must be Geralt of Rivia. Just as he is about to speak, the Bard interrupts him, leaning between the two of us on the bar so I would be forced to look at him.

               “Does Vilod still make his homemade mead with the juniper berries mixed in?” Jaskier asks in a rush. My eyes turn down to him and a mischievous smile sparks on his face as our eyes meet. I nod at him meekly, not trusting my voice. Should’ve guessed that’s what he would ask for after all these years. Damn mead instead of where I am. “I know you.” He says, raising a finger whilst shaking it at me. I shake my head as my smile grows from nerves. Maybe I was important enough for him to remember, better than all those silly adventures he thought the world of. I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear as I glance down, clearing my throat as I tense under his gaze.

               “I get that a lot. But, no, I don’t thin- “I protest before I look up and see a light flash in his eyes. If I blinked, I swear I would have missed not only the look in his eyes, but his action. He jumps from his seat in a commotion, stool colliding to the floor with a loud ‘thunk’ from the force of his upheaval as he claps his hands together once before turning towards his companion, either ignoring or not noticing the annoyed glances from my patron around him and Geralt.

               “Thank you, Geralt. Really. Thank you,” He gestures to me then back to Geralt in a sort of quick introduction before continuing, “because it is you, Elowyn.” His voice takes on a new level of excitement as his baby blues lock eyes with mine and I giggle at him slightly, looking down before nodding at him. He obviously hasn’t learned of his affect on those around him yet. Good. That was one of my favorite things about him.

               “Yes, Jaskier. It is. You’ve been a long way from home.” I comment as I turn my back to get his mead, filling two mugs three-quarters of the way before I turn to get a couple of handfuls of berries from behind the counter. He says nothing in response as I get their drinks ready, possibly stunned to silence. I crush the berries before adding them to the top, making sure to add some honey in as well. I place the two glasses in front of the men, catching eyes with Jaskier before I see someone waving me over from behind him as I sigh heavily. For one night, one forsaken night, can’t I have just one decent conversation? If only, except that my night has just begun. “See you later, Jas.” I walk away, towards the drunken men and woman of the Bee and Barb. My only place in life, it seems.

               How dull and dreadful.

                 As he looked over to her, it suddenly stuck him how beautiful she was. Her hair was hanging loosely around her in waves, always in their perfect waves, reminding him of her laughter which was rich and dark like dwindling sunlight over the hills. He had the oddest impulse to run his fingers through the strands tenderly. Were they as soft as they looked? Would his fingers glide through easily or would they get caught on a knot, pulling her head back revealing her long pale neck? Would she allow him to do such an intimate act? He could picture her now. Head thrown back, eyes closed, full lips slightly parted moaning his name.

               He didn’t recognize her at first. Her head had been down, but the moment her eyes had connected with Geralt’s, he knew. In that moment Jaskier knew instantaneously who that woman was, whilst being enamored all he could do was keep asking himself ‘why’?

               Why did he ever leave?

               He needs to get closer to her, to see her better. Does she still have a scar under her chin from when she fell when she was nine? On her cheek, was there still a freckle in the shape of a heart by her temple? He leans on the counter, sitting in her path to the more handsome man. He didn’t know if he could bear her pining for the stoic man, it would kill him.

               “Does Vilod still make his homemade mead with the juniper berries mixed in?” HE can’t help but ask. This is the reason they came here in the first place, may as well humor Geralt. Show him what true mead tastes like.

“I know you.” His voice is filled with mirth as it floats through Geralt, making him stop in his tracks. The young woman shook her head as she blushed, and Geralt had a felling he knew their situation, if all too well. The smiles, the looks. Geralt looked between the bard and barmaid as she fetched their alcohol, ignoring Jaskier’s antics.

They look at each other as if they were almost lovers, like they should have kissed and made love and laughed in bed together, but they chose to stay friends instead. They looked at each other with what ifs and could haves, and all he can see in Jaskier’s eyes is regret. He can hear her heart pound in her chest, her breath quicken as she walks back. Was she feeling the same? Maybe both hearts were filled with regret. None of this was his business though, nor would he make it.

As she walked away from the pair of men, Jaskier couldn’t help his eyes from trailing after his newfound muse. Geralt, on the other hand, swiftly brought his tankard towards his lips, taking a hearty chug of the sweet mead. The Witcher would never admit it out loud, but maybe Jaskier was onto something about this homemade alcohol.

“She has to come with us.” The brunette blurts out, gaze never breaking from his long-lost friend. Geralt simply rolls his eyes with a soft ‘hum’, finishing the sweet drink before taking Jaskier’s from in front of him. “Her mother was a healer so she may prove useful in a pinch.” He continues, eyes finally moving to his companion. Geralt simply nods once at the bard, and he jumps in excitement, taking his tankard from Geralt. He finishes the drink and wipes his face before setting out to find this Elowyn to sweep her off her feet, although Geralt doubted she would simply drop her life and run away with a bard and a Witcher at the drop of a hat.

Spheres, how he wished he was right.

 It took little convincing from the bard to sway the sweet, sweet maiden to join their- well, Geralt’s voyage. Jaskier was just the public relations expert, swaying the outlook of the mutant to his fellow human beings. It wasn’t like Geralt wasn’t an unreasonable man. Grumpy, yes, but never unreasonable.

Her lips curled into a slight smile that radiated warmth through his whole being as her bright eyes stayed glued to his for a fleeting moment and damn did he love it. He was addicted already, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

They sat under a large shade tree while it rained softly around them. The soft ‘pitter-patter’ of the rain surrounding them seemed to set the rhythm for Elowyn’s heart whenever her eyes caught his, and all she kept asking herself was ‘why’?

Why did she ever let him leave?

               Before him sat a woman, a damn gorgeous one at that, and he was stunned that she was letting him unravel her mystery, becoming a part of her present. How crazy is the thought, how could he have never noticed that her eyes were just the right shade of honey brown, a lightness around the iris while the darkness clung to the edges or how her laughter reminded him of summertime. They had been friends for so long, and yet he’d never really looked at her. Jaskier found himself staring, desperate to learn more.

               “What are you looking at?” She questioned, finally pulling him from his daze. Gods, how embarrassing. Jaskier was at a loss of words. A bard, speechless. Why did he suddenly become nervous? They’d been friends for years, since before they could walk. Friends weren’t supposed to make you nervous, or make your hands sweat. Was that butterflies in his stomach, or was it the berries he drank earlier not settling on his stomach after not having them for so long?

               “Um… You-You have a bug in your hair.” He stuttered. He went to reach his hand out, maybe run a finger through her hair but thought better of it. Friends don’t touch other friend’s hair, did they? He suddenly didn’t have any answers, any guidelines for the dangerous territory he was heading in. She shook her head, splaying her dark red hair around her and the smell of roses and honey hits his nose sharply, making his heart stutter in his chest. It was as if she were stealing the very air from his lungs as she looks back up at him with her doe-like eyes, her skin almost glowing under the dark tresses of her hair.

               “Is it gone now?” Elowyn asked so casually, as if suddenly everything hadn’t changed. As if her smile didn’t hold the warmth of the sun. That would make for a good line in a song.

               “Yes,” He hummed, aware of how his voice sounded, of how his teeth were crooked, of how completely lovely she was. “Yes, it’s all good now.” Did he dare tell her that she was beautiful? No, that could ruin everything. He decided that maybe this feeling would pass. That maybe when they rode out tomorrow, she would go back to being his best friend, and not a girl that somehow took up the space in his chest and lungs, making it hard for him to breathe. Maybe this epiphany was only temporary, and they would eventually fall back into their rhythm. But did he really want that?

               “You know, I’m really glad that we found one another again.” She says, smiling sweetly at him from under the shade of their shade tree. Gods, what wouldn’t he do to see that every day? He laughed gently and noticed that she had turned her body to face him, sitting so that their knees were touching. How could she be doing all this? All she did was sit there, and she was taking his breath away. It had to be some sort of magic, some sort of spell she cast on him. The way her eyes twinkled as she looked at him, the gentle smile on her face.

Her dark hair framed her face well, her nose small and button-like, cheekbones high and lips full. What he wouldn’t do to feel them pressed against his. Someone should make her into a sculpture, he should mold her features in warm clay to commemorate her beauty forever, longer than any ballad could. Jaskier wasn’t sure if there were any words in any language that could capture the raw beauty she held in that moment, eyes twinkling in the dark sunset with a smile just for him. If only his hands were dexterous enough to catch the fine details of her face, to catch the innocence and beauty of Elowyn. It took him a moment to remember that she spoke to him as he smiled back, snaking a hand out to pat her knee.

               “Me too. We should head to the tavern. Find Geralt before he leaves us.” Jaskier informs her with a soft smile. He stands and extends a hand to help her, and almost sighs in pleasure when their hands collide as he squeezes her hand slightly as he tugs her up standing next to him. Who knew that even holding hands could feel so good? Her hand was so warm, and so damn soft. As quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. He had to release her once she was standing upright, her head falling just at his chin.

               “He wouldn’t really leave us, would he?” Ely asks as she peers through her long lashes up at him. Fuck, he just wants to kiss her. He laughs lightly as he turns on his heel and starts walking away towards the tavern, hands resting in his trousers as he begins whistling a new tune, a new song coming to life in his mind. A sweet melody wafting though the air between them as she follows with giggling, taking his answer as a yes.

               Maybe this adventure wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[prongsisabadger]

Songs for the Heartbroken: That’s What You Get

AO3

FF.net

Prologue.

What is the scariest thing in the world? If people say whatever first comes to mind, we would probably end up with answers like heights, spiders, or maybe even death; but there are definitively things in this world that are scarier than that. The ones I particularly find most terrifying, are people. Of course there are different types of people that are terrifying in their own particular way, but here, I'll only write about one of them.

People who love. This might sound a little stupid to some but bare with me and allow me to explain. The word 'love' has now lost its essence from the amount of times we've heard it said with astonishing lack of sentiment. But I am not referring to an eleven-year-old's version of love when they first confess to their crush; nor am I speaking about those words guiltily spat between ground teeth or stuttered in the spur of a moment for lack of a better thing to say. I don't mean those many whispered 'I love you's of someone who just cheated on their significant other.

No, what I fear is much more profound, raw, animalistic even. What I feat is a person who disregards their own life in order to whatever or whomever they love. Those people have a purpose and will do anything to see it through. Just like a parent protecting their child, a soldier fighting for a cause they believe in or anything that can inspire such passion in a person's heart that the consequences of their actions go beyond one's imagination. People with a mission and the will to lay down their lives to accomplish it; those are the people who scare me the most. It's men and women with this kind of drive and determination who bring down nations, who are able to destroy anything in their path; capable of building relationships, entire lives and tear through them with savage violence and not an ounce of hesitation.

But the most frightening part of it is not what they are capable of, it's the fact that you never know who they are until its too late. You might have known that person your entire life and never had contemplated the possibility. Anyone can be one of these people, one of those who love too much; and you'll never know until it's too late, not even if that person is you.

That is the moment these people will stun you the most, when you find that you yourself are one of them, unsuspicious even to your own consciousness, until you realize that you would be willing to do the unthinkable to protect what you love. When you realize, that after all, those things that once seemed so terrible are not anymore, and that if it means safety, then you don't mind doing them anymore. Not even if it means you will lose your humanity in the process.

I have only seen such drive in someone other than my brother and me, and it took me quite some time to realize it too. I knew Shisui and I were special in some way other kids in the clan were not, that was at least until I met Itachi. The heir to the Uchiha leadership seemed like nothing special when we had first been introduced, he was serious, pensive even beyond what would be considered normal for a four year old. Even I with the extensive training (it was extensive, ok? Cut me some slack I was four) I had been put through at that tender age, was not as stuck up as he was. Turns out it wasn't because he felt superior to others, as most people outside the clan thought, he was just very insightful and preferred to assess the situation before taking part in it.

His father, the Uchiha clan head Fugaku, was insanely proud of him, and he had reason to. Itachi was a prodigy in every sense of the word, excelling in every ninja art at a very young age and showing more promise than any other child in Konohagakure no Sato. But what no one expected from the quiet prodigy, was the fact that he was one of these people; one of those who love too much.

My childhood had been good enough considering the times we were living in. I had grown up within the safe walls of the Uchiha compound, caging me in for six years until I would be allowed to enroll in the academy, keeping me from seeing much of the village and even less of the world. Not that this was uncommon, after all I was a child; but it was at that young age that life started shaping itself around me, and events that would be shaping my future, started taking place.

"But onii-chan, I already practiced shuriken jutsu and kunai this morning! Why can't you teach me more taijutsu?"

Ah, the innocent, peaceful days when my only concerns were regarding my training. For some reason, even if I was a spoilt brat most times, my brother managed to somehow keep his cool; he was good with children like that, even if he was only two years older.

"Akane, your taijutsu is nearly perfect; you're the only one who could give Fugaku-sama's son a run for his money. Your other skills need honing too, you know?" I pouted. I used to do that a lot back in the day, so much in fact that Shisui had become immune to its effects, unlike our grandparents.

I took the weapons basket my brother handed me and once again, turned to face the target hung on the sole sakura tree in our garden. It had become a routine with the passing of the years, after our parents died in the war, Shisui had decided to take my training upon himself; since our grandparents were too old (and in my oba-chans case, too reluctant) for the task. So ever since I could stand up straight, Shisui had attempted to give me the knowledge he had acquired over his few years ahead of me. So far, he had been succeeding, and with my upcoming entrance exam in two years and Shisui's eventual graduation, we tried to spend as much time together as possible.

All of this led to a very strict training schedule we followed almost religiously. Before Shisui left for the academy, we would do a series of stretches and warm-ups, followed by our daily morning spar. And when I say spar, I mean a four year old attempting to pose a challenge to her seven year old brother. Anyway, Shisui would leave for class after breakfast and a bath, and I would get stuck with obaa-chan and the chores for the rest of the morning. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, doing the futons, I hated it all; but I did it without complaining or slacking off for obaa-chan's sake.

After that, I would help jii-chan at his shop in the Uchiha district market. He was a blacksmith, one of the best among the clan, and I had always loved watching him turn raw iron into the fine pieces of art that were considered his blades. Most customers were members of the clan, but every now and then came people from other parts of the village; and since I rarely stepped out of the compound, these were the most interesting days.

The bell hung on top of the front door chimed, snapping me out of my reading induced trance; I marked the page I was reading and put the book under the counter. Chakra control was a very important part of shinobi lifestyle, and I'd taken to read it's theory after a rather long rant Shisui had gone on after being under graded at the academy. The chunin sensei had obviously been in the wrong, so I was determined to, when the time came, point this person in the right direction and avenge my brother. No one looked down on Uchiha Shisui without facing the wrath of his younger sister, ever.

I let go of my still unborn plan for vengeance as I saw one of my favorite cousins enter the shop.

"Obi-niiiiiiii" I screeched as I jumped down from the stool behind the counter and made my way to him as fast as my short legs allowed me.

I only stopped a few feet away when I saw he wasn't alone. Embarrassing Obito-nii in front of his friends would not do. I would have loved to force the air out of my cousin with all the force a four year old could put into a hug, but apart from embarrassing him, I would put a blemish in the spotless name of the Uchiha with such childish behavior. So before I could give jii-chan a reason to scold me, I bowed down at the waist and tried to put the best impression of 'shinobi Shisui' on my face.

"Obi-chan, Onii-san, Onee-san; welcome to Uchiha Fuko's armory. What can I do for you?"

The girl behind my cousin cooed as silently as she could to try and not hurt my pride; while the silver haired boy simply acknowledged me with a slight bow of his own. Meanwhile, Obito smiled proudly and held his held high, probably showing off, with a light blush on his cheeks.

"Mah, Akane-chan, no need for formalities, this is just my team. This is Rin, and The gloomy bastard is Kakashi, I call him Bakashi though, It's more fun that way." The last part he whispered, shooting me a cheeky grin.

My cousin had always been quite easy to read, but the fact that a four year old could tell he was extremely pleased, spoke volumes. When Obito was pleased about something, he tended to boast, a lot; thus providing me with a semi-reliable information source; one just had to know where to look. That was how I came to know they were due another mission the next day, which delighted me in a way only Shisui knew. I had always been almost morbidly interested in anything shinobi, so this new information summoned a wave of curiosity and enthusiasm that I could only just hide.

"So you need more supplies for your new mission, is that right? Should I get your usual order of kunai, shuriken and fire conducting wire? Or will you need something else? I heard things are getting rough out in the battlefield."

I tried to hide my curiosity as best I could, Obito might have been a bit naïve, but I had heard about a silver haired prodigy before, and didn't want to get caught red handed trying to collect information. Thank goodness, he seemed to think I was interested in the subject, or at least making polite conversation; because he gave no signs of being onto me. Meanwhile both Obito and Rin looked amused by my 'playing adult' and had bright smiles on their faces as well as their full attention on me.

Ever since I had first started speaking, I'd found that different words and expressions, got different reactions out of people. Shisui, being the ideal shinobi trainee, had wasted no time in helping me hone that skill. He said information gathering and manipulation were key abilities for a shinobi to have; but that should only be used on the enemy. Of course, being a four year old, my 'enemy' was whoever happened to have what I wanted. In this case, Obito-nii and his team.

Obito put his hands on his knees and crouched to my height in order to address me. I, on my behalf stood straighter at attention, like my brother had told me when being addressed by a superior.

"That, Akane-chan, is classified information." he said slowly, clearly with the intention of letting my brain take in the new word; but I had been in the same room as my brother when he studied, it wasn't completely foreign to me.

I nodded rapidly and took a step back to address the other two, obaa-chan would have my head if she heard I was impolite to customers; and she would sure flip if she knew said customers were friends and comrades of the Uchiha.

"Rin-san, Kakashi-san, were you two looking for anything in particular? Our shop has quite the reputation for our work with chakra conducting metals." I said and made my way behind the counter to look for my cousin's usual order.

I struggled a bit with my yukata when I tried to climb the ladders and reach the top shelves behind the counter; but I managed to avoid breaking my neck and look at least a bit like I knew what I was doing. Traditional clothes were very restricting, when movement was concerned, but it sure looked good on a shopkeeper.

"That's the reason we are here actually, Uchiha-san. Both Kakashi and me are in need of chakra conducting blades." Answered the girl politely, the gleam of amusement still present in her eyes.

The other boy, on the other hand, who I was now certain, was the last member of the Hatake clan, stood silently to the side. He was eyeing up a tanto that was being displayed on a shelve to the side. He had a good eye, if I was being honest. The blade was not just beautifully decorated, displaying a wolf pack in the hunt on the side; but it was also of the finest quality my jii-chan had ever been able to make.

"I am no expert in that specific area," I said climbing down and placing my cousin's order on the front desk. "Would you please excuse me while I fetch my grandfather?"

When the lone kunoichi nodded, I smiled as sweetly as I could. Turns out Fuko Jii-chan was done with his orders for the day; so when the customers left, with their personal needs satisfied, I was allowed to go home and wait for Shisui.

In the afternoons, my brother would tell me about the lessons he had had that day or even a story if he had one about his classmates or teachers. After that, he would oversee my chakra training for the day. On this special discipline, I struggled more than was considered appropriate for a member of the Uchiha clan. Shisui worked hard to encourage me and hide his concern, but even if I was four, the disappointment whenever the leaf fell from my forehead, was still present in my eyes.

I tried really hard not to get discouraged, my brother was making a huge effort, and giving in to despair would be like throwing it all away. I didn't care if the clan thought of me as a disgrace; I just wanted to make my brother proud, to make him acknowledge me as a capable individual, someone worthy of being his sister.

I panted hard, trying to regain my composure, as my brother sat cross legged in front of me; leaf still firmly chakra-bound to my forehead.

"Nii-san, this isn't working!"

I wasn't trying to be ungrateful, not at all, but there was clearly something I was doing wrong; and it wasn't only compromising my training and hindering my development, it was making me a burden for Shisui. I never wanted to burden my brother, ever.

"Maybe Obaa-chan is right, maybe I'm no good-"

"Nonsense" Shisui never showed his frustration, not when it came to me; but for some reason, whenever I mentioned the issue with Obaa-chan he seemed really bothered by it. "If you want to be a Shinobi; that is what you will become. It makes no difference if you develop slower than everybody else in the clan. You will not be a career bride if you so clearly don't wish to."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before standing from his place on the training ground floor.

"I don't care if I have to train you myself. We will make an outstanding kunoichi out of you, Akane-chan." Shisui offered me his hand with a tired smile and waited for me to take it.

I couldn't help but hug him once I was on my feet. I knew he meant every single word he had said, he always did; and the fact that he so clearly had my future in consideration, showed me just how much he cared, and how lucky I was.

"Thank you Nii-chan, you are the best."

Shisui smiled right back at me and crouched, offering me his back. It had become almost a ritual; whenever we would be done with afternoon training, Shisui would give me a piggyback ride back home.

"Everyone deserves to live their own lives the way they want to, to make their own decisions and learn from their mistakes. No one is the same, Akane, and even if you don't agree with them, you should respect the path they have chosen."

The usual buzz surrounding the main road in the Uchiha compound was noticeably absent as we made our way through; it was to be expected since business was a lot less in the evenings. Very few people could be seen roaming around, and the few shop keepers that usually worked late were now closing up their stores.

"what if someone makes a bad decision, Nii-chan?" I asked quietly, noticing that I had no need to raise my voice above a whisper for him to hear me. The atmosphere around us was very calm and gave off a sense of warmth and comfort that I didn't want to break.

"Then you can do nothing but accept that it is the path they have chosen for themselves; and that they will have to face the consequences no matter what. Just make sure you never enforce those consequences out of spite, anger or vengeance, Akane. If someone has to atone for their sins, then let yourself be guided by your sense of justice."

Not entirely sure about what he had just said, I decided to just nod and let my head rest against his shoulder. I would later in life realize what he had meant back then; when friends and family would turn into criminals if only for a series of bad decisions.

[roraruu]

wip: eyes on target

an old one that i polished up bc HAAAAA FAYBIN RIGHTS

“You watchin’ kid?”

Tobin snaps back to attention as Python steps in front of his gaze. His cheeks heat furiously with a blush. His arrow nocks against the indent on his bow, sliding down and falling to the ground. Tobin swoops down to pick it up. “I asked you a question.” He glances up, the elder towering over him with an unimpressed look across his normally-tired face.

Shit, Tobin thinks to himself, doing his best to make the blush on his face fade. He puts the arrow back into his quiver, standing at full height. His grip tightens around the handle of his bow. “I was watching.” He says as politely as he can. Something about Python tries his nerves, be it his apathy or his incorrigible nature. He’s supposed to mentor him, show him how to become a better archer, but majority of the time Python is telling him to go piss up a rope.

“Then what was I doin’?” He challenges.

He scrambles for something, anything that will convince the archer that he’s focused on their lesson. He spies a tin of beeswax and a spool of extra string nearby. “You were just showing me how to restring a bow.” He says, forcing confidence.

He makes a loud eh!, throwing his thumb down. “Wrong kid!” He says. “You haven’t watched for a damn second. I’m working for nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” Tobin says. He stands straighter, his eyes flickering to the ground.

“Sorry doesn’t give me back the half hour of my life that I just spent on you.” He says bitterly. Tobin’s gaze flickers back to it’s original spot as he speaks. The elder frowns, following his gaze. “What were you even staring at...”

Tobin quickly turns his eyes to the ground again, trying to find something of note to focus on. But he’s too late. Python’s gaze is set on Clair and Faye and their winged mounts, locked in training. Clair stands, calling out for Faye to steady her hand and mind. Faye is astride her pegasus, her back curved ever so slightly as she hauls her arm back and throws the weapon, landing below her target. A look of realization comes over Python’s face as he practically rips the bow out of Tobin’s hand and turns away.

“H-Hey!” Tobin goes to argue, “I can focus, I know I can, just give me another chance,“ he pleads.

“You don’t get another chance kid.”

“Python, you’re supposed to—“

“I’m not supposed to be babysittin’ you if that’s what you were going to say.” He says. Tobin’s shocked at how easily he goes from disinterest to disdain. For once in his life, Python is giving a shit and of course it’s the worst moment for poor Tobin. His eyes widen as the elder steps past him, a frown on his lips. “If you’re going to waste the lesson mooning over—“

“Please stop,” Tobin says as sternly as he can.

He ignores him, pointing a gloved finger towards the young ladies and their steeds. “—Over pegasus knights rather than the enemy before you, I’m not going to waste my time.” He says, stringing the additional bow over his chest.

“I wasn’t mooning—“ he argues as quietly as he can. Python’s loudness has garnered the attention of Clair, who looks over her shoulder with a raised brow. He lowers his voice even further.

“Fine, staring at the knights. That better?” Python japes bitterly, voice growing louder.

“Python, please.” He begs. His cheeks flush in embarrassment as he lowers his head.

“Keep your head in the clouds, and you’ll sooner shoot her in the back than in the heart.” He warns, looping the other bow around his back this time. Faye and Clair have stopped their lesson, glancing over to them. Tobin stares at the ground, face burning and fists clenching as he glances towards the two again. They look up as Python walks off, leaving Tobin to flush bitterly and kick up dust as he leaves the training field.

—

Tobin finds Python with Forsyth after the meal. They’re sitting out at the edge of camp. There’s a fine view of rolling Zofian meadows that used to be farmers’ fields. The soil is too barren to grow now and what used to be crop space is now nothing more than a large grass meadow. An unwanted fallow covers the land—no villagers wish to plant grain or vegetables that will be trampled by cavalry and infantry. The sky is clear, twinkling stars lighting up the dim night. There’s a lantern between the two and a bottle of ale at Python’s fingertips. Alcohol is forbidden amongst the Deliverance—or at least, heavily frowned upon unless it’s in the hands of the holy and offered to Mila’s servants. If they’re trying to hide it from others, they’re doing a shit job. Tobin thinks.

Forsyth’s loud and chipper voice dies down as he notices Tobin’s shadow. The knight leans closer. “Python, I think you have a visitor—“

The archer is stretched out against a log, arms across the bark. He cranes his head around, a smarmy smile on his face. “Oh there she is, the angel visiting us sinners—“ his voice dies down as he notices Tobin.

“It’s not Lady Silque.” Forsyth says with a short laugh. Python’s smile turns to a frown as he turns away from the villager.

“Can I talk to you?” Tobin asks. He’s pleased by the slip-up on Python’s part, but it’s not enough to quell the annoyance from embarrassing him.

Python’s got the bottle of ale in his hand and a frown on his face. “I’m off duty kid.” He says gruffly.

“Python, our job is to mentor—“ Forsyth warns, spiralling into a short lecture on the importance of questions and being open to helping at all times. Python rolls his eyes, his fingers and thumb moving along to the lecture he’s heard thousands of times.

Forsyth finishes, sitting tall and proud as if he’s actually gotten through that thick skull. Python throws back another drink of his ale. “Fine.” He says, forcing a smile that looks more strained than sincere. “What do you want Tobin?”

“I need to speak privately. Sorry.” He says, glancing to Forsyth, who is already on his feet.

“Say no more. I’ll go see if Lady Silque needs help.” He says. Then, with a little smirk says, “I’ll give her your regards.”

“Tell her I’ll be seeing her tonight.” Python calls, waving the bottle in the air.

“You better not be!” Forsyth warns sternly, he turns away beginning the short walk back to their encampment.

The archer chuckles lowly before glancing to Tobin. He lays further back against the log, staring off into the night sky. “What do you want?” He asks.

“I’m sorry about practice today.”

“Are you?” Python challenges, glancing to him. “Because you don’t look like it. You look like you’re a kid who got caught stealing goodies.”

Tobin scoffs, regretting the idea to apologize. “You know, you can be such an asshole sometimes. Like today.”

“That makes two of us.”

Tobin frowns. “Why were you so short during the lesson?” He asks, crossing his arms. “I’m every bit as strong as you and yet you’re treating me like an idiot. I know how to take aim, I know how to shoo—“

Python interrupts, a harsh gaze narrowing on him. “Because while I have talent, you’ve got focus.” He says, tipping the bottle back. “And it’s not on the bow in your hands.”

“It is!” He argues. “I’m focused, I can handle myself—“

“Then how come you were staring at Clair and Faye the entire session?” He demands, placing the bottle on the ground and crossing his arms. “I could’ve sworn I saw a puddle of drool at your feet. No girl thinks that’s cute.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” He scoffs, glancing away.

“Ha! You speak like I haven’t seen my share of girl problems.” The elder says. He juts a thumb at himself.

“Who would date you?”

“Who said I dated them?” He retorts with a smarmy smirk.

Tobin internally gags, thinking of poor Silque dealing with this drunk bastard. “You’re despicable.”

“True love doesn’t exist kid.” He says, pointing a finger at him. “And it’s not worth losing your life over. If you don’t put your training first, you’ll be dead on the battlefield and she won’t give a damn.”

Tobin stays quiet. “You speak from experience?”

“Maybe.”

There’s a silence that follows as Python tilts back the bottle again. A frown crosses Tobin’s lips as Python speaks again, this time a tiny bit softer. “You gotta work this out though. You can’t go riskin’ your neck just for a glance at a girl.”

“Do I have to?” He says, face scrunching up at the thought of exchanging gossip with his mentor.

“It’ll help.” Python says. “And I won’t judge. That much...”

He lets out a sigh, lowering himself onto the log. Python‘s arm stretches out, holding the bottle between his fingertips and taps it against Tobin’s knee. He hesitates for a second before taking it, swirling the ale around for a second as he thinks. He takes a drink, relishing the bitter barley taste on his tongue.

“So lay it down. Which one of them has your fancy?” The elder asks before leaning forwards. “Unless they both do—“

“Gods no.” He says, almost sputtering out the alcohol. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, regretting the decision to talk with Python. The elder holds his hand out for the bottle.

“Who then?”

Tobin shifts nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. His mentor, asking a question on which girl he admired more. A disgusting man, who is trying to bond with him over women. A bond is a bond, Tobin thinks, staying quiet.

“Should I guess then?” Python asks, rubbing his chin in false thought. “Probably Clair. You and the other rugrat have that competition going on right? Word of warning, she is annoying. Won’t shut the hell up unless her brother tells her to. Maybe let your sucker of a friend have her—”

“It’s not Clair.” Tobin says quickly. He covers his face with his hands.

Python’s brow raises as he leans towards him. “Faye?” He asks in disbelief.

“What?” Tobin says. “She’s my friend and lately I’ve been worried about her...”

“Riiiiight. Worried about her.” Python nods, taking another sip of the ale. “Be honest... are you getting jealous over her and Alm?”

“No.” He says, face flushed. He feels like a child, spilling the beans on something so personal.

“Oh so you’re okay with being second choice?” He asks.

“No.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know why she’s so head over heels for him, I just wish it were different, but it’s not so.”

“Why is she like that then?” He asks, intrigued by the gossip. He passes him the bottle. Instead of drinking, Tobin just swirls it around slowly, focusing on the circular movements.

“When we were kids, a knight visited our village. He wasn’t the good kind either.”

“There’s a good kind of knight?” Python japes.

“Anyways, Alm saved her from being taken captive,” Tobin says. “I... I might’ve gotten us into that situation for the record.”

Python lets out a harsh laugh. “Then I don’t blame her for looking past you.” He says.

“Gee thanks.” Tobin says sarcastically.

“So you’re childhood friends? You older than her? She might like a guy who can take care of her.” Python suggests.

“She’s a year older than me. And you’ve seen her, she’s a demon!” He says.

Python hoists himself up onto the log, rolling his neck so it cracks. “She’s been there, like... everywhere.” Tobin says. “She used to horse around with us back when we were kids, and seeing her as a knight now is just... weird.”

Python nods before narrowing his gaze. “That it?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Python asks, brow furrowing. “Last battle you almost got hit twice because you were staring at the back of her head—“

“She’s pretty okay?!” He says. “Really pretty...”

“So you’ve got a thing for the weird girls who pine after guys and then don’t even acknowledge you.”

“Faye isn’t weird!”

“Easy stud.” Python says, holding his hands up. “Meant no harm.”

The younger archer hangs his head, taking another drink from the bottle. “Gods, this is embarrassing.”

“The feeling’s mutual kid.” Python says. “But I’m not about to train you if you can’t keep your focus on your target and not her bu—“ Tobin’s fierce glare stops him for a split second, but that aggravating annoyance resurfaces. “Backside.”

“What do you suggest then?”

“You have to work around these things.” He says. “Believe me, it’s tough but you’ll grow used to it.”

“Or else?”

“Or else you’ll be the one shooting down Faye.” He says, leaning over to swipe the bottle up.

“How do I work around them?” He asks.

“Two options. Maybe three if you’re adventurous.” Python says, holding up three fingers and wiggling the third. “The first you get over her.”

Tobin stares dumbly at him.

He shrugs. “Worth a shot. I hate young love. Fucking iron-clad.” He mutters. “Second, you get Alm to break her heart. She likes him right?”

“I think she’s still in love with him,” he says painfully.

“All he has to do is say no. She’d probably back off after that.” Python says. “She comes off as meek and polite enough, so it seems the best option,”

“What if I don’t wanna break her heart?” He asks, glancing to Python. “I don’t think I could do that to her. She’s my friend before anything else.”

Python smirks, clearly enjoying such scuttlebutt. “Number three which is only for brave souls...”

“I’m brave enough.” He insists, leaning towards the elder.

Python taps his nose. “You tell her how you feel.” He says as Tobin rests his elbows on his knees, hanging his head once again.

“She’d laugh in my face.” He whines.

“So?”

“So I’d be embarrassed!” Tobin says tiredly.

“Hey, it’s her loss if she doesn’t like you for you.”

“You sound like my Ma.”

“Listen,” Python says quietly, touching Tobin’s shoulder. “You know Faye right? What she likes and doesn’t?”

“I’ve got an idea.” He says.

“Would she laugh you off?”

“I don’t think so,”

“Then that’s enough right?” He asks, shrugging.

“Easy enough for you to say, all you have to worry about is making Silque blush. You don’t give a shit about anyone.” He says annoyedly. He takes another drink from the bottle, this time longer and headier.

“Hey, if heaven is real and speaks, she’d be the last one talkin.” Python says with a shrug.

The younger hands the rest of the bottle to Python, leaning towards him. “So is she your girl?”

He almost chokes on the ale, dropping it into the younger’s hands. “Gods no,” he says. Python snatches the bottle of ale from his hands, frowning. “Enough for you, lush.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tobin says under his breath.

“Listen to me, all you have to do is be honest with her. Go at your own pace.” Python says.

Tobin nods. “Yeah whatever.”

Another bout of silence falls as Python raises the bottle to his lips and finishes it off. He sits up, hauling his arm back as far as he can and throws it into the meadow. It rolls off, out of their line of sight. Tobin glances up, looking expectantly for shattered pieces.

Python nudges his shoulder. “C’mon, what are you going to say,” he asks.

“What?” Tobin asks.

“Out with it. What are you going to say to Faye?” Python asks. “A part of archery is knowing your stance and your target. Think of it that way.“

“What do you want to pretend you’re her?”

“No idiot,” he says. “What would you say to Faye if she were—here.”

His face blanches, glancing up behind him. Tobin doesn’t notice the silent footsteps or light pink dress of the Pegasus knight. Python avoids her gaze, telling her to go with his eyes. 

Idiot. She doesn’t listen, only stares on with continued worry and confusion. She’s too headstrong to turn around, instead taking another threatening step forwards. Python hides a smirk as Tobin rambles.

“I don’t know... probably that she’s really pretty and that she’s always on my mind? Is that stupid? Weird?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably is. Wait, no. I should tell her that I really care about her. That I like her the way she is...” Python hides behind his hand, shaking his head. “What?! Is that too cheesy? Too dorky?” Tobin asks asks. “Python c’mon, don’t leave me hanging—“ “Tobin?” His blood freezes for a second before boiling. His gaze narrows on Python who pretends to stretch. “Well I think I’m going to go see our favourite healer now,” He says quickly, winking at the younger of the two. “Eyes on the target, stud.”

[chinarsi]

( DACRE MONTGOMERY + HE/HIM ) —  Hey, were you just talking to ANTONELLO LUCCHESE ? The THIRTY year old is a STRIP CLUB OWNER/UNDERBOSS who resides in MANHATTAN. HE has been living in NYC for TWENTY-SIX YEARS, and is known to be EFFICIENT and AFFECTIONATE, but can also be IMPULSIVE and PERVERTED. Word on the street is they’ve got some heavy ties with THE GUERRAS so I’d steer clear if you know what’s good for you.

**TW: **implied attempted murder, child abuse, abandonment; mental illness mention

First name: Antonello

Middle name(s): Giuseppe / “Pinky”

Surname: Lucchese

Age: 30

Date of birth: November 19, 1990

Religious values: Raised Roman Catholic but considers himself agnostic and a vitalist

Location: Spanish Harlem, Manhattan, New York

Occupation and length of time: Underboss/Strip club owner, 15 years

Affiliation: Guerra

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Relationship status: Divorced

Nationality: Considers himself Italian American ( fathers’ side is from Palermo, Sicily, mothers’ side is from Eastern Germany )

Languages known: English, Italian, German, Russian

Style of speaking: Politically incorrect

Birth Country: United States

Hometown: Crown Heights, Brooklyn

Parents: Bill and Teresa Lucchese

Siblings: Amy Lucchese

Pets: Amethystine python, Jinn, and an albino boa constrictor, Rasputin

Height: 5'11

Weight: 183 lbs

Eye color: Light blue

Hair color: Dark brown

Build of body: Stocky, muscular, aka a brickshit house

Tattoos: None

Piercings: Earlobe

Typical clothing: Business casual to very casual, button-downs/linen pants and vintage suits (*Three Looks by Jenna Marbles plays quietly in the background*)

Personality: “ Did you guys come by ? “ ( Ends at 8:32 ; it’s worth the watch, I swear lmao )

“ Como se dice ? How you say what happing ? whA HAPPING HEA. ” ( Starts at 2:52, ends at 11:36 )

Likes: Winning, music, Friedrich Nietzsche, indulgence, working out, and reading

Dislikes: Birds, uncertainty, technology, anything grape flavored, waiting, swimming in open water/the ocean, drama, younger generations

Pet peeves: Being ignored or interrupted, knuckle cracking, people eating with their mouths open

Hobbies/past times: Running, swimming, cooking, fencing, journaling, marksmanship, knife throwing, reading, avid glass collector and tobacco aficionado

Guilty pleasures: An old soul; loves red wine, Telenovelas, listening to either Nina Simone or Amy Winehouse, and pain

Talents: Can play piano, coronet, drums, braid hair and relocate an entire family in less than 48 hours

Education: Highschool dropout

Fears: Heights, dying alone, being asked to go to Italy

Goals: Settle the family dispute and to keep his ex-wife in the dark about what he does

General attitude: Quiet, reserved, snarky

General intelligence: Somewhat above average

General sociability: Average to below average

Illnesses (if any): Traumatized, most likely very depressed, bat shit crazy and probably a bit of a sociopath, but views seeing a Dr./Therapist is just as dangerous as becoming an informant.

Allergies (if any): Cats, amoxicillin/penicillin

Sleeping habits: Sleeps 3-4 hours normally, gets up early and stays up late, is sometimes up for days

Energy level: Depends on the day, could be moderate, low and very rarely high

Eating habits: Eats more than three times a day, mostly pasta, meat, bread, and sweets

Memory: Fair and remembers faces well but tends to repress quite a bit from his life/childhood, under certain circumstances it is poor

Any unhealthy habits: Overspending, binge eating, smoking, not getting enough rest, binge drinking, uses recreational drugs daily

Peaceful or violent: Unpredictable

Weapon (if applicable): Gun, golf club, curling iron, hands

Favorite types of food: Anything you put in front of him

Favorite types of drink: Water, wine and Ski soda

Favorite colors: Black, earth and neutral tones

Favorite types of music: 1. 2. 3.

Hobbies/past times: Running, swimming, cooking, fencing, journaling, marksmanship, knife throwing, reading, avid glass collector and tobacco aficionado

Guilty pleasures: An old soul; loves red wine, Telenovelas, listening to either Nina Simone or Amy Winehouse, and pain

Strengths: Efficient, passionate, observant, protective, loyal, brave, affectionate, poised, fair, chivalrous, playful, honest, romantic

Weaknesses: Intolerant, childish, negative, stubborn, short-tempered, impatient, perverted, aggressive, blunt, reclusive, paranoid, impulsive, secretive

Wcs: His ex wife, house mom/house dad/business partner, fwb, old friends, regular/associate turned bff, rival that manages to win & screw him over, fwbs that get involved/find out about his double life and are put in danger

Quirks/facts: 

* Nicknamed “pinky” by a small group of friends when his now ex-wife found out he spent his life savings on a strip club and attempted to sever his pinky finger with a pair of thinning shears, also due to the simple fact, he never leaves the house without his grandfather’s gold teamster pinky ring placed on that exact finger

* In most situations he’s the extremely respectful, strong and silent type

* Extremely quick to anger, doesn’t take much to aggravate and provoke him, but he can also be an unpredictably warm, affectionate, goofy individual

* Agnostic and believes you should indulge in all of your desires but always in gentle moderation

* Has a machivelian yet moral mindset

* His respect for women knows no bounds

* Has a really loud sneeze and goes into sneeze fits

* Brutally honest

* Likes to go on late night/early morning shopping trips

* Gets too emotionally attached to people that shouldn’t matter

* Always carries a tiny notebook with him

* No shame in his game but cautious, composed, and always aware of his surroundings

* Has to move things around in a certain pattern before going to sleep

* Experienced alot but tends to keep to himself, there’s very few people that actually know him

* Bruises super easily

* Writes and eats with his left hand but is right hand dominant

* Likes to memorize numbers instead of saving contacts in his phone

* Gets homesick very easily

* Brushes his teeth up to five times a day

* Generous with his money, purely for selfish and superstitious reasons, but only for close friends and associates

* Likes to stay off social media

* Gets his heart broken too often

* Holds grudges like no other

* Will be loyal to the mob until he takes his last breath and would rather die than be forced to send anyone to prison

* Firmly believes in the healing power of sit-downs

* Would never take advantage of a drunk woman, but defintely would get drunk just to get taken advantage of

* Don’t fuck around though, has high libido and occasionally low stamina; a wrong look alone could get you pregnant

* Sanctioned hits directly from the boss have always made him uncomfortable and nervous, no matter who he’s working under

* Takes murder very seriously

Bio: Antonello Guiseppe Lucchese was born three months prematurely to Bill and Teressa on a chilly November night in Brooklyn, New York.

He doesn’t remember much from his childhood other than he never really had a mother and father, but figures he might have gotten luckier not having them around. Apparently, his mother worked numerous jobs to keep a roof over their heads for years, until dealing with the constant absence of his father became too much to bear. Then, at just the fragile age of three and four years old, both Amy and Antonello Lucchese were carted off to Crown Heights, New York to permanently stay with a mixed family of uncles, cousins, and loving grandparents, almost all the surviving members of the Lucchese crime family in a small three-bedroom apartment.

Most of their wives had passed away or left them by the time they’d arrived, so it was a lot like growing up in a dingy old bar but, both children grew up and learned quickly from their mistakes. Learned to use them to their advantage, but every once in a while there would be unnecessary punishments, overdramatic arguments, dinners missed and uneasy, awkward mornings, but. It was more than what anyone else could have given them, so they were grateful nonetheless.

Everything changed drastically for Antonello when he entered the fifth grade. Things became easier to deal with at home, but not exactly in the way anyone had expected. Especially not his grandmother. He’d always clung to her for guidance, support, and love but the moment the family exposed the young heart to their lifestyle, he broke away and heedlessly dove in.

No one had forced him into anything, but as the years passed, most relatives and himself included were absolutely convinced that he was made for it, and it was made for him. Although it was in his blood, after all, a large number of them also knew it marked the end of his innocence, and the beginning of ruthless trek towards a twisted, egotistical version of manhood and success.

In the span of six years, he’d become the youngest in the family to rise through the ranks in a proud, composed fashion and landed a spot right beneath his grandfather. He was creative, intelligent and respectful in a way that the elders of the Italian mob began to appreciate more than the efforts of his own immediate family, so soon after Antonello realized the long list of dead or incarcerated relatives were mostly rats, scumbags, and hypocrites, coincidentally, he was asked to leave.

Then while out at the local bowling alley, his cousins spotted one of his better friends groping his girlfriend. He didn’t even make it twenty-four hours after his grandmother had broken the news of the heartless eviction, and the younger boy spent almost two weeks in the hospital. Luckily, her grandson wasn’t around long enough to suffer any harsh consequences, or god forbid a life sentence but, one punishment that should have been totally unrelated, would slowly begin to ruin his life.

Out of pure fear of her older brother and grandparents, Amy Lucchese decided to finish her high school career at home and cut all ties with him. Shortly after the devastating blow, a family friend was contacted and made arrangments for him to stay in East Harlem. 

Present: Has resided in East Harlem for the past fifteen years, staying moderately silent and unlocatable until being promoted to underboss. Currently works for the Guerra family, laundering money and holding meetings through his own business until the doors open every evening. He is recently divorced, lives alone above an old pizza joint and prefers a conventional lifestyle even though he loves what he does.

Although Show N' Tail opened in 2017, the wide variety of male and female dancers, elaborate drag shows, light shows, warm and cozy atmosphere, has made it one of the most decadent and revered clubs in the area.

[coffeebased]

Would it be terrible if I kept doing this: popping onto WordPress once a year, for a week, just to chirp energetically about the things I’d done the previous year, before disappearing into the aether? Who would sanction me? Other than myself, of course, but I think that I have enough things to distract my conscience. My annually-updated reading blog hardly takes precedence over my other responsibilities and the reparations that have swallowed up my life.

  I know that I was due one more blog post in January 2019, about reading stats being compared across the years. How convenient it is that that is exactly what I shall be doing now, here in January 2020.

  My ideal posting schedule for 2020 will be as follows:

  2019 Books I have read and my 10 favourite ones (right now! Oh, happy day!)

2019 Reading Statistics (1/11)

Reading Statistics: 2013-2019 (1/18)

Goal-setting for 2020 (1/25)

  This was the system I tried to implement last year. Two out of three posts completed is still a failing mark. And goodness knows if I will manage to stick to that schedule this year, let alone what happens after those posts. That’s every Saturday for January settled. In previous years I used to do everything in one big post and that was great, like, very cathartic, but posts had gotten more and more unwieldy.

  This is such a heartening beginning to a blog post: complete abandonment to the four winds. No commitment! Just my own satisfaction. In 2020, forget overpromising, we are lackadaisically mentioning that we have some ideas that may or may not push through.

  I read 126 books in 2019! You can view the complete list: here. It’s the second least number of books I’ve read since I started documenting my reading habits in 2013. I’m not really surprised since I spent most of the year gathering data in the field or studying. More on that in succeeding blog posts.

  Previous year-end reading posts are here: 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 a b|.

  My Ten Favourite Books from Those I Read in 2019

    The Sparrow and Children of God by Mary Doria Russell

  In 2019, humanity finally finds proof of extraterrestrial life when a listening post in Puerto Rico picks up exquisite singing from a planet that will come to be known as Rakhat. While United Nations diplomats endlessly debate a possible first contact mission, the Society of Jesus quietly organizes an eight-person scientific expedition of its own. What the Jesuits find is a world so beyond comprehension that it will lead them to question what it means to be “human”.

Kid Gloves: Nine Months of Careful Chaos by Lucy Knisley

  If you work hard enough, if you want it enough, if you’re smart and talented and “good enough,” you can do anything.Except get pregnant.Her whole life, Lucy Knisley wanted to be a mother. But when it was finally the perfect time, conceiving turned out to be harder than anything she’d ever attempted. Fertility problems were followed by miscarriages, and her eventual successful pregnancy plagued by health issues, up to a dramatic, near-death experience during labor and delivery.This moving, hilarious, and surprisingly informative memoir not only follows Lucy’s personal transition into motherhood but also illustrates the history and science of reproductive health from all angles, including curious facts and inspiring (and notorious) figures in medicine and midwifery. Whether you’ve got kids, want them, or want nothing to do with them, there’s something in this graphic memoir to open your mind and heart.

    The Raven Tower by Anne Leckie

  For centuries, the kingdom of Iraden has been protected by the god known as the Raven. He watches over his territory from atop a tower in the powerful port of Vastai. His will is enacted through the Raven’s Lease, a human ruler chosen by the god himself. His magic is sustained via the blood sacrifice that every Lease must offer. And under the Raven’s watch, the city flourishes.

But the power of the Raven is weakening. A usurper has claimed the throne. The kingdom borders are tested by invaders who long for the prosperity that Vastai boasts. And they have made their own alliances with other gods.

It is into this unrest that the warrior Eolo–aide to Mawat, the true Lease–arrives. And in seeking to help Mawat reclaim his city, Eolo discovers that the Raven’s Tower holds a secret. Its foundations conceal a dark history that has been waiting to reveal itself…and to set in motion a chain of events that could destroy Iraden forever.

    Lent by Jo Walton

  Young Girolamo’s life is a series of miracles.

It’s a miracle that he can see demons, plain as day, and that he can cast them out with the force of his will. It’s a miracle that he’s friends with Pico della Mirandola, the Count of Concordia. It’s a miracle that when Girolamo visits the deathbed of Lorenzo “the Magnificent,” the dying Medici is wreathed in celestial light, a surprise to everyone, Lorenzo included. It’s a miracle that when Charles VIII of France invades northern Italy, Girolamo meets him in the field, and convinces him to not only spare Florence but also protect it. It’s a miracle than whenever Girolamo preaches, crowds swoon. It’s a miracle that, despite the Pope’s determination to bring young Girolamo to heel, he’s still on the loose… and, now, running Florence in all but name.

That’s only the beginning. Because Girolamo Savanarola is not who—or what—he thinks he is. He will discover the truth about himself at the most startling possible time. And this will be only the beginning of his many lives.

    A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

  Ambassador Mahit Dzmare arrives in the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire only to discover that her predecessor, the previous ambassador from their small but fiercely independent mining Station, has died. But no one will admit that his death wasn’t an accident—or that Mahit might be next to die, during a time of political instability in the highest echelons of the imperial court.

Now, Mahit must discover who is behind the murder, rescue herself, and save her Station from Teixcalaan’s unceasing expansion—all while navigating an alien culture that is all too seductive, engaging in intrigues of her own, and hiding a deadly technological secret—one that might spell the end of her Station and her way of life—or rescue it from annihilation.

    Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki, Rosemary Valero O’Connell

  Laura Dean, the most popular girl in high school, was Frederica Riley’s dream girl: charming, confident, and SO cute. There’s just one problem: Laura Dean is maybe not the greatest girlfriend.

Reeling from her latest break up, Freddy’s best friend, Doodle, introduces her to the Seek-Her, a mysterious medium, who leaves Freddy some cryptic parting words: break up with her. But Laura Dean keeps coming back, and as their relationship spirals further out of her control, Freddy has to wonder if it’s really Laura Dean that’s the problem. Maybe it’s Freddy, who is rapidly losing her friends, including Doodle, who needs her now more than ever.

Fortunately for Freddy, there are new friends, and the insight of advice columnists like Anna Vice to help her through being a teenager in love.

    Tiempo Muerto by Caroline Hau

  Two women meet on the island where they shared a childhood. One is looking for her mother, the other her yaya. One is an Overseas Filipino Worker, the other an heiress. In an old bahay na bato haunted by scandal and tragedy, secrets and ghosts, the women find their lives entangled and face the challenge of refusing their predetermined fates and embracing their open futures.

    Gideon the Ninth, The Locked Tomb #1 by Tamsyn Muir

  The Emperor needs necromancers.

The Ninth Necromancer needs a swordswoman.

Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead bullshit.

Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth unveils a solar system of swordplay, cut-throat politics, and lesbian necromancers. Her characters leap off the page, as skillfully animated as necromantic skeletons. The result is a heart-pounding epic science fantasy.

Brought up by unfriendly, ossifying nuns, ancient retainers, and countless skeletons, Gideon is ready to abandon a life of servitude and an afterlife as a reanimated corpse. She packs up her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and prepares to launch her daring escape. But her childhood nemesis won’t set her free without a service.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House and bone witch extraordinaire, has been summoned into action. The Emperor has invited the heirs to each of his loyal Houses to a deadly trial of wits and skill. If Harrowhark succeeds she will become an immortal, all-powerful servant of the Resurrection, but no necromancer can ascend without their cavalier. Without Gideon’s sword, Harrow will fail, and the Ninth House will die.

Of course, some things are better left dead.

    Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City by K. J. Parker

  This is the story of Orhan, son of Siyyah Doctus Felix Praeclarissimus, and his history of the Great Siege, written down so that the deeds and sufferings of great men may never be forgotten.

A siege is approaching, and the city has little time to prepare. The people have no food and no weapons, and the enemy has sworn to slaughter them all.

To save the city will take a miracle, but what it has is Orhan. A colonel of engineers, Orhan has far more experience with bridge-building than battles, is a cheat and a liar, and has a serious problem with authority. He is, in other words, perfect for the job.

    Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino

  Trick Mirror is an enlightening, unforgettable trip through the river of self-delusion that surges just beneath the surface of our lives. This is a book about the incentives that shape us, and about how hard it is to see ourselves clearly in a culture that revolves around the self. In each essay, Jia writes about the cultural prisms that have shaped her: the rise of the nightmare social internet; the American scammer as millennial hero; the literary heroine’s journey from brave to blank to bitter; the mandate that everything, including our bodies, should always be getting more efficient and beautiful until we die.

  Thanks for bearing with me. Keep a weather eye for the next post.

[Reading] My 10 favourite books from 2019 Would it be terrible if I kept doing this: popping onto Wordpress once a year, for a week, just to chirp energetically about the things I'd done the previous year, before disappearing into the aether?

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with CATHERINE DALY, who is TWENTY-ONE years old. She is often called CORDELIA by the CAPULETS and works as their SOLDIER. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.

She is perhaps the most beautiful PARADOX the city has ever seen. Blasphemous in her honesty, haughty in her humility, and almost vengeful in her forgiveness, the youngest Daly woman has never known how to be anything but authentic—unapologetically true to herself and to her morals. Women like her, born with the world at their feet and silver spoons in their mouths, have no need for VIRTUE—for righteousness, kindness, integrity; there’s no need to play fair when the game’s already been won. It would’ve been easy—understandable, even—for the littlest daughter of Louis Daly to live her life this way, believing that she was entitled to everything she was given and more. Her older sisters did, and their father loved them in spite of it—blind to the wickedness he’d instilled in them with every unwarranted gift or too pleased with their complacency to care. Catherine would’ve received much the same courtesy, had she wanted it (for none of the Daly girls had an inkling of what the word no meant), but GREED left a sour taste in her mouth, as did ungratefulness, and she’d politely declined. Her impeccable manners and mild temper, a sharp contrast to their arrogance and silver-stained tongues, set her apart from her ravenous older sisters as children, and the divide only grew wider through the years—from as small as the puddles they liked to jump when they were young to the oceans they vowed to one day explore.

Her INTEGRITY has always been her weapon and her shield, her greatest strength and most debilitating weakness; it did her few favors as she aged—for the world saw not a good woman but a weak one—but it gave her the gall to look the world in the eye and smile at its naivety, at its belief that her GENTLENESS wasn’t a choice, but something that had been thrust upon her. The truth of the matter is that she chose it: every day and at every opportunity. Every kind word she uttered became another ring in the elaborate target on her back, and every good deed she did placed a dart in the hands of someone far crueler than her sisters had ever been, but that, she’d learned, was what the real world entailed. She was too stubborn to let it change her, to let it turn her into a woman who found her own cheap success on the backs of others, and those who came to know her couldn’t help but wonder if that was what had saved her—her own brand of viciousness. Her NERVE. It was the only explanation they could find for a flower daring to grow back once it had been stepped on, for a woman the world hadn’t turned cold.

Survival of the fittest preys on those who refuse to prey on others; it was the first lesson she learned upon joining the Capulets, and it’s a lesson she’s been trying to outrun since. Louis Daly had gotten rich off of his association with the mob, and new money swears by the foundation of tradition; thus, he’d humbly implored his three daughters to continue what he’d started, and Catherine had acquiesced—for the sake of saving face, for the family name, for HONOR. But serving Cosimo Capulet and killing for him are two vastly different things, and when push has come to shove, she’s laid down her gun and shoved back. Content to deal with money but averse to spilling any blood, she’s tried to become an emissary for nearly two years, but to no avail; she’s too fair, too willing to compromise, and the lifeblood of the mob is its revenue. Her dilemma is unusual, her persecution strange. It’s nothing short of CRUEL, being forced to choose between defending her family’s honor and adhering to her own code of honor, but she intends to meet the challenge as she does most things: with relentless poise and a ruthless sort of grace. Hands like hers weren’t made for blood sacrifice, and her heart wasn’t built to condone it.

But a war is no place for a half-hearted soldier, and those around her have made it abundantly clear that neutrality is a sin. The only way to win this game is to play dirty, but winning has never been a priority for her. They tell her she can’t have both righteousness and justice, that by dragging her pretty little feet, she’s toeing the line of TREASON, but she and the others have vastly different ideas of what constitutes betrayal, and if refusing to be a mindless soldier in a war that she wants no part of gets her shunned, so be it. She would rather live in dishonor—in exile—than compromise her morals, and it won’t be long before her devotion is put to the test. Centuries ago, they called women like her saints. Now, they call them COWARDS.

GRACE & REGINA DALY: Sisters. “Fair skin and light eyes—must be a Daly.” The only thing she shares with her sisters are their family’s defining features; the similarities end there. They were every bit as spoiled as she growing up, but their spoiling turned them rotten, a consequence their little sister was gracious enough to avoid. They’ve never truly seen eye to eye, and their willingness to cut down those around them to ensure they come out on top both scares and disgusts her, but she loves them anyway, just like their father always has. But loving someone doesn’t equate to letting them do their worst, and she’ll do anything she can to stop them from barreling down the warpath they’ve set themselves on.

EVERETT CRAVE & MAEVE PETRE: Superior & Friend. They’re rarities in a city like this: people who cringe at the sound of a gunshot and don’t rejoice in bloodshed. She harbors a great deal of respect for the older man and has found a kindred spirit in Maeve, and she gravitates toward them for reasons both selfish and considerate. Craven’s status awards him quite a bit of sway in the opinions of those around them, and his subtle acceptance of her defiance serves to mollify her critics; they speak only in whispers when the captain enters the room, and she’s found she likes the quiet, for it makes it easier to think. Maeve is even more adamant than she about peace, and such a fact is as comforting as it is alarming. The one thing Catherine isn’t is naive, but the same can’t be said for her younger companion, and though she’d never admit it for fear of scaring the Petre girl, it worries her. They’re her allies in a war waged within a war: a battle for peace, or at the very least, fighting fair.

THEODORA MOREAU: Mentor. It takes a gifted individual to garner power by their intellect alone in this city, a feat few can accomplish; even fewer can wield that power without the influence of malice, but Theodora Moreau seems to have come close to mastering it. Catherine can’t speak for their personal life, but she’s yet to find any trace of a vendetta in the drugs they make. Waging war without firing a gun is a skill she’d like to learn; serving her family well without robbing another of the chance is an option she’d like to have. She’s tried and failed to become an emissary since she was eighteen, but she didn’t have them for a mentor until now. Regardless of whether her early morning and late night lessons pay off, though, she’s glad to have had the experience: it’s intriguing, and so are they.

BRIELLE KING: Interest. Foreigners are to Verona what flies are to a feast – unwanted and slapped away, a nuisance to a city that seeks to put up walls against the conquests of the world. But that is not an inherent hatred found in the young Daly. She can only imagine the fear and loneliness that must plague Brielle in a city built upon bullets. How terrifying and trying it must be to find refuge in a place where guns are exchanged more often than words. So she reaches out to the woman often, finding comfort and an overwhelming warmth when she thinks about their conversations. How her lips always seem upturned in a smile whenever she walks away. Verona is not a place for friendships with outsiders form, but by God she prays that this will be the exception.

Catherine is portrayed by SAOIRSE RONAN and was written by BREE. She is currently TAKEN by KIERSTEN.

[mermaider00]

For the AU thing... #46 and #86 with Ven’tar and Lotor?

46. Blind Date + 86. I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On 

Ventor featuring Single Dad Zarkon from the Good Reality 

Note: Ven’tar’s planet is called Kompassia and her people are the Plantisects. 

————————————————-

Kompassia was unlike any planet he’d ever been to before. In all his years traveling the universe with his father, Lotor couldn’t help but be impressed by the planet that so stood out among so many wondrous worlds. Daibazaal, though it carried its own unique beauty, was the dry red planet, a desert climate in every region and completely ocean-less. Even Altea, with its lush green and other pleasing hues like a garden, could not compare with Kompassia. There was a place for every climate on Altea; mountains, ocean, country, city, and the cold of the north. 

What greeted a visitor here was a blast of the most majestic rainforest planet an explorer could ever hope to find. 

Prince Lotor was eager to begin working with them. 

“How many are attending?” Lotor asked, eyes scanning the large room. Not out of caution, but interest. There was always so much to look at here on Kompassia. And the scents. No matter how long he sat in one place and no matter how many times he visited the planet, the shock of such potent scents consumed. 

“Only one.” Sitting next to him in the plush booth, Emperor Zarkon stared intently at the crystal glass he held between two large fingers. “The Kompassian leaders have finally selected a representative to aide you. This is just an introductory meeting, so everyone knows who is who. This crystal is simply beautiful.” 

Everything inside one of Kompassia’s finest restaurants was beautiful. Built right over the shores of their grandest ocean outside the capital, the Galra royal family had been invited to dinner to continue their negotiations for quintessence mining, a task that would benefit both the Empire and the local population. The room was large and dimly lit with chandeliers that pulsed with golden light, the atmosphere cool and calm as other Kompassian elite dined with their guests while enjoying the elegant music fit for a high class dinner. On one of the private raised platforms reserved only for special occasions and esteemed guests of honor, the Galra Emperor and his heir sat alone in a booth, waiting for the planet’s representative to arrive and join them. Zarkon had suggested they turn up early so they could enjoy a varga alone before the work began. 

Of course there were whispers among the diners and of course there were curious eyes that wandered their way to get a good look at the Emperor and his son the Prince. But royalty were used to such things. 

Lotor looked over at his father. He knew exactly what his old man was thinking from the eyes alone. “A weapon forged from such material will shatter instantly upon any impact.” 

“Yes, I know,” Zarkon replied blandly, ignoring his son’s playful grin. There was wine inside the glass, but it was forgotten momentarily. “I was thinking this crystal, if used creatively, would make an impressive engagement dagger.” 

“Oh?” Lotor’s eyes wandered away, found the musicians as they played on the level below. The music was soft and soothing. “Are you getting engaged any time soon?” 

“Not me. I’ve had my time and my love.” Never again, Zarkon thought but didn’t voice, especially around his son. His marriage may have been short-lived, so short that Lotor had never known Honerva, but Zarkon still felt so strongly for her that he couldn’t find room in his heart for another. His wife had given him Lotor, and his boy had always been enough. “I was thinking more for you.” 

“Well I am certainly not getting engaged any time soon.” 

“Look at this place, Lotor,” Zarkon continued, gesturing all around them with the glass, eyes focusing on the rushing waves of the gleaming moonlit ocean outside the grand floor to ceiling windows. “This is probably the most beautiful damn planet I’ve ever seen. Look at this glass again. They make glass this lovely. If there is an ideal place to fall in love with an even lovelier woman, it is here.” 

Lotor didn’t have to hide a sigh. “Father, I can’t have this conversation again. I’m here to work with the planet, not fool around.” 

“And interplanetary relations are very important,” Zarkon agreed, lifting his other arm and setting it over the seat behind Lotor. Kompassians were a slender people, and his thicker frame was a little cooped up, even in an expensive booth. “But you’re no longer dividing your time between your duties and your lessons with Alfor. You can dive into this project of yours completely. And,” he added with a smirk as he glanced down at his son, “that is exactly how I met your mother.” 

“Ancients help me,” Lotor muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Alfor brought a brilliant Altean to Daibazaal with the intent of scientific exploration, but those plans shifted a bit the very moment I set eyes on her. I would not have you if I had not been so open-minded.” 

Lotor tossed him a look with a raised white brow. “You imprinted on her, I would hardly call that being the pillar of open-mindedness.” 

He narrowed his eyes, though it was meant to be playful. “Don’t sass your father.” 

Lotor couldn’t help but grin as he looked away. 

Zarkon’s face fell a bit as he stared at Lotor, at the sharp angles of his face, the white of his long hair, the distinct Altean features like the marks they all knew were now under his blue eyes with the help of Alfor’s alchemy teachings. He saw Honerva in him in every moment, even more so now as his boy grew older with a great thirst for knowledge. Lotor was a miracle, Zarkon thought, a fact he remembered every single day since a crying purple infant was placed into his hands, and his alliance with Altea was sealed forever. He’d been given a miracle, though he hadn’t deserved it. 

Shouldn’t everyone have the chance to see a miracle? The people of Kompassia were next to find out. 

“You are the best of two worlds, Lotor,” Zarkon told him, his longing for a wife he hadn’t seen in countless deca-phoebs mingling with the great pride he felt when looking at his boy. It was an overwhelming emotion, no matter how old his son became. “You very well might make something here that is the best of three.” 

There were times, especially as a boy, when Lotor had mourned not having a mother, especially one as brilliant as Honerva. It had been hardest during his training on Altea, the home of her blood, when amazing women like Queen Melenor would scoop Allura up in a way only a mother really could. But becoming a man gave a new perspective on just about everything. His father had raised him himself, never remarried, and led the Empire while also somehow never neglecting Lotor since infancy. 

You are the best of two worlds. Zarkon had constantly told him that for as long as he could remember. 

One great father was enough for him. 

“Well,” Zarkon said suddenly, tossing back the rest of the wine. “I will see you back on the ship.” 

Confused, Lotor asked, “You aren’t staying?” 

“This is your endeavor, son, as is all the glory that will follow. You’re the one with all of the plans and the representative is the one with planetary knowledge. I have nothing to add. Pay for the dinner,” he told Lotor, pulling him close and shamelessly purring against his son’s hair as an affectionate goodbye. 

“Father, you don’t know the area,” Lotor commented as Zarkon shoved himself out of the slender booth. “Allow me to have someone escort you.”  

“I can find my own way, boy, now look alive. Your partner is here.” 

As the Emperor walked away, Lotor immediately found the elaborate entrance doors, closing behind a body scurrying inside in a long cape and hood. Right before they shut, he noticed that rains had come, a harmless storm brewing over the ocean. He watched as the staff attempted to help his guest dry off, but their hands were only lightly brushed off. A young man was given the job of guide, leading the way straight to him. Lotor stood and nodded politely as the two bowed before the servant flittered away, leaving them alone. 

“My sincerest apologies, your highness.” 

A female, Lotor discovered from the sound of her voice. He smiled as she reached for her hood. He preferred working with women, their minds were so unique and logical, they made sense to him. Already he knew this mission would succeed. 

When the hood was removed and her face unveiled, she gave him a dazzling smile.  

The music must’ve suddenly stopped, the chatter around them too. It was now quiet, so quiet he couldn’t even hear the sound of his own breathing. In the silence, he stared at her, at the lovely green of her, the red of her eyes, the interesting marks on her face, each and every little droplet of rain sliding down her skin. Her clothes were wet, sticking to her body and outlining a slender frame, a tall one too. Tall and willowy and wet and… 

Lotor swallowed, and finally blinked when his eyes went dry from staring at her. No longer deafeningly silent. All he could hear now was the loud and hard beat of his heart in his chest. 

“My name is Ven’tar,” she said to him, her voice sounding just like the soothing breezes of her glorious planet. “It is an honor to work alongside you and the Empire. I’m sure we will do great things together.” 

She held out her hand. Lotor forced his own to gently take the middle of her forearm in greeting. When they disconnected, she went about removing her damp cape, draping it over the back of her chair. A servant rushed forward to pull it out for her. She clicked to him in thanks, the language of her people, as she sank gracefully into her seat across from him. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Ven’tar,” he said to her softly. 

The sounds of the world returned to him, though his eyes remained on her as he sat too. She looked like Kompassia itself. All the majesty and grace and all the lovely wonders coming together to create such a lovely being. His father had just said to him he thought this place was the most beautiful planet he’d ever seen. 

Lotor absolutely agreed as she tossed him another smile. 

“Now,” Ven’tar began, her eyes never straying from his, a hand running down her cheek to wipe away any more rain on her skin. The water bended to her will, lingering on the tips of her fingers. “Shall I tell you more about Kompassia?” 

Anything to hear her talk. Anything to learn more about her. Ven’tar. 

“Please,” he said softly, and heard nothing but the sound of her voice. 

From below, near the entrance to the kitchens, Zarkon peeked around the corner, a big grin across his face. He could see the two, he could see the look on his son’s face. She’d collided right into his boy, just as Honerva had before Lotor had been born. Of course Zarkon knew exactly who Lotor would be meeting with tonight. Ven’tar was an amazing woman, a strong and powerful one. She was perfect. 

The best of three worlds. 

“Excuse me, sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t… Emperor Zarkon.” 

Zarkon spun around, locked eyes with a servant and watched as the man instantly fell into a bow. 

“I apologize, my Lord,” the servant sputtered, wringing his hands together. “This area is… for staff only. You could get hurt. This door is constantly opening and closing.” 

He wouldn’t cause trouble, not here, not when it was Lotor’s night to begin his mission. Maybe even a greater mission that would take them far into the future if his hunch was right about his son and the Lady. So as not to give the young man heart failure, Zarkon kept his voice cool and calm as he pointed up to Lotor’s table. 

“That is my son up there,” he mentioned. 

The servant only blinked. “Yes, sir, I know. Would you like me to bring the Prince anything?” 

“He is meeting with a woman. A representative to your planet. They’re having dinner. Alone. Privately. Just the two of them.” 

Only more blinking in the ticks that passed on by. Finally a light went off, and the servant gave a nod and a slight grin. “I see. I understand. If you’d like, I can escort you to one of the offices above. It gives a view of the entire restaurant. I can bring you another glass of wine, as well.” 

He just wanted to watch for a little while, to make sure Lotor would be safe and sound. Of course he would, but it was a parent’s never-ending job, his duty as a father. History was being made tonight, and Zarkon wanted to witness it right at its conception. 

“That would be fine,” he told the servant. 

[sebeth]

Young Justice: Denial, Cold Case, Hot Case

Episode 7: “Denial”

July 27th: Kent Nelson enters the parlor of Madame Xanadu. Madame offers to make contact with Kent’s deceased wife, Inza, if “fate be so kind”.

Kent responds: “But he so rarely is.”

Kent laughs at Xanadu’s attempt to contact his wife: “That was supposed to be my wife? Heck, my little spitfire would have kicked my can for throwing away good money on you.”

Kent criticizes Madame Xanadu for her fakery: “A shame, too.  You have the perfect aura for the work.”

An interesting choice on the writers’ parts to make Madame Xanadu a charlatan.  She would be tied with Dream Girl as the most famous pre-cog in the DC Universe.  They did allow themselves room to re-introduce her as a genuine pre-cog with the “you have the perfect aura for the work” comment.

Kent is kidnapped from the parlor.

We return to the comic book series for the 9th and 10th issue, “Cold Case” and “Hot Case”, a spotlight on the origin of Captain Atom.

August 13:

School is in session for the team as Captain Atom gives a lecture on subterfuge and infiltration. Kaldur is the only member actively taking notes.  Robin’s rolling his eyes, Superboy’s yawning and stretching, Wally’s stuffing his face, and the girls are polite in their expressions of boredom.

The team’s reactions ring true.  Conner and Wally are self-aware enough to realize subterfuge will never be one of their strengths.  Dick’s heard the same lecture a million times from the Batman. Kaldur is serious and a former military man – he knows the value of training and intel.  M’gann is most likely thinking to herself “telepathing, shape-shifting, can turn invisible Martian here – we wrote the book on subterfuge”, and Artemis is wondering why she signed up for the team if it involves more schoolwork.

Captain Atom, a man encased in shiny metal, may seem like an odd choice for a lecture on subterfuge and infiltration, until you realize his pre-hero background in military intelligence.

Atom stops his lecture: “This is boring, isn’t it?”

Megan attempts to reassure the Captain but the always blunt Conner interrupts with “Yeah, boring”.

Captain Atom proposes a field exercise: “This is a cold case. Vietnam era. Captain Nathaniel Adams, United States Air Force. Convicted in 1968 of murdering Air Force General Clement Lemar. Adams died in prison. But I’ve received a reliable tip he was framed. Your assignment: investigate. Prove Adams’ innocence or reconfirm his guilt and report back to me.”

Conner interjects: “Really? You need super-powered operatives for this?”

Atom offers to resume the lecture but the team decides on the field exercise.

The team doesn’t realize it but Captain Atom has revealed his secret identity and part of his origin story.  Nathaniel Adam was part of a secret experiment that transformed him into Captain Atom and catapulted him decades into the future.  The frame-up/died in prison was used as a way to explain Nathanial’s presumed death.

DC Comics purchased several comic book publishers during the 1970s and 1980s.  The most famous companies were Fawcett, Charlatan, and Quality. The purchases caused DC cast of characters to rapidly expand.  Notable characters from the purchases included the Captain Marvel Family, Plastic Man, Blue Beetle, the Blackhawks, the Question, and many others.

DC assigned the various companies’ characters their own earths in the multiverse: Earth-F, etc. Their villains, supporting characters, and continuing adventures each happened on their own earth.  The new to the DC Universe characters would occasionally interact with the mainstream DC earth.

DC decided the DC multiverse had become too complex by the mid-1980s.  I’m not sure why as I was between 6 to 8 years old during this time and I had no trouble following along with the various worlds. Sorry, reboots make me bitter.  We lose more than we gain in every time.  Any characters created in the reboots – Tim, Conner, Bart, Kyle – could have still been created without half-assed reboots.

Back on point, DC created the “Crisis On Infinite Earths”. Despite my dislike of reboots, “Crisis” is an excellent story and a must read for any DC fan.  Great writing, gorgeous art, and fabulous character moments.  

Post-Crisis, there was only one earth.  Captain Atom was re-launched into his own solo title.  He had notable romances with Nightshade and Plastique. Atom’s main foe was Major Force whose later actions would later name the “Women in Refrigerators” trope.  Captain Atom also served as the long-suffering leader of Justice League Europe. Atom was the inspiration for the “Doctor Manhattan” character in the Watchmen

Atom’s downfall would be known as “Armageddon”. He was intended to be the villain behind it. The plot reveal was leaked and the writers hastily changed the villain’s identity to Hawk (Hank Hall) – which made less sense than the choice of Captain Atom.

I dislike “hero goes bad” or “villain goes good” stories.  They are rarely done well.  In hero cases, the writers go to extremes – downfall of Hal Jordan, anyone? In villain cases, the bad guy has become popular, so the writers change him into a good guy and ignore the atrocities they’ve committed – I’m looking at you, Harley Quinn. Particularly the Harley in the Injustice universe.

Captain Atom never recovered from the “Armageddon” debacle.  He would make sporadic appearances but nothing too memorable until the “Captain Atom: Armageddon” mini-series that led to the decimation of the Wildstorm universe.

A disguised Megan enters the Pentagon to interview General Wade Eiling, the judge at Nathanial’s court martial. Wade sums up Adams as a “malcontent” who blamed his “victim Lemar for a Viet Cong ambush” and Adams “was caught in the act by an M.P. Sergeant Polk”. Eiling, a Colonel at the time, found Adams guilty and sentenced him to life in prison.  Adams “took his own life before a year was out”.

Robin easedrops from the ceiling.

Wally and Conner pose as journalism students in order to interview a Lieutenant Yarrow at a casino in Las Vegas.  Conner clearly doesn’t care about subterfuge – at all – as he is still wearing the Superboy shirt.  Wally is in his civilian attire.

The dealer reminds the boys “no one under twenty-one” is allowed in the casino.  Conner questions if “under 21” counts “in weeks or months”.

Wally’s excited by the “$4.95 all-you-can-eat buffet”: “My kind of town!”  Buffets are a true blessing for speedsters, their metabolisms, and their budgets.  Not so much for the owners of said buffets.

Lt. Yarrow was Adams’ defense council: “His friend too. Served together in ‘Nam. The only survivors of Hill 409.”

Yarrow continues “Nate worked Air Force Intelligence. He suspected a weapons smuggling ring and confided as much to General Lemar. Lemar claimed to have heard rumors too. Ordered Nate to take a squad to Hill 409. It was an ambush. Nate saved my life. The rest of Nate’s men weren’t so lucky. Nate became convinced Lemar was part of the smuggling ring and had sent us into the ambush. I tried to talk him out of it but Nate insisted on confronting Lemar only to black out moments later. Later, Nate would insist he had been drugged. And I believed him. Cuz there’s no way the Nathianel Adams I knew would murder a man in cold blood!”

“I took on Nate’s defense but the prosecutor Lieutenant Kevin Blankly proved Nate’s service knife was the murder weapon.  And the medical examiner, Major Shirley Mason testified there were no drugs in Nate’s system. So the judge found Nate guilty and sentenced him to life in prison. And that’s where Nate died. But get this…that judge, Colonel Wade Eiling, he married Nate’s widow and raised Nate’s two kids as his own!”

Wade Eiling would be a thorn in Nathaniel’s side throughout the Captain Atom series.  Wade didn’t transform into a full-fledged villain until the Morrison Era JLA where he merged with the Shaggy Man and ran amuck as the “General”.

Robin decides the next step is to interview Shirley Mason. Dick and Megan arrive at the Arlington home of Mason only to discover her corpse.

Dick notes: “She’s got something in her hand. I don’t want to disturb the crime scene, but we need to see what it is.”

Trained protégé of Batman speaking!

Megan levitates the corpse so Robin can view the picture in Mason’s hand. The photo is a group shot of military personnel.

Kaldur and Artemis meet with Nathaniel’s children in Honolulu.

Peggy firmly believes in her father’s innocence, as did her mother, but Randy does not: “Wade Eiling is our father. He raised us. Adams gave up any parental rights the day he betrayed our country and murdered his superior officer.”

It should be noted Randy has joined a military branch – possibly the Air Force.

Peggy was born after her father’s death so she must have learned her firm belief in her father’s innocence from her mother.

Angela Adams, Nathaniel’s wife, firmly believed in Nathaniel’s innocence but went on to marry the man that sentenced him to prison? Weird.

Artemis doesn’t empathize with Peggy’s belief in her father: “Biology hardly guarantees parental skills or even basic honesty.”

Kaldur tells Artemis of his parents: “My mother, Sha’lain’a, is a native of the Atlantean city-state of Shayeris. Her skin is nearly as golden as her hair and her gills are quite large and gorgeous. My father, Calvin Durham, is a surface-worlder like you, genetically altered by Black Manta to infiltrate Atlantis as a water-breather.”

“Your dad works for Black Manta?”

“He did. But his love for my mother caused him to switch sides.”

Kaldur doesn’t realize it but there are a few important details he hasn’t been told about his parents’ romance.

If you only watched the cartoon and never read the comic books, you missed the foreshadowing that justified Kaldur’s villainous role in season two.

Dick, Megan, Wally, and Conner are in Annapolis.

Dick has identified the people in the photo.

Megan has a question: “I know my grasp of Earth history is largely based on Earth sitcoms but why would a North Vietnamese General be in a 1968 photograph with U.S. personnel?”

Someone needs to hand Megan some history books!

The group is outside General Tang’s mansion. Conner realizes another man is in the mansion and he is carrying a sword.

Conner and Wally are ready to rush in but Dick holds the duo back: “This is a covert op. We keep to the shadows. We don’t take the offensive. Like in Captain Atom’s lecture.”

Wally is shocked that Dick was actually listening to the lecture.

An invisible Megan enters the home.

Trang converses with the man: “I know why you are here. I still have my sources. I know about Mason, and I know your work. But I am disappointed, Rako. I have protected you since you were a child. Have you no loyalty?”

Rako goes for the kill but is stopped by Megan.

Conner storms in and is shocked when Rako’s sword cuts him: “I’m…I’m bleeding?”

The group battle Rako but are unable to prevent Trang’s murder. Rako escapes in the confusion.

August 14, Metropolis: The reunited team meet in a Metropolis diner.

Superboy is still shocked over his wound but insists “It’s a scratch. I’m fine. Move on.”

Facial recognition software has identified the individuals in the photograph:

1)      Lt. Kevin Blankly, USAF

2)      Lt. Henry Yarrow, USAF

3)      Alec Rois, CIA

4)      General Clement Lemar, USAF

5)      Major Shirley Mason, USAF

6)      General Duk Trang, NVA

7)      Sgt. Ends Polk, USAF

8)      Unknown child

The group theorizes the “unknown child” is Rako and that’s he been sent to tie up the “loose ends” in the Adams case.

Kaldur divides the team in half – Dick, Conner, and Wally will head to Las Vegas to protect Yarrow while the rest remain in Metropolis to investigate Polk.

The trio arrive in Las Vegas only to witness Yarrow’s house explode. Yarrow was killed in the explosion. The boys identify Yarrow by a tattoo on his arm.

The team reunites in St. George to confront the trio behind the recent deaths: Rois, Rako, and a not dead Henry Yarrow. The team quickly captures the trio. Yarrow dies – for real this time – in the fight.

The team returns to Mount Justice to report their findings: The accusations and resulting frame-up of Admas was to cover a weapons smuggling ring. Wade Eiling was the only one involved in the trial who wasn’t a member of the smuggling ring.

Kaldur and Artemis fly to Honolulu to inform the Adams kids of their father’s innocence.

Nathan and Wade mend fences over their preconceived notions of the other’s guilt. Wade informs Nathan: “Let me reintroduce you to your kids”.

The issue ends with Rois and Rako escaping from prison and meeting up with Wade. Turns out, Wade was in charge of the entire smuggling ring. He wasn’t in the picture because he took the picture!

Wade: “Captain Atom is my new best friend. Which should serve us well in the days ahead.”

An intriguing plotline that never received any follow up.

We return to “Denial”:

August 19th: The team participates in combat training.  More to the point, Kaldur and a shirtless Conner spar.  Artemis tries to persuade M’gann to ask Kaldur out.  Good Luck, Artemis, Megan has her obsession locked in and she is not veering from the course.

Megan attempts to veer Artemis towards Wally: “You’re so full of passion, and he’s so full of..”

Artemis interjects with “It?”

I enjoy the competition between the girls over Conner and mostly for the fact that the ladies don’t let it interfere with their friendship.  

Why is Conner shirtless? Is he showing off for the ladies? Kaldur kept his shirt on!

Poor Dick, as the youngest, is left out of the hormone competition.  Don’t worry, Dick, you will grow up to become DC’s premier knockout.

Conner wins the round: “Black Canary taught me that.” Conner must be taking his training seriously as Kaldur would be one of the more experienced members in hand-to-hand combat due to his Atlantean military background.

Red Tornado enters. Wally wants a mission assignment. He mentions that Robin and Batman are in Gotham City doing the “Dynamic Duo thing”.

We’ll put “Denial” on pause as the next two issues of the Young Justice comic start at this point.

Up next: Batman, Robin, Ras’s al Ghul, Clayface and the most multi-faceted portrayal of Talia ever!

[god-of-mischief]

Loki fic idea

I want a fic set during Thor 1 where Lady Sif and the Warriors 3 manage to bring Thor back to Asgard before Loki could use the Destoyer to kill Thor/get his powers back and without Loki killing Laufey and destroying Jotunheim so that an Asgardian Civil War breaks out for the throne. HCs below the cut:

Thor has no real reason to outright attack Loki on sight when he gets home but he does get angry that Loki lied to him (although in the AU Loki could just tell the truth and say that Odin was in the Odinsleep and may never awaken but that Thor still couldn't come home)

However, since Thor hasn't become worthy, he's still somewhat of an arrogant asshole and wants the throne even though he is still mortal

Loki, of course, refuses because Thor is 1) mortal, 2) arrogant, and 3) bloodthirsty. None of which they need when at war with Jotunheim -- a war which Thor started

This rivalry over the throne at a time of war of course raises tensions and people take sides

The younger warriors who trained with Thor, including Sif and the Warriors 3, and grew up hating the Jotunns and wanting to kill them will of course support Thor. I also think the nobles will support him as well because he's terrible at politics and therefore easy to manipulate while Loki is not.

I have a lot of elaborate headcanons for Loki that I want to fit in here. So:

There is a royal spy/assassin ring that only takes orders from the crown and Loki has been training with them for centuries, one of the reasons he doesn't train with the normal warriors. Their sneaky and subtle fighting style suits Loki perfectly, and they encourage magic because they aren't stupid and bigoted. This organization is very secretive and only the highest ranking people know about it. Thor doesn't know because Odin couldn't trust him yet to keep it a secret. Odin would've handled them during the first few years when Thor would have been king until he was ready. Loki, however, was picked out by their leader when he was young cause he saw Loki's potential in sneaky combat and magic. In fact, he was so good that he was promoted to be the leader/captain/whatever after several centuries. Thor and the Warriors 4 have no idea. The spies/assassins definitely take Loki's side with the throne debate.

The Valkyries did not totally die out. They were still mostly killed by Hela and Brunnhilde did escape to Sakaar but there must have been some retired/old Valkyries back in Asgard. So they decided to rebuild the order and by Loki's time, they were back to their formal glory. Because of their elite warrior status and sneaky fighting styles (as seen by Brunnhilde and her knives) they work closely with the spy/assassin ring. Since Loki is genderfluid, I also see her training with the Valkyries and the tattoo only shows on her female form. This is not quite as big a secret but it's not talked about much. Thor and the Warriors know but they don't really make the connection that Loki is an elite warrior of Asgard. The Valkyries definitely take Loki's side.

I see Loki as hating the greedy and power-hungry aristocrats and preferring the common people of Asgard. While Thor is the warrior prince, Loki is the prince of the people. There are a lot of headcanons about Loki going to schools and orphanages and such. I also see him advocating for greater representation for the people and for equal rights for women and male sorcerers since he is also a minority. Loki also helps repair the damage in the taverns where Thor and the Warriors visit. So the common people definitely support Loki. This is interesting cause while they outnumber everyone else, they don't have as much power. However, the blacksmiths are in charge of supplying weapons and armor so they can make a difference.

The magicians guild also supports Loki. Thor has constantly belittled magic, along with his supporters, and they do not like that. They would love to have a king that understands and supports them.

The older generation of warriors who fought in Jotunheim, maybe or maybe not including General Tyr, would probably support Loki since they have actually experienced war and do not want to experience war again. Thor being king would certainly lead to war while Loki has a greater chance of solving it peacefully, or of using his strategic intelligence to minimize loss of life and end the war quickly instead of Thor's strategy of run in and start killing.

There would also be the debate in some people whether they are loyal to the throne no matter who sits on it or whether they are more loyal to one of the brothers (*cough* Heimdall *cough*) But I think that Heimdall would chose to support Thor based on his actions in the movie.

Frigga, of course, is heartbroken and knows that she could end this and take the throne but she can't leave Odin's side because her magic and her connection to Odin are the only things keeping him from dying in the sleep (insert fancy wording for soul becoming lost). She debates with herself because she needs to stay in order to try and get Odin to wake up faster and end this but if he doesn't wake then she may have to let him die in order to end the fighting. She personally doesn't think Thor is ready for the throne, especially with him being stupid enough to demand it while mortal and disowned, but she doesn't let the public, or either of her sons, know this.

Another debate within some of Thor's followers is that while they really want to support him, he is mortal and therefore weak. But some of them just say the hell with it, he's Thor, he's invincible even when mortal.

Loki, of course, is still internally freaking out because of his revealed heritage. He is having an internal debate where he knows that for the good of Asgard, Thor can't have the throne but a Frost Giant shouldn't be king cause they are monsters. All of his "friends" have deserted him for Thor, which further hurts them because while he knew they favored Thor, he had still thought of them as his friends. He is hurt the most by Thor though because of his brother's lack of faith in his ability to rule.

Thor views Loki as trying to take away his glory and his birthright. He doesn't think of Loki as a warrior and therefore shouldn't be king while at war. He still loves his brother, but their relationship is going to be permanently soured by this.

During this time, Jotunheim has been preparing for war. They have probably received rumors somehow of the chaos in Asgard (shape shifting Jotunn spies???) and are waiting for the fighting to begin and end so that they can attack when Asgard is at it's weakest. Laufey also really wants to kill Thor while he is mortal, possibly sending shape shifting assassins after him.

Loki's spy ring received word of this so he assigns some of them to secretly protect Thor even though they are fighting cause he doesn't want his brother to die.

I'm not sure if I want the fighting to actually begin and end with a Victor, begin but be stopped by an awakened Odin in the middle of fighting, or be stopped by Odin right before the fighting could start.

If they do fight, the Warriors 4 will have a very hard time convincing Thor not to join in cause he is mortal. He is not happy about this. Because of this, he is unable to direct them when they fight Loki, cause of course they go after him.

They still see Loki as a traitor and an usurper so they try to kill him. While Loki has the magical and assassin combat skills to fight them, it's hard cause it's 4:1, he's still hurting over their betrayal, he knows Thor will never forgive him, and despite their betrayal they were his friends and he doesn't actually want to kill them. So yeah it's a tough fight. I want Loki to win and have them locked up in the dungeon, but also for him to be seriously hurt and trying to hide it from everyone and trying to stay strong.

Thor is very surprised that Loki didn't kill them. In his mind, he made Loki the enemy and so mainly remembers his worst qualities and his animosity with the Warriors 4. Loki's mercy helps reverse that somewhat.

For the fighting, the assassins kidnap the leaders of the resisting warriors to weaken the command structure, but not Thor for plot reasons. The common people refuse to supply Thor's men with weapons/armor/food so they are weakened. The Valkyries as elite warriors can take down the Einherjar easily but they really don't want to destroy the entirety of Asgard's military so they do their best to knock them out and take them as prisoners of war but, of course, there are casualties.

There's a big final battle between what's left of Thor's forces and the Valkyrior, the assassins, the older warriors, and the town's people who took up arms. Loki's troops outnumber Thor's and he wins. When Thor and Loki finally face each other after all this time, I imagine Thor as angry and betrayed while Loki is sad, disappointed and betrayed (and scared cause once Thor learns he's a Frost Giant and gets his powers back he is dead -- "I'll hunt down the monsters and slay them all").

At this moment, Odin wakes and he and Frigga interrupt Thor's shouting match at Loki while two Valkyries hold him down. Odin is pissed. At Thor for defying his orders and starting a civil war, and at Loki for not being able to resolve it peacefully (Loki can never be perfect in Odin's eyes). However, he is far more pissed at Thor.

Loki at this point collapses from previously mentioned serious injury and Thor turns back into worried, but still pissed, older brother.

The rest of Thor's troops, including Heimdall, are put in the dungeons to be dealt with later. Thor is put under house arrest and cannot leave his room due to a magical barrier put up by Frigga, who is also pissed at Thor.

Loki almost dies, but does recover. While he does so, Odin and Frigga actually sit down and talk with Thor about his unacceptable behavior. He is on his way to learning his lesson, but not there quite yet. In this conversation he is also told of Loki's heritage. Thor is horrified, but not because his brother is a Frost Giant (although he does have some issues with that, centuries of racism don't disappear in one night) but because of the lies that have been told to Loki his whole life and the fact that he was dealing with this on his own while also having to fight his brother in a civil war.

When Loki wakes up, there is a long conversation with him, Odin, and Frigga about his heritage and his place in the family. Cue mental breakdown from all the stress and self-hatred. Odin realizes what a terrible father he has been and vows to fix it.

Laufey is pissed because he missed his shot due to Odin waking and the Asgardian spies subtly ruining his plans in hilarious ways behind the scenes. Throw some humor in there to relive the angst. Odin sends a diplomatic party down there to end the war peacefully. As Asgard can't afford a war right now, they have to give up the Casket. However, they did secretly enchant it so it can't be used as a weapon (insert complicated spell here).

When Loki is well enough, he and Thor have a much needed conversation that is very emotional. Loki wanted to avoid this as long as possible but Frigga basically dragged him by the ear. It is very emotional, and Thor has had some revelations about his dismissive behavior towards Loki while he was healing so he is not pissed anymore. Loki is super frickin nervous about his heritage reveal, and while Thor is uncomfortable with it, he still accepts his brother. So they make up, but there still is an underlying tension that may never go away.

After this, Thor is sent back to Earth to finish learning his lesson, where SHIELD is all over him cause they realize he's an alien. They tell him how they protect the earth so he decides to join them. He then works with Steve Rogers a lot on missions and meets Tony Stark. Hilarious drinking competitions and contests to see who can get a date the fastest at bar begin. Thor wins. Always.

On Earth, Thor learns about racism, sexism, and homophobia which are all problems in Asgard. He learns how to accept those who are different and how to implement reform in Asgard. The moment when he accepts this is when he becomes worthy and gains his powers back.

During his time on Earth before he gained his powers back, Loki had been visiting frequently and so has introduced himself to SHIELD and the members of the not-yet-formed Avengers. They appreciate his talent for strategy and subtlety, especially his magic abilities. Let's just say Loki loves Midgardians. He loves pranking them even more though.

When Thor is welcomed back to Asgard the heir issue is brought up again. To immediately make Thor the heir again would be very insulting to Loki, plus Thor still isn't ready to be king since he probably didn't pay attention in his politics class and doesn't know much about being a king besides starting wars.

So Loki remains the heir, but since he much prefers leading the spy ring to being king, he makes a deal with Odin that he will help Thor learn politics so that several decades/centuries in the future Loki will publicly hand over the title of heir to Thor so that he will be king.

Heimdall is relieved of his post and his powers (which I headcanon to come from the Soul Stone which has yet to be revealed) are transferred to either one of the Valkyries or one of the spies. Heimdall is executed for treason (seriously he committed it like 3 times: he allowed them to go to Jotunheim and start a war, he allowed the Warriors 4 to retrieve Thor, and he joined a coup to try and overthrow Loki). The Warriors 4 should have been executed as they committed treason just as much, but they didn't have positions as important as Heimdall's and they were following their prince the first time. Also, Thor and Loki advocated for them (further surprising the Warriors 4 and making them feel guilty for hating him). However, they are dismissed from military service with dishonorable discharge and banished from Asgard. (Meaning they live when Asgard is destroyed by Hela in the future)

There are too many warriors who supported Thor to be banished or executed so they are freed but are put on heavy probation, heavily fined, and are on house arrest indefinitely which is enforced by magic.

After a few months of Thor being back in Asgard, Amora or Lorelei (or some Asgardian somewhat villain that the princes used to know) appears on Earth with the scepter in place of Loki in the Avengers. Thor and Loki both go down to Earth and join the Avengers and take her down.

Cue the rest of the Marvel series but tweaking Loki's role a bit so it works out with the AU.

The end. This was a lot longer than I originally thought. I would write this, but I don't have time so if anybody does want to write this, please tag me.

[newstfionline]

Friday, April 30, 2021

Satellites show world’s glaciers melting faster than ever (AP) Glaciers are melting faster, losing 31% more snow and ice per year than they did 15 years earlier, according to three-dimensional satellite measurements of all the world’s mountain glaciers. Using 20 years of recently declassified satellite data, scientists calculated that the world’s 220,000 mountain glaciers are losing more than 328 billion tons (298 billion metric tons) of ice and snow per year since 2015, according to a study in Wednesday’s journal Nature. That’s enough melt flowing into the world’s rising oceans to put Switzerland under almost 24 feet (7.2 meters) of water each year. Almost all the world’s glaciers are melting, even ones in Tibet that used to be stable, the study found. Except for a few in Iceland and Scandinavia that are fed by increased precipitation, the melt rates are accelerating around the world.

Biden Seeks Shift in How the Nation Serves Its People (NYT) President Biden laid out an ambitious agenda on Wednesday night to rewrite the American social compact by vastly expanding family leave, child care, health care, preschool and college education for millions of people to be financed with increased taxes on the wealthiest earners. Invoking the legacy of Franklin D. Roosevelt, Mr. Biden unveiled a $1.8 trillion social spending plan to accompany previous proposals to build roads and bridges, expand other social programs and combat climate change, representing a fundamental reorientation of the role of government not seen since the days of Lyndon B. Johnson’s Great Society and Roosevelt’s New Deal. Taken together, the collection of initiatives that Mr. Biden has introduced in his first 100 days in office suggest a breathtaking scope of change. But the succession of costly proposals amounts to a risky gamble that a country deeply polarized along ideological and cultural lines is ready for a more activist government and the sort of redistribution of wealth long sought by progressives. Mr. Biden’s Democrats have only the barest of majorities in the House and Senate to push through the most sweeping of legislation and, successful or not, he may have framed the terms of the debate for the next election.

Bioware (The Guardian) The Florida Keys Mosquito Control District and a company named Oxitec announced they will release 12,000 invasive Aedes aegypti mosquitoes each week for 12 weeks from six different locations on the Keys. The plan, which sounds like a Bond villain scheme while authorities insist it is definitely not, is a complicated biological counteroffensive against a bug responsible for spreading dengue, Zika and yellow fever. The mosquitos being released have been specially treated and are all male. When the genetically modified bugs mate with the wild local female mosquitoes, all the subsequent female offspring will be unable to reproduce, controlling the population of the worst pest on the planet. The Aedes aegypti in the Keys make up about 4 percent of the mosquito population, but are responsible for effectively all mosquito-borne disease.

EU Signs The Divorce Papers (NYT) The nearly five-year-long Brexit process has finally come to an exhausted end with a formal vote by the European Parliament (EP) to accept the part of the deal governing trade and customs issues and providing for zero tariffs and zero quotas. While the outcome was never seriously doubted, a ‘no’ vote by the EP would have killed the deal, which neither side wanted. Even so, the EP expressed considerable concerns about the trustworthiness of the current British government to carry out its side of the bargain. That includes the just approved trade deal, which still leaves out key issues like financial services and foreign and security policy. Brits voted to leave the EU in June 2016 after a campaign filled with exaggerations on both sides. Since then the struggle over how to define Brexit and Britain’s future relationship with the EU destroyed both prime ministerships of David Cameron and Theresa May. Boris Johnson is now running the show, and he’s had his own painful entanglements with the thorny issue of the border between Northern Ireland, a part of Britain, and the Republic of Ireland, a member of the EU.

Want a Peek at Post-Covid Life? Check Out Gibraltar (WSJ) On this strip of densely populated rock jutting into the Mediterranean Sea, people are tasting freedom. Gibraltar, population 34,000, has fully vaccinated around 85% of adults, its government says, and 98% of adults over 60. Gibraltar has been free of Covid-19 cases in its resident population since April 8. Gibraltar, twice Central Park’s size and dominated by a mountain known as The Rock, has embarked on “Operation Freedom,” a plan to fully reopen society while monitoring virus cases. With pandemic restrictions all but gone, its narrow streets and cafe-lined squares are showing life. On a recent evening, pedestrians walked arm-in-arm. Pubs and cafes were bustling with maskless patrons drinking and sharing bowls of bar snacks. “You are seeing people greet each other in the street, shaking hands, hugging for the first time in months,” says one resident, 61. “People are smiling.”

Bulgaria alleges Russian links to arms depot blasts, widening European probes into Moscow agents (Washington Post) Bulgarian prosecutors said Wednesday that they are looking at whether four explosions at weapons depots over the past decade are part of a Russian effort to disrupt the flow of arms from Eastern Europe to battlefields in Ukraine and Georgia. The investigations into the explosions, which took place between 2011 and 2020, are part of wider probes in Europe linked to suspected Russian military intelligence agents. Bulgaria’s announcement followed claims by Czech authorities last week that they suspect two agents from Unit 29155 in Russia’s GRU intelligence agency were linked to blasts at an arms warehouse in the Czech Republic in 2014. In Ukraine, government forces have been battling pro-Moscow separatists since 2014, after Russia’s annexation of Crimea.

Young women, grown up without Taliban, dread their return (AP) Inside Ms. Sadat’s Beauty Salon in Afghanistan’s capital, Sultana Karimi leans intently over a customer, meticulously shaping her eyebrows. Make-up and hair styling is the 24-year-old’s passion, and she discovered it, along with a newfound confidence, here in the salon. She and the other young women working or apprenticing in the salon never experienced the rule of the Taliban over Afghanistan. But they all worry that their dreams will come to an end if the hard-line militants regain any power, even if peacefully as part of a new government. The Taliban banned beauty salons, part of a notoriously harsh ideology that often hit women and girls the hardest, including forbidding them education and the right to work or even to travel outside their home unaccompanied by a male relative. With U.S. troops committed to leaving Afghanistan completely by Sept. 11, women are closely watching the stalemated peace negotiations between the Taliban and the Afghan government over the post-withdrawal future, said Mahbouba Seraj, a women’s rights activist.

U.S. aid en route to India as new cases continue to break records (Washington Post) U.S. flights carrying urgent coronavirus aid for India were en route Thursday, the White House said in a statement, as health officials reported another record number of new cases across the country. The U.S. government will deliver more than $100 million worth of supplies for overstretched hospitals and front-line health-care workers in India, according to the White House. The State Department is urging U.S. citizens to leave India “as soon as it is safe to do” and to avoid traveling there, pointing to “severely limited” access to all kinds of medical care.

China’s Baby Bust (Foreign Policy) China is expected to report its first population decline since Mao Zedong’s Great Leap Forward in its latest census, which could spark a crisis moment in a country deeply worried about its aging demographics. After the one-child policy was formally lifted in 2015, the government hoped that a baby boom would follow, but the figures show it hasn’t materialized—because having kids in China is just too expensive. Censuses in communist countries have always been politically sensitive, since they often speak to failed policies or hidden disasters. Chinese officials have already delayed the release of the 2020 data—and it may later be buried, either not released or not covered by the media. China recorded more than 1.4 billion people in 2019, and a fall below that number will bring a significant moment closer: when India, with a population of 1.38 billion, officially becomes the world’s largest country. The population decline fundamentally reflects a simple reality, pandemic aside: Having children in China is expensive and burdensome. For the poor, the stress of separation from children due to labor migration, the difficulty of finding education or health care in big cities, and the impossibility of buying apartments—often a social requirement before marriage—present other obstacles.

China's space station (BBC) China launched the first piece of a new space station into orbit today. The Chinese Space Station will eventually be about a quarter of the size of the International Space Station and will have space to house three astronauts and a slew of low-gravity experiments. Beijing hopes to squeeze 10 more launches into the next 20 months and finish the project by the end of 2022. Chinese officials say the station will reserve space onboard for experiments from researchers all over the world—but geopolitical tensions will complicate. The US heavily restricts cooperation between NASA scientists and China, while the European Space Agency has reportedly pressured its researchers not to work with their Chinese counterparts.

Filipinos feel helpless against latest coronavirus surge (NYT) Grim tales are emerging in families across the Philippines, where Southeast Asia’s worst current outbreak has pushed total coronavirus cases beyond 1 million. Many who need treatment must be driven out of the capital, to hospitals as far as five hours away, as the health system buckles under the strain. The Philippines has recorded 16,000 deaths, with patients dying in their homes, on the road and sometimes right outside emergency room doors. Some private hospitals have turned to home care, remote consulting and recruiting health-care workers from the provinces. The Health Department is developing a home care package for patients with mild cases of covid-19.

Religious festival stampede in Israel kills 44, hurts dozens (AP)  A stampede at a religious festival attended by tens of thousands of ultra-Orthodox Jews in northern Israel killed at least 44 people and injured about 150 early Friday, medical officials said. It was one of the country’s deadliest civilian disasters. The stampede began when large numbers of people thronged a narrow tunnel-like passage during the event, according to witnesses and video footage. People began falling on top of each other near the end of the walkway, as they descended slippery metal stairs, witnesses said. Video footage showed large numbers of people, most of them black-clad ultra-Orthodox men, squeezed in the tunnel. The Haaretz daily quoted witnesses as saying police barricades had prevented people from exiting quickly. The stampede occurred during the celebrations of Lag BaOmer at Mount Meron, the first mass religious gathering to be held legally since Israel lifted nearly all restrictions related to the coronavirus pandemic.

Ethiopia detains Tigrayans amid war (AP) Ethiopia has swept up thousands of ethnic Tigrayans into detention centers across the country on accusations that they are traitors, often holding them for months and without charges, the AP has found. The detentions, mainly but not exclusively of military personnel, are an apparent attempt to purge state institutions of the Tigrayans who once dominated them, as the government enters its sixth month of fighting in the Tigray region. Detainees, families and visitors spoke of hundreds or even more than 1,000 people in at least nine individual locations, including military bases and an agricultural college. The arbitrary locking up of non-combatants is against international law, according to the International Committee of the Red Cross, which has met with family members of detainees but declined to answer questions. Conditions vary, but some detainees are given just one meal a day and crowded dozens to a room in sweltering metal shelters, at a time when COVID-19 infections are rapidly rising in Ethiopia.

[artificialqueens]

In Sickness and In Health Ch4 - shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - okay, here goes.

first of all, i officially dedicate this chapter to my bosom buddy, partner in crime, grandma and best friend, nymph. being your friend is the only christmas present i could ask for, so here’s a christmas gift to you for being so amazing. although it’s not christmas yet, merry christmas to you

that being said, there’s so many more people i wish i could write for, unfortunately i have lots of friends and little time. so for now, all of my love and the happiest christmas wishes go out to wick and frida, dottie, ortega, fudge/nugget, luci, ace, rosie, jazz - really just all of you who have made a positive impact on my life. merry christmas to all of you <3

As expected, the palace in which Prince Ron brought them to was just as extravagant as Sharon’s, but not nearly as tasteful. Alaska found herself cringing slightly at the decor, a sentiment which Sharon echoed with her raised eyebrows. It was too colourful, too overwhelmed with gold and silver and bronze, too shiny and gaudy and clashing.

Prince Ron led them out of the grand front room into the even larger, even more decorated throne room, where he spread his arms wide with a flourish. Despite how tacky yet expensive it looked, Alaska still took it all in. At the top of the room, positioned in the centre on a curved balcony, there stood a large gilded throne, cushioned with fine red velvet. Next to it, a smaller, more slender throne stood – this one purple, edged with silver.

“Welcome back to mi casa!” He announced. “That’s French for my home.”

“No it’s –” Sharon began, but of course, the prince simply wasn’t listening. It seemed he had a habit of only acknowledging Sharon’s presence – Alaska was invisible once more – and not even listening to her when she spoke. No wonder Sharon hadn’t fallen for his supposed charm.

“See that throne up there?” Prince Ron asked, heavily draping his arm around Sharon’s slender shoulders. The force of it roughly pulled their hands apart, and Sharon almost buckled from the sudden weight on her. She was growing weaker, but Alaska knew she was doing her best to hide it.

Sharon followed his eye line. “The red one?”

He chuckled heartily. “Oh, Sharon, you jest! No, the smaller, feminine one in purple. You see it?”

“Yes.”

Prince Ron clapped Sharon on the back; yet another overly-masculine gesture that Sharon struggled to ignore. “Do you like it? After all, I’m sure it one day will be yours. You will be a wonderful queen for our kingdoms, Sharon.”

Sharon hummed, all the while shooting glances at Alaska. “I think I prefer the red.”

The prince laughed again. “When did you become so comedic? Prefer the red? Genius!” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Well, we all know red is the colour of kings, it certainly isn’t for women!”

Alaska tuned out of his pompous voice, scowling as she thought of Sharon’s penchant for red lipstick. Not for women, my ass, she thought to herself.

“I mean, could you imagine? The audacity of treating a woman in such a way! Oh, and speaking of-”

He took a deep breath, ready to perform another dreadfully heartfelt soliloquy. His hand moved to place itself above his heart.

“My, oh my, how it feels so terrible!” Prince Ron lamented. “To give a weapon to a woman! Sharon, how can I live with myself, knowing that by giving you a weapon I’m opening you up to attack? As a man – no, as a gentleman, a prince, a courtier, it is my chivalrous duty to protect a fine lady such as yourself!”

Sharon mimed gagging in Alaska’s direction, clearly unimpressed with his antics. “This fine lady doesn’t need protecting. I’m more open to attack if I don’t have a weapon, Ron. I…” She paused, as though the words were painful. “I need your help.”

Those were the fatal words. Alaska could see it was killing Sharon to say them, but they had the desired effect. Ever the desperately traditional hero, Prince Ron was taken by them immediately.

“What kind of future king would I be, not to help a lady in need? Sharon, of course I’ll help you. If you won’t accept my company, I may as well bestow upon you some of the finest weaponry I have in my possession. Come this way.”

-0-

Unsurprisingly, Alaska was forced to wait outside as the weapon dealing took place. It made sense; regardless of how close her and Sharon were becoming, she had to remember that Sharon was a member of the royal family, not any regular girl. That was why she needed to keep both her behaviour and her heart in check. Sharon was a princess. Alaska was nothing.

Before long, one of the many women in the palace walked past Alaska, doubling back once she realized she didn’t recognise her face. The woman was well-dressed, with kind eyes and a large ring weighing down one of her fingers. At Alaska’s polite smile, she struck up a conversation.

“Sorry dear, I don’t believe we’ve met before?”

Her voice was rich and smooth. Alaska’s own accent sounded horribly common in comparison.

“No, my name’s Alaska and I’m accompanying the Princess Sharon on her travels. She’s just speaking to Prince Ron.”

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “A lovely girl, really. Ever so intelligent. She’ll make a remarkable queen.”

Alaska’s heart swelled, though she tried to ignore it. “I completely agree. She’s going to be amazing when her time comes.”

A sudden sense of trepidation washed over her, cold dread beginning to trickle down her system. She refrained from speaking the awful truth that had entered her mind.

If her time comes.

It was a very real possibility that Sharon would never be Queen. It was a very real possibility that the kingdom would never gather with high spirits to watch their young princess ascend to her throne, each one of them feeling pride as though she were a member of their own family. There wouldn’t be a day off in which the streets would be adorned in colourful banners, in which traditional dances would take place in the square and in which people would drink and laugh and eat cake. There wouldn’t be groups of women discussing the coronation dress, nor groups of men wondering who will be lucky enough to take her hand in marriage.

It was a very real possibility that the kingdom would fall into mourning. It was a very real possibility that they would gather with low spirits at the bottom of the palace steps, laying down flowers in memory of the beloved princess who was gone too soon. There would be a day off in order for the funeral procession to take place, with the casket containing the body of a girl who had barely lived. There would be an influx in the demand for black clothing, and no one would be seen not paying their respects to the late princess in their finest mourning wear.

Alaska only noticed she had welled up when the woman before her asked if she was okay, and she realized that her form was now blurry with tears. Quickly blinking them away, she forced out a little laugh and nodded.

“I spaced out a little then, whoops. I’ve been waiting a while.” She gestured back to where Prince Ron and Sharon had disappeared to.

The woman nodded understandingly. “Well, would you like to follow me to our library? I was looking for somebody to help me pick my next novel.”

Eager to move away from the doorway, Alaska agreed. As it turned out, the library was equally as grand as the rest of the palace, but in much better taste. Grecian architecture was prevalent throughout, with high arches and friezes of old gods and colonnades separating the different sections. It was stunning.

For at least twenty minutes, Alaska perused the shelves, gently stroking the leather-bound spines of the books and tracing the intricate pictures with the tip of her finger. She was sure the stories inside were as wonderful as the illustrations, and longed to be somebody who could read them. Her imagination could never do them justice.

“Alaska, dear, which novel do you think I should read next?”

The woman had laid out a selection of six books on one of the large tables, and seemed to be unable to make up her mind. Alaska studied each one, wishing again that she was able to read the titles. She hadn’t the faintest idea what any of them said, or would be about. She hadn’t read a book in her life.

“Uh… that one.” She decided eventually.

The woman smiled. “Any particular reason why?”

Alaska shrugged truthfully. “The pictures are really pretty.”

As soon as the words had left her lips, she cursed herself. Really? You’re in a palace full of well-educated people and you’re talking about pretty pictures?

To her surprise, the woman laughed heartily. “I like the way you think! Good pictures can make or break a story, in my opinion.”

At that, she turned around and started to put the other books back onto the shelf, climbing onto the wheeled ladder and turning her back on Alaska. Before she could properly respond, the door to the library forcefully slammed open, hitting the wall with an almighty bang. She whipped around, heart racing from the momentary shock, and spotted Prince Ron entering the room in long strides, with a hopeless-looking Sharon following him.

“Mother!” Prince Ron announced.

“Queen Ellena?” Sharon asked.

“Shit.” Alaska murmured.

She scurried to Sharon’s side as they approached the ladder in which the Queen was stood, her skin blushing as the situation dawned on her. This was the actual queen of the kingdom, Prince Ron’s mother – head of the royal family! And she, Alaska, had just been chatting away with zero knowledge.

“My apologies!” Alaska stuttered, sweeping into a clumsy curtsey as Sharon did the same, but tidier. “I-I wasn’t aware it was you, Y-Your Hi-”

The Queen waved her away, laughing gently. “Nonsense, both of you. I have no need to be Queen when I’m inside the palace walls, just call me Ellena. And none of this curtseying business!”

Sharon smiled. “It’s lovely to see you, Ellena. I was wondering if I may borrow some of your books for my journey? I’ll make sure they’re returned.”

Two things struck Alaska; one of them was that Sharon spoke differently to others – be it royalty or not – than she did to Alaska, and the other was her phrasing. I’ll make sure they’re returned. Even Sharon was all too aware that her survival was looking bleak. She wasn’t going to kid around and pretend like everything was fine.

“Of course, my dear! You’re welcome here anytime you like.”

Sharon was quick in her selection, which Alaska was endlessly grateful for. She was still a little embarrassed that she hadn’t known who the Queen was, and the presence of Prince Ron was making her far too uncomfortable to want to stay any longer. Goodness only knew how Sharon had coped speaking with him alone for the amount of time that she had.

“Alaska, do you have any you want to look at?” Sharon carefully stowed three books into her bag, looking up at her with earnest eyes.

She shook her head, her throat closing up. “I…” Alaska practically whispered. “I can’t read.”

Luckily for Alaska, Sharon didn’t visibly react; if she had it would have only added to the inappropriate sense of shame that came over her as soon as she spoke. Who cared if she couldn’t read? Most of their kingdom couldn’t, save for a few who had access to books and education. There was no need to be embarrassed!

Only Alaska was no longer in the company of their citizens anymore. She was in a palace, where everybody could read and write perfectly and had endless stories stored in their minds from years of pages turned and pictures looked at. In this scenario, she was the odd one out.

Sharon nodded quietly, not drawing attention to Alaska as she took one final book, thicker than the rest, from the shelf and slotted it into her bag.

“We really should be off,” Sharon spoke louder than before, causing both Ron and the Queen to look at her. “Thank you ever so much for the hospitality.”

The Queen frowned. “Won’t you stay to eat?”

Biting her lip, Sharon shook her head and politely declined. Alaska was sure they were both thinking of the debacle that had taken place in the palace back at home, with Sharon’s coughing and sickness and the bad temper that had upset the delicate balance of the dinner table. Neither of them wanted a repeat of that to be witnessed.

Eventually the Queen accepted that they wouldn’t stay, and before they could even turn around, Prince Ron insisted he would walk them back through the kingdom, keeping them safe until they reached their carriage. Again, neither of them wanted it – but at the same time, it reduced Alaska’s worry that someone would attack them. The last thing Sharon needed was someone trying to overpower her, especially when it seemed that a single breath of wind could do the job.

At the edge of the kingdom, a five minute walk from where their carriage was waiting for them, Prince Ron stopped.

“Dearest Sharon, this is as far as I am permitted to take you – but do not look glum. One day I shall take you around the whole world. For now, however, I must bid you adieu.”

He took hold of one of her hands, stroking her pale skin. It was a wonder he didn’t notice how skeletal her fingers were, her vivid the veins were.

“Even in the shortest window of time, your presence has the most profound effect on the heart. Until next time.”

It seemed as though Alaska blinked and all of a sudden he was kissing her, tilting her face upwards with his hand to meet his superior height. Though she made no attempt to pull away, Sharon’s nose was wrinkled, one of her hands balled into a fist as she tried to endure it.

Alaska sharply turned away from the two, sucking in a deep breath as her eyesight grew blurry. No matter where she looked, she could see them. The floor, her hands, her feet, imprinted everywhere was that horrible image, the silhouette of his lips against hers and his hands holding her face. I hate this. I hate this I hate this I hate this.

She tried everything. She was upset because she hated Prince Ron, and he didn’t deserve to be kissing someone as wonderful as Sharon. No. She was upset because Sharon was her friend, and she knew Sharon didn’t want to be with him. No. She was upset because… because…

No.

Never.

There’s Prince Ron’s voice. “Take care.”

Sharon. “We will.”

Prince Ron. “Goodbye, Sharon.”

Then footsteps. Alaska turned to find Prince Ron retreating, his back to them, slowly disappearing out of sight. As soon as he was gone, no longer in earshot or visible to either of them, Sharon doubled over and started to cough.

The action was so violent-sounding that Alaska was genuinely afraid she would fall over from the force of it. It was obscenely loud, racking her entire body as she shuddered and hacked. Amongst the horrid sound was a faint rattle, that could only be described as the death rattle of someone who was toeing the line between living and dying. Sharon had gone so long without coughing, presumably suppressing it so she didn’t cause alarm in the palace, and this seemed to be the result. Either that, or – as much as Alaska’s heart ached at the thought – she was simply getting worse.

By the time the fit was over, the grass and worn path were splattered with thick, dark globs of blood, as was Sharon’s chin. With the sleeve of her robe she quickly removed it, her chest heaving as she panted to catch her breath. Each inhalation was wheezy and shallow.

“C-Carriage.” She managed, clutching Alaska’s hand as tightly as she could and stumbling forwards. Her grip was loose – far too loose. Alaska held tight to compensate.

“A-At l-l-least-” Sharon tried again, every word seeming to drain her. “N-No-No-Not f-far…”

With that, her legs gave out beneath her, and she tumbled to the floor. Alaska’s heart leapt as the princess fell, hitting the ground hard and making no attempt to hold her arms out to cushion her fall. She simply took the impact with her body, not even trying to stand up once she’d fallen down. She was far too weak to do that.

“Sharon!” Alaska cried out, lifting the princess into her arms. It was terrifying how light she was, but thankfully it meant that Alaska could carry her, and quickly. She made her way back to the carriage as fast as she possibly could, gently setting her down and promising she’d be back soon.

“Onward,” She breathed to the driver. “Go!”

They took off like a shot; Alaska barely had time to clamber inside before the horses were whinnying and the carriage began to hurtle off the track they had been parked on and away from the village. Inside, Sharon was still in the exact position that Alaska had set her down in, unchanged.

She tried to lift her hand, succeeding in moving it an inch or two before it fell again. “W-Water… b-b-better…”

Alaska scrambled for the water, pouring some out of one of the bottles they had into a small cup. Clearly Sharon wasn’t strong enough to hold it, so she shifted forwards and held it to Sharon’s lips, tilting it slowly to allow her to have little sips at a time. Her breathing began to slow, her chest settling as she relaxed back into the carriage.

“Th-Thank you.” She spoke up, this time clearer and less shaky. “C-Can I?”

Despite the vicious trembling of her hands, Sharon succeeded in drinking a little more water, only spilling a few drops down her front in the process. It was the least of her worries, in any case. Her strength was beginning to return, bit by bit.

“C-Can you tell the driver to st-stop when it’s night? I’d r-rather sleep like th-that.”

Alaska nodded, her heart sinking as she gazed into Sharon’s tired eyes. “Of course,” She promised, beginning to lean out of the carriage once again. “Anything for you.”

-0-

Things were quiet for a good few hours after the carriage continued away from the kingdom. It was still late morning when they had set off, and the comfortable silence allowed Sharon to regenerate her strength and energy without feeling too under pressure to prove that she was okay. In the meantime, Alaska alternated between looking out of the window and checking up on Sharon. Outside, the view had finally started to change, and the endless stream of trees and green grass and hedges finally started to make way for ocean views and sand as they approached the coastline. Having never been to the beach, Alaska was sincerely fascinated by it all. Opposite her, Sharon didn’t change all too much. She sat up a little straighter after a few hours, and her eyes started to look a little brighter, and she began to look more alive and awake than she had before, but that was mostly it.

It was nearing dusk when the silence between the two was breached; the carriage had just stopped, and Alaska had been gazing out of the window for far too long, urging Sharon to look too. It was as if the world around them was rearranging itself, transitioning from blue to gold, rose, violet, thousands of colours streaking across the sky. Far off to the west, the sun was sinking lower and lower into the horizon.

The two got out of the carriage, desperate to stretch their legs after so long of sitting down. Alaska wisely grabbed one of the blankets from the bench she was sitting on, carrying it with her and setting it down on the sand so her and Sharon could sit. There wasn’t much space on the blanket, so they had to sit close in order to be free of the invasive sand. Sharon didn’t seem to mind, and Alaska’s heart was pounding.

“I used to do this a lot. Just staring at the sunset from my bedroom window. I had this amazing view of the entire kingdom and a little further beyond.” Sharon told her. Her voice was tinged with what sounded like bittersweet memories.

Alaska bit her lip. “Ever been to the beach?”

Sharon nodded. “Yeah. Some of my dad’s business things were more vacations than they were business. He’d only really be in meetings for an hour a day, and then we could go out and do whatever we wanted. I used to build sandcastles with Adore and help her dip her toes into the sea.”

She sighed. “When I got sick, it ruined everything for everyone. My dad went to business alone. We weren’t allowed on vacation at all. Not even my mom and my sisters without me. I think Laila resents me for that.”

“That’s not fair.” Alaska frowned. “You couldn’t help getting sick.”

Sharon snorted mirthlessly. “I guess that’s true. Although, being at the beach after so many years away feels like I’m ticking off some kind of bucket list.”

For a moment, Alaska wondered briefly about her own bucket list. Dying hadn’t really crossed her mind before, save for some of the less-plentiful harvests that impacted her grumbling tummy come wintertime. Death just seemed far away, like an inevitable but not so imposing raincloud of a distant storm. It was as probable as birth but it didn’t really mean anything to Alaska. The only real significance it held was that her parents had passed, and one day she would cross over and be with them. It was comforting, at least, to know they were there.

Sharon didn’t have anyone waiting for her. Alaska’s heart broke as she thought about how it must feel, to be young and already facing Death’s cruel penance. She was essentially staring her fate in the face knowing she was walking into it blind and alone.

“Lasky.” Sharon said suddenly, with urgency. “Come in the sea with me.”

Alaska did a double take. “Huh? Why?”

“Think about it!” Sharon replied, almost gleefully. “This is it, for me. This journey is live or die. If I live, I want good memories. If I die, I want to go out knowing I had some fun. This is the bucket list trip, the end of life checklist. Please?”

Slowly climbing to her feet, Alaska grinned. “Last one to the sea is a rotten egg.”

They instantly took off down the sand, Alaska reaching the waves far before Sharon did. Even so, Sharon was running, and Alaska’s heart felt as though it was swelling up just watching her. She’d discarded her hooded robe, and was running with her skirt clutched in her hands to allow for easier movement. As soon as she caught up, she grabbed Alaska’s hand without a second thought and willed her to run further into the freezing sea.

“STOP!” Alaska giggled, screeching as the cold water lapped about her ankles. Sharon did the same, performing a strange jumpy dance as she squealed and ended up splashing more than she spared. “LET’S JUMP OVER THE WAVES!”

The wind started to pick up, but it wasn’t like it mattered. Both girls were cold already, the water now up to the tops of their shins and still icy.

Hours could have passed in which they were simply fooling around. They jumped over waves, until a piece of seaweed wrapped itself around Sharon’s foot and caused her to scream and jump directly into Alaska’s arms, which was succeeded by a laughing fit which caused Alaska to drop her directly into an oncoming wave, and in turn caused her to laugh so much that she, too, was suddenly soaked in sea water. They splashed one another, flinging great big handfuls of icy spray in the others direction and shrieking madly at the cold. Somehow time passed without their notice, with the silly games and endless enjoyment masking the change from the warm colours of the evening to the cool, dark purples and indigos of the night. By the time they stopped, their hair was ragged and drenched, their clothes were soaked, and both girls were shivering with chattering teeth.

They had ended up facing each other, the seawater just above their knees, positively shaking in the biting wind. Alaska noted a tear in Sharon’s eye, though whether it was from laughter, cold or sadness, she didn’t know.

“ALASKA!” She shouted over the wind, more tears gathering in her eyes. Gosh, those eyes. Nothing looked prettier in the moonlight than they did.

“YES?” Alaska shouted back, taking both of Sharon’s numb hands in her own.

“I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” She yelled. Though her voice was hard to distinguish, it sounded heartbroken. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”

Alaska teared up instantly, and surged forward to tightly embrace Sharon. Both of them were trembling violently, but Alaska clutched her tight to her chest as though she were a lifeline.

“I don’t want to die!” She sobbed brokenly into Alaska’s chest. “I don’t, I don’t, I don’t! I never have!”

Despite her best efforts, Alaska found herself crying too. She cradled Sharon’s head, stroking her hair, the sensation of the sea forgotten.

“I don’t want you to go either. Please, please, please don’t go. You can’t go yet. You can’t leave me. I…”

 Sharon lifted her tear-stained face to look up at Alaska.

“I love you.”

The sky was black. The sea was cold. The moon was bright. The poor girl was living. The princess was dying. And the two lovers, entwined and drenched and crying as though the world was ending, kissed on the beach.

[draginhikari]

Kari Azuresol - In-Depth Profile

Kari Azuresol

Age: 18 Sex: Female Orientation: Asexual Race: Raen Au Ra Height: 5’2” Hair Color: Light Blue Eye Color: Blue with Light Blue Limbi Skin Color: Bluish Gray Built: Athletic Occupation/Title: Adventurer, Warrior of Light, Scion, First Flame Lieutenant First appearance in current FFXIV timeline: between 2.55 and 3.0

Primary Combat Jobs:

·         Paladin ·         Samurai ·         Machinist ·         Ninja ·         White Mage

Non-Combat Roles:

·         Miner ·         Botanist ·         Alchemist ·         Leatherworker ·         Weaver Primary Weapon:

·         Excalibur Aettir (PLD, A re-forged Zodiac Brave using the Anima weapon process, non-canon, story exclusive) ·         True Ice Katana (SAM) ·         Allagan Pistol (Modified) (MCH) ·         Ohojo Kai (NIN) ·         Augmented Shire Crook (WHM)

 Primary Gear Set:

·         Blue Heroine Paladin Armor (PLD) ·         Blue Heroine Samurai Gear (SAM) ·         Blue Heroine Machinist Uniform (MCH) ·         Blue Heroine Ninja Gear (NIN) ·         Blue Heroine Healer Robe (WHM) ·         Fuga Haori set ·         Scion Business Uniform ·         Thavnairian Bustier set ·         Far Eastern Dress ·         Faire Joi/Moonfaire set

Likes: Adventures, Hero/Adventure stories, Thavnairian dance, Metallic Blue Dye, Fruit, Emeralds, Sapphire, Good Challenge, Music

Dislikes: Voidsent, Spicy Food, Politics, Herbs, most vegetables, Touching her horns or tail, romance stories, whining

 Personality:

Kari has a polarized personality in general.    She in general is helpful and willing to act, but she often times has a tenacity to be grumpy and socially awkward at the same time.   Her friend Aya often refers her jokingly as ‘Tsunkari’ because of this personality trait.   She has a bit of a temper, can be easily annoyed, and is not particular good at keep her emotions entirely in check.  She does care deeply for those around her even if she has a tenacity to mask it behind her general attitude.   She takes her role as a Warrior of Light very seriously and does whatever she can to be of use to those that need of it.

Kari is the textbook example of an asexual personality.   She is entirely oblivious to love and relationships as a whole and doesn’t really understand them.   In fact, she will have a more volatile reaction to having her horns or tail grabbed than someone touching her breasts or butt like most would expect.   This stems from her insecurities of being teased about them as a child then actually being touched so it is not even related to feeling of violation.   It was so bad that her childhood friend Shadros was clamoring for her attention for years and even after his death; she still has never registered the nature of his feelings for her and still thinks of them only as good friends.    

This extends to the way she dresses, as she feels no pressure in what she wears since she is rather unconcerned with how she appears before others and has been known to wear clothing that exposes more skin then what would be expected without much of a thought to it outside of what feels comfortable to her.  In fact, the only time she has expressed embarrassment in an outfit is her Thavnairian Bustier but that is not even because it’s revealing, it is because she is slightly embarrassed by her private hobby of liking to dance.   The fact that the purpose of such an outfit is to appear sexualized doesn’t even dawn on her.

Regardless of her obliviousness to particular subjects, Kari is not stupid by any sense of the word.  Though, not much of a tactician, Kari has adjusted herself to a number of different fighting styles and abilities through the various soul crystals she currently has in her collection.   She also reads many books and is a bit of nerd in her private time in areas of history, artisan, and even dance.   However, she would never admit to any of this outright and tends to get embarrassed when brought up.  Given her years of doing domestic tasks on the island home she is also a good with her hands and is a semi-decent artisan when she wants to be, though her tenacity to get easily distracted kind of prevents her from taking full advantage of that ability.

Public Background:

Kari Azuresol is a young woman who appeared seemingly out of nowhere.   Appearing to the Scion shortly before the events in Ishgard.   She claimed initially to be the apprentice of Shadros Hiku, a Warrior of Light involved in Operation Archon who disappeared shortly after the Scions were falsely accused of regicide in Ul’dah.   Since that time, Kari has developed quite a reputation for her own abilities during the events in Ishgard, Doma, and the liberation of Ala Mhigo proving to be an even more powerful Warrior of Light then her predecessor.   Though very little is still known about Kari’s past nor her connection to Shadros Hiku very clear.   Any attempt to learn such things has been rejected by Kari outright.

Private Background Summary:

Age 3

 ·         Kari was separated from her family at a young age during a rebel and imperial conflict near the western edge of the Ruby Sea. 

·         Kari fell into the Ruby Sea but was saved when she managed to cling to a wooden crate and was small enough to climb onto to it but not enough to keep the box from drifting further out to sea. 

·         Kari was rescued by a fishing boat two days later though in bad shape, she would recover thanks to her rescuers.    

·         Kari’s rescuers were a group of Ala Mhigian Refugees rather than fleeing to Eorzea, they fled to the Eastern seas on a small island some distance to the south of Othard forming a small fishing and sea faring community.

·         Having little memory of family and with no way to get back to Othard, Kari began her life among the refugee camp.   Being the only Au Ra in the village of Hyurs she faced a lot of difficulties with her differences, she soon develop a strong friend with Shadros Hiku, son of the village leader.  

·         As she only knew her first name, the villagers adopted Kari into the village granting her what they referred the ‘Protection of Rhalgr’ and giving her the surname Azuresol given relatively unique appearance and fondness for blue in general.

 Age 4-17, including events of FFXIV 1.0

·         During her time in the village, she grew obsessed with the stories of Eorzean heroes from the many books the villagers had brought with them from their homeland and began to dream of adventure herself.  

·         Though she displayed talent, women from the village were not permitted to train or wield weapons so she saw little chance of ever being do so.   Therefore, as she grew she began to accept her lot in life and worked to help the village out in other ways.   However, she and Shadros did practice together in secret from time to time to the dismay of many in the village.  

·         Shadros, too, having a dream to one day exploring the world and promised Kari that he would bring her along when the time was right.  Though young Shadros seem to be smitten with Kari, Kari continued to be completely oblivious to it.

·         FFXIV 1.0 took place around the time Kari was 12 years old but was far enough East that their home was mostly unaffected by the Calamity.  So she was mostly unaware of the events outside of rumors.

6 months prior to 2.0 Realm Reborn, Age 17

·         A Regiment under the Viceroy of Doma, Zenos Yae Galvus discovered the Ala Mhigo refugees and had the island attacked.  

·         Shadros and Kari managed to escape merely at Zenos’ whim as they escaped on a fishing boat not considering them worth the effort… or perhaps it was the hatred that Kari had in her eyes when their gazes met, it was hard to say with Zenos.

3 months prior to 2.0 Realm Reborn

·         Shadros managed to get the two to Kugane and managed to stowaway on a ship to Eorzea.  

·         There the two made their way to Ul’dah where Shadros intended to join the Gladiator guild there to support the two of them.  

·         Kari still needed to keep herself hidden as her kind was still a rare occurrence and a recent string of voidsend incidents had left the authorities in the area on edge.  

5 Days prior to 2.0 Realm Reborn

·         As Shadros had was scheduled to visit the Guild, Kari had removed her hood when drinking water from a creek and was spotted by a Brass Blade patrol.  She was mistaken for a voidsend and was attacked by the Brass Blades.  

·         Shadros and Kari were force to flee northward to lose them entering the dangerous and darken Northern Thanalan.  

·         They escaped the Brass Blades but was then attacked by the Hymn Venom order, an independent sect of the Lambs of Dalamud who was more focused on the summoning of powerful voidsend then worship of the lesser moon though they continued to wear the garb of the religious order.  

·         The two were easily subdued and captured.  

·         The two were intended to be sacrifice in order to summon their true lord and master, the demon Hymn Venom through a dreadful blood ritual.   Shadros was the first victim as his neck was sliced right in front of Kari.  

·         In her moment of despair and desperation a manifestation of the Echo awoken within Kari with rather unintended results.   The surge of aetheric energy caused some confusion as Kari’s body turned to stone and sudden Shadros was back on his feet as if nothing could happen.  

·         The confusion allowed Shadros enough time to use the Return spell to return to the Aetheryte at Black Station.   However, Shadro’s memory was greatly affected by this sudden events and teleportation causing him not only to forget Kari but much of what had happened to him beforehand.

Events of 2.0-2.5 Realm Reborn to Before the Fall, Kari frozen in time at 17

·         Most of the MSQ events other than the following was unaltered

·         Travel caravan offered Shadros a ride to Ul’dah from Black Station.  

·         Shadros got into a scuffle shortly after arriving where he was saved by a bad situation by Ferah Parohren

·         The power of the echo (even though he did not have it before) seemed to be thriving with him eventually allowing him to gather the crystals of light and engage the primals becoming a new Warrior of Light in the process.  

·         Each task he took on as the Warrior of Light, the more Shadros began to remember minor details and began to seek information in regards to the Hymn Venom order with the assistance of the Doman Ninja, Aya.  

·         After discovering some vital documents and utilizing the power of the Zodiac Brave weapons he had created discovered the secrets of his lost past.   The reality he came to was he was not the true Warrior of Light, the power of the echo that had guided him throughout his journey was in reality, Kari’s.   Somehow, the incident at the Hymn Venom’s base had caused their soul to unite in one body, likely a result of the Echo manifesting in the situation that it did.  

·         Shadros recalled his feelings for Kari and decided to find a way to free her from her curse.

2.55-3.0, Before the Fall Kari frozen and released at age 17

·         Storyline for 2.55 played out unaltered.

·         Shadros, probably under duress and stress from 2.55 events decided to invade the Hymn Venom base at an abandoned Ceruleum plant in Northern Thanalan entirely on his own.

·         Shadros would eventually locate and invade the base of the Hymn Venom order.  The power of Kari’s echo growing stronger the closer it returned to its true place.    

·         Engaging the leader Gadloix, he managed to defeat the Hymn Venom leadership almost effortlessly; however, Gadloix forced summoned Hymn Venom at the last moment using his own life force as the sacrifice.  

·         Though Hymn Venom was incomplete, Shadros was no match for Hymn Venom.   He utilizing trickery, to drop the demon into a Ceruleum pool but not before he was severely poisoned by the beast.  

·         With no chance to escape or survive Shadros made the decision to use the power of the Zodiac Blade to return Kari soul and freed her body from the curse.   He also placed the Excalibur Zodiac Brave and his Paladin soul crystal with her and sent her on her way.

·         Kari would awaken on a small island, though she spent a time mourn Shadro’s loss and pondering her fate.  She soon discovered the weapon and soul crystal left by Shadros.  

·         Deciding to continue where he left off, her experiences when Shadros and she were one helped her to grow stronger in a much smaller period then Shadros did.  

·         Kari would return and find Aya and she would become a common ally for her throughout her time in Eorzea and gave her a key that gave Kari access to everything Shadros had left behind for her as well as revealing that Aya had sent letters by Shadros to all relative parties to make the transition easier.

·         With some difficult, she was able to convince the remaining Scions along with a letter Shadros had left for them and went with them to Ishgard.

3.0-3.3 Heavensward-Revenge of the Horde Age 17

·         Traveled learning the truth of the Dragonsong War and reigniting the Crystals of Light Shadros had collect, becoming even more powerful than they had been under him.

·         Death of Haurchefant and Ysayle hit Kari hard because it reminded her what happened to Shadros.

·         During the final battle with Thordan at the Aetherochemical Research Facility.   Kari would soon discover that the Zodiac Weapons left by Shadros were actually growing weaker without his presence and the Excalibur was crack when she struck the Thordan’s sword towards the end of their battle.  

·         In order to save what was left of the Zodiac Weapons, she agree to sacrifice their forms and use their power to begin to forge a new series of weapons, the Anima weapons.

·         Events of 3.1-3.3 played out unaltered, expect that Shadros’ death along with Haurchefant and Ysayle motivated her to agree with Alphinaud to save Estinen.

After 3.4 Soul Surrender Age 18

·         Kari turned 18 here.

·         Kari had stopped imitating Shadros and began to be more of her own person at this point, though slightly upset as it appeared people were already forgetting Shadros.

·         Kari visited Ceruleum factory Shadros died to pay her respects.   Kari is attacked by remnants of the Hymn Venom order along with a masked man who destroyed the old factory and calls himself ‘Black Zodiac”.

·         Kari with her improved skills fought the enemy to a standstill.   When reinforcements began to arrive, Black Zodiac tricked Kari and got Kari buried under falling rubble and debris.  

·         Kari suffered only minor injured but her Paladin armor was damaged beyond repair as a result.

·         Kari met with Aya once more, resulting in a spar to snap Kari out of her loathing.   After proving her strength, Aya gifted her a new Circlet and Eastern Garb before she would leave for the Far East.

3.5-3.55 Far Edge of Fate

·         Unlike in the past Kari did accept Papalymo’s decision when the time came to make a choice.

·         However, Kari was upset at being completely helpless to do anything about the situation.

·         Kari agreed with the decision to use Omega, begrudgingly.  So much so that her asking what Yda thought was more of avoiding having to make the choice herself.

·         Kari devoted herself to becoming even stronger seeing the campaign in Ala Mhigo a chance to do so.

4.0 Stormblood

·         Kari did not immediately recognize Zeno until their second encounter in Doma.  Even when she did vengeance for Shadros did not even cross her mind; it was more of her wounded pride for losing so effectively.

·         Kari was prone to making the more aggressive decisions for the first part of Stormblood due to her excessive frustration.   It is likely why she agree to Yugiri’s assassination plan.  However, she finally began to get back in control it after encountering Hien and the people of Doma finally beginning to grasp a few concepts that she had been internally struggle with.   She gained great respect for him and became more level headed during the rest of the conflict.

·         Kari outright rejected Zeno and his notion that they were the same, though she does accept that at the beginning that she could have very well been.   However, by the time of the final battle Kari had let go of her anger and frustration.   She was able to fight Zeno and Shinryu with no malice and emerged victorious.

4.1 Return of the Legend

·         Kari relocated and purchase a home for herself in Shirogane and looking to reconnect with her lost eastern roots.

·         Kari began work on forging a new set of Paladin Armor she dubbed ‘Blue Heroine Armor’ based on some of the old stories.

·         She would also begin plans for a similar armor set for her Ninja and Machinist fighting styles as well.

·         She began to work with Gerolt and Ardashir to rebuild the Excalibur using the techniques discovered during the development of the Anima Weapons.

·         Kari continued her streak at the end of Stormblood of being less angry and more merciful especially since she decided against wanting to execute Laurentius and Yuyuhase.  

·         She shows the same view toward Fordola currently.  She has not taken a non-violence role but she has moved away of killing those who have already been subdued or cannot fight as a general principle. “Blue Heroine” Paladin Armor picture done by @fyrielle