#also surface level knowledge of flower language

[autisticringo]

You think yourself different, but your father's blood will always be in your veins.

[thetarotyapper]

how do they feel about you? (pick-a-card reading - detailed)

1. 2. 3.

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(how to pick a card? observe the given options and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. select the card based on the number provided below and scroll down to read about the card you have chosen. remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

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⊹₊⋆ pile 1

first off, this person is very sexually and physically attracted to you. they constantly think about you and they have a lot of love to offer you. but at the same time they are unsure about their feelings because they think this ‘attraction’ they have towards you can just be an infatuation. and because of this, they are not making any efforts to approach you. some of them might be in denial. they definitely like you a lot and they want to ask you out but due to their uncertainty, they are holding back. it looks like there is some sort of imbalance in their life and they’re trying to figure out what it is, and this is also one of the reasons they are not making a move towards you. there seems to be some conflicts in their personal life and they don't want you to be a part of it. they’re trying to resolve this conflict before getting into a relationship or pursuing anything with you. they definitely look at you as someone who has high knowledge and they admire the way you stand true to yourself. they look at you as someone who has their life together. they also find you very charismatic and emotionally mature and they feel like they lack those abilities. this also seems like one of the reasons why they’re scared to approach you.

for many of you, this person has not spoken to you yet but they admire you from afar. but they are planning to take steps and come forward because at some point they feel like they need to come clean to you because they can't hold in their feelings for you any longer. this person is very physically attracted to you and daydreams about you to an unhealthy level (be a little mindful about this). but this does not mean that they only desire you sexually. they also have genuine and pure feelings for you. i see that one of their love languages is gift-giving and i wouldn't be surprised if they get you a chocolate or flowers when they’re going to ask you out. or when they finally get the courage to talk to you, do not be surprised if they buy you small things like chocolates or anything like that. they feel like there is more to you compared to what you put on the surface and they’re very curious about you. at some point, they are trying to deny their feelings towards you and they realise that this is not working because the affection and feelings they have towards you is very strong. so, it seems like they will be taking a step forward and will try to approach you. but it's going to be a slow process. but do not lose hope.

also side note, do not be surprised if you find an anonymous note in your bag. this is a way of them subtly admitting their feelings towards you.

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✦ . ⁺ pile 2

i'm getting the energy that this person might be a little older than you (take only if it resonates). i'm getting a sense that they are going through a rough time right now. stress is definitely a huge negative factor in their life and they are weighed down with responsibilities. they see you as someone who is completely opposite to them. they see you as someone who has their life together, who has knowledge, who has good divine power, who is gentle with other people while their personality might be a little rough - as in like they have a very stoic personality. you seem very tender and very sweet and this intimidates them because they feel like you’re too delicate for them and they don’t deserve you.

some of you might be good with children and this person feels overwhelmed by this, not sure why. they also feel like you have your future planned out, career planned out and you're sure on what you want to do while they’re stuck in this cycle where they are not sure what they want to do and the responsibilities weighing them down is also increasing their burden.

for some of you, i'm getting a sense that your work requires you to travel or you might be travelling somewhere - and this is holding them back. they feel like they can't keep up with the long distance or they can’t keep up with the sudden movements - where one day you’re with them and the next day you’re not because of work or other responsibilities.

also, they pay extra attention to your hands. they find your hands very attractive. they find it very soft and delicate and very feminine. they also feel like you are too good for them and they feel like you are this very high-authoritative person (maybe you might hold a good position in work) and they feel very small - emotionally - next to you, and this makes them feel a little insecure. they’re trying to work on this so they can better themselves for you. they also see you as a confident person and they feel like they do not match your level. they feel like you would be embarrassed to have them around. they're also very curious about you and might ask people who know you about the things you like or dislike in order to know you better.

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٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ pile 3

oh my god. this person's feelings towards you are very genuine. they are emotionally attached as well as attracted to you. they admire the way you are so emotionally mature. their feelings for you are so strong (there is no doubt in that!) that they sometimes look at you and think “what have you done to me?”. you seem like a very social person and one thing they’re scared of is that you have many options open for you (in terms of romance) and they feel like they do not stand a chance. you're like this light that draws everyone in and you catch people’s eyes very quickly. it's like when you walk in a room everyone takes notice of your presence. they feel like they are going to lose you and they are working on changing this mindset.

it seems like this person had previously or currently had some bad habits, or habits that do not align with yours or something that you’d be attracted to, so they’re changing those habits for you. this is the amount of sacrifice they are willing to give up in order to be with you. they are willing to change themselves for you.

i am getting a sense that this person might jokingly throw around comments stating, “oh, i like you so much” or “this is why i like you so much” while talking to you. it seems like you know/have already met this person. they are definitely not afraid to show that they like you and may give out subtle hints. but at the same time they’re afraid you’ll find out about their feelings towards you because they’re still in the process of changing some undesirable habits. if you are very family oriented, they like this fact about you. it also seems like they have mentioned you to the people in their close circle.

they like how caring and giving you are regardless of how people treat you. you also seem like a popular person or someone who has many friends and connections and they admire how kind you are to people regardless of your social status. they see you as this trophy they want to win. they might say silly silly things to impress you (oh boy they’re in love!) and try to win you over.

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hi loves!! i hope this reading finds you in good health and i hope you are doing well. take care of yourself and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

(note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

[colleendoran]

The Secret Language of a Page of Chivalry: The Pre-Raphaelite Connection

Adapting Neil Gaiman’s Chivalry is a decades-long dream fulfilled. The story as text can be enjoyed on multiple levels, and so can the art. You look at the pages and see the pretty pictures, but the pictures also have meta-textual meaning. Knowing this secret language adds to the experience.

Some people pick up the references quickly, but I’ll share with you some more of what’s going on under the surface.

In Ye Olden Days of Art Making, most painters made pictures that contained visual narrative cues. Flowers in a picture might be heraldic signs that signaled political affiliations, or could indicate purity, anger, or love. Purple was the color of kings. A dog in a picture might represent faithfulness, and butterflies could represent the soul.

There are Pre-Raphaelite paintings with so many symbols and ideas in them that you need a deep working knowledge of Victorian and Edwardian social mores to understand what’s going on.

For example, Ford Madox Brown’s Work, a painting which took some 13 years to complete, was first exhibited in 1865 with a catalogue explaining all its symbols and elements. There is nothing in that picture that doesn’t mean something.

I brought some of that visual meta-textual sensibility to Chivalry, (and I’ve written about the symbolism and meanings in the work in other essays.)

I also brought into the work direct Pre-Raphaelite art references.

From 1868-1870, Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones created four paintings illuminating the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea, entitled Pygmalion and the Image, and wrote a poem with each line titling one painting:

The heart desires

The hand refrains

The godhead fires

The soul attains.

A perfect little poem for Chivalry, and I think of it often when some people present me with what I think is a very strange question: why didn’t Galaad just take the Holy Grail from Mrs. Whitaker?

It kind of breaks my heart that people would even ask that.

Burne-Jones painted two versions of this series of which this is the second.

In the first panel of this page, Sir Galaad kneeling before the Grail is derived from the figure of Pygmalion kneeling before Galatea: The Soul Attains.

Sir Galaad’s restraint even in the face of his greatest desire makes him worthy of his prize.

There are two Pre-Raphalite references in this page, the most obvious being in panel 2: it’s Sir John Everett Millais’s 1857 work A Dream of the Past: Sir Isumbras at the Ford.

The painting was very poorly received on first exhibition, compelling Millais to redo significant portions of it. It was caricatured and ridiculed, and then ended up becoming influential and popular, and isn’t that the way it goes.

That’s an art career in a nutshell, really.

The Sir Isumbras image also influenced John Tenniel’s illustrations for the Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland novels.

Sir Isumbras derives from a 13th century Medieval romance poem about a good knight whose pride causes him to fail in his Christian duty. He is presented with a series of difficult challenges before he can find happiness again, reunite with his family, and be forgiven his sins. The painting by Millais is based less explicitly on the poem than it is on a later parody of the poem. (It’s complicated.)

My using Sir Isumbras as the base for the shot of Galaad with the children is obvious here. In the Millais painting, Sir Isumbras carries a woodcutter’s children across the ford. In Chivalry, Sir Galaad carries the children of Mrs. Whitaker’s neighborhood down the street.

While Sir Isumbras spent many years learning humility and Christian duty, Galaad has a long quest to fulfill before he can achieve his goal. And on the way to that goal, he’s humble and nice to children, too.

That the Millais painting was such a huge influence on many a depiction of knighthood over the years made it a perfect reference point here, and the story behind both the painting and the poem give it further layers of meaning.

The next panel has a far less obvious reference, but the source is Arthur Hughes’s painting The Rescue.

Arthur Hughes is one of the lesser-known Pre-Raphaelites, but his art is widely seen and influential. He’s certainly been a big influence on me, as many of his paintings appear again and again in Arthuriana references, as he was a prolific King Arthur picture tale teller.

The Rescue (1907-1908) was originally part of a diptych which was separated and sold back in the 1920’s. His style was becoming unpopular by the time Hughes painted the work, and little is known about this work except that one panel was in the collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber at some point. Maybe still is. Dunno.

Anyway, the diptych depicts a little child kneeling in prayer menaced by a dragon in one panel, and in the next, safely trotting away with a knight on horseback. I like that this is a diptych, a kind of proto-comic art form common in medieval religious art, so this was perfect to use here.

Another reference to Arthur Hughes is in this double page splash from later in the book as Galaad on his quest encounters the Hesperides.

I didn’t set out to reference this Arthur Hughes piece at first, but it’s one of my favorite paintings. When I realized my sketches for this scene kept echoing the Hughes composition, I went with it. The Hughes painting of Galahad is one of the most famous depictions of the character, so it makes me happy to have this referenced in Chivalry.

Kindly ask for CHIVALRY, published by Dark Horse Comics in the USA and by Headline Books in the UK at your local comic shops or bookstore. Written by Neil Gaiman. Adaptation and art by me.

For further reading on this project, go HERE.

HERE.

And HERE.

Thank you to my Patreon patrons for sponsoring my work and this post.

Colleen Doran Illustrates Neil Gaiman will be a solo exhibit at the Society of Illustrators in New York City this spring. Watch this space for updates.

Have a wonderful holiday season.

[it-begins-with-rain]

Chinese Language TV Recommendations

For my Korean TV Recommendations, click here.

*Contains both Mainland-Chinese and Taiwanese programs.

** Updated 05/23/21 with “Miss The Dragon” & “Word of Honor”

A Love So Beautiful

Can the pure love of 17-year-olds endure through all the challenges of college and adulthood?

Chen Xiao Xi and Jiang Chen are high school friends and neighbors who grew up together. Xiao Xi is happy-go-lucky and doesn’t like to study much but she has a talent for drawing. Jiang Chen is popular for his good looks and high grades, but is cold and indifferent to other people.

Their friends include swimmer Wu Bo Song, who will do anything for XiaoXi, the dorky and over-confident gamer Lu Yang, and Lin Jing Xiao, the most beautiful girl in school (who Lu Yang is hopelessly in love with).

How will the realities of life shape the friendships and love lives of these young adults?

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Ashes of Love // Heavy Sweetness, Ash-Like Frost

Jin Mi is the secret lovechild of the Flower Deity and the Water Immortal, conceived before the Flower Deity suffers a fatal wound.

The deity gives birth to a baby girl (Jin Mi) on her deathbed, and foresees the infant will face a terrible trial by her 10,000th year. To save her from her fate, the Flower Deity gives Jin Mi a pill that makes it impossible for her to ever feel romantic love. Upon her death, she forbids anyone in the Flower Kingdom from revealing the fact that she had a child.

Several thousand years later, Jin Mi is a bumbling little fairy trapped in The Water Mirror- a gilded prison where low-level fairies can live in peace. Jin Mi believes she is a small Grape Fairy, and lives a happy (if not dull) life within the Mirror with her friends.

When a charred bird falls from the heavens into the Water Mirror, Jin Mi decides to eat save the poor little ‘crow’– who in reality is Xu Feng, the mighty phoenix son of the Heavenly Emperor. Her decision to not eat save the Fire God will put them at the heart of plots and schemes, romances and adventures spanning the Flower Kingdom, Heavenly Realm, Demon Kingdom, and the Realm of Mortals.

**Trigger Warning: Contains reference to off-camera sexual assault.**

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Dance of the Phoenix

Feng Wu, a former genius girl in the Junwu Continent, was attacked by her old enemy Zuo Qingluan. In the attack, she lost not only her memories and abilities, but her “phoenix blood” which made her powerful.

In order to save Feng Wu her secret tutor, Master Mu Jiuzhou (a hero thought long dead whose soul is bound inside a ring Feng Wu wears around her neck), exhausted his vitality and fell into a deep coma.

The forces Master Mu Jiuzhou were trying to keep at bay are roiling again, readying for war unless Feng Wu can recover her memories, her power, and survive long enough to release him from the ring.

But if Feng Wu at full power couldn’t stop the evil Zhuo Qingluan’s attack and save herself, what chance does “normal person” Feng Wu have?

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Douluo Continent

Tang San is a hardworking and kind young man who was raised by his single father to be a blacksmith to a small village. His demanding father taught him secret techniques and cultivated unknown abilities while refusing to ever allow him to enter the world of the Soul Masters- heroes who use their inner power to defeat monstrous Soul Beasts and collect their power.

One day, Tang San is attacked in the woods by a fearsome Soul Spider and uses his special techniques to survive, drawing the eye of a nearby Soul Master. The man tests Tang San and discovers that while his Soul Spirit takes the utterly useless form of a common weed (as opposed to say a lion or a wolf), he harbors extreme untapped power and potential.

What only Tang San and his father know is that Tang San is a rare Twin-Soul, in possession of not one Soul Spirit- the Blue Grass- but a second extraordinarily rare weapon spirit capable of being wielded either against foes or in protection of innocents.

Unable to deny Tang San the ability to learn to control his power, his father allows him to leave the protection of the village and embark on a journey to develop his powers and perhaps learn the truth of his parentage.

On his journey Tang San will be joined by the mysterious and naïve Xiao Wu- a seemingly unstoppable and optimistic girl with a rabbit as her Soul Spirit and the ability to absorb the life force of Soul Beasts. They are led by a disgraced Soul Master in Training, Yu Xiao Gang, who was disregarded as a janitor all while studying Soul Masters and developing his own radical theories as to the nature of their power.

Tang San, Xiao Wu, Yu Xiao Gang, and the other friends they meet along the way will become a famous team of heroes known as the “Seven Devils of Shrek Academy”, and be drawn into an imperial struggle for power that threatens to consume their entire continent.

Tang San appears to the world as the master of the Silver Grass Spirit, but once that same world realizes the might of the Weapon Spirit he keeps hidden, he will have to fight with everything he has in order to protect what he holds dear.

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Fairyland Lovers

Bai Qi is a “spiritual doctor” who travels the world to rid spirits of their obsessions and stop them from becoming monsters. Eons ago he himself was at the threshold of becoming an Evil Spirit, and was saved by a Divine Warrior who helped him find a way to move past his darkness before tragically losing her life.

Isolated from the world and alone with a sprig of his lost love’s peach tree, Bai Qi meets the sunny but hapless actress Lin Xia. Not only does the tree come to life in her presence- and not only can she use the tools left behind by his lost lover- she also has the same face.

Curious, Bai Qi enters into a co-habitation agreement with Lin Xia and she helps him cleanse souls before they can turn into Evil Spirits. As their lives intersect, a memory that Bai Qi sealed away for over ten thousand years begins to surface.

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Guardian

Super-Detective Zhao Yunlan meets university professor (and powerful supernatural being) Shen Wei and the two men are instantly drawn together by a past one cannot forget and a future the other cannot guess. As they grow closer, they find themselves at the heart of a high-stakes supernatural battle between unknown enemies.

Will the heroic duo’s unique talents- and special bond- be enough to help them outwit the forces of darkness?

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Handsome Siblings (2020 Netflix Edition)

Hua Wuque is a pillar of righteousness and virtue, the only male disciple of the powerful Yihua Palace cultivation clan. An orphan, he was taken in by the clan leader and her sister and raised with only one goal in life: to find and kill Jiang Xiaoyu, a mighty villain and enemy of Yihua Palace.

So who is Jiang Xiaoyu? Also known as Xiaoyu’er, Jiang Xiaoyu is an orphan himself- the same age as Hua Wuque in fact- raised by the five most feared and hated villains in the world within the confines of the Wicked Canyon. Into Jiang Xiaoyu the villains poured their knowledge, tricks, and ruthlessness, seeking to create the ultimate villain. There is only one problem: As he was raised in the Wicked Canyon and surrounded by nothing but villains, Jiang Xiaoyu mostly uses his abilities to… harm villains and protect the weak.

When Jiang Xiaoyu comes of age and leaves the Wicked Canyon (or rather, becomes too much of a trickster for the villains to handle anymore), Hua Wuque is unleashed to venture from Yihua Palace and hunt down his enemy.

But how could someone kept confined in the Wicked Canyon for the first 18 years of his life be a threat to Yihua Palace? And why must Hua Wuque be the one to kill him (under direction that Jiang Xiaoyu cannot die naturally, be killed by someone else, or kill himself)?

There is a piece of the story Jiang Xiaoyu and Hua Wuque do not know: they are orphans of the same tragedy, in which the divine hero Jiang Feng spurned the love of both leaders of Yihua Palace for a beautiful servant named Hua Yuenu. Hua Yuenu was forced to commit suicide and Jiang Feng killed himself rather than submit to the Ladies of Yihua–

Leaving behind newborn (non-identical) twin sons.

Yihua Palace’s plot is a simple (if OTT) act of vengeance against Jiang Feng’s memory:: Force one brother to murder the other, then reveal to Hua Wuque the sin he has committed and let it drive the boy insane.

Will the truth come out before Wuque finds and kills Xiaoyu, or will the evil Ladies of Yihua Palace finally have the vengeance they have waited for for over 18 years? As Wuque and Xiaoyu’s paths cross more and more they strike up an unlikely friendship, even knowing there is no escaping their dark fate.

**Trigger Warning: Later episodes include off-camera sexual assault and on-camera depictions of near-rape.**

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Hi My Sweetheart

Xue Hai is a kindhearted (and extremely wealthy) but naïve man who has been sheltered by his big sisters his entire life. He decides to go to college in China- where no one knows him- under the name Da Lang and with the image of a poor scholarship student. There Xue Hai meets the dominant, friendless, and rebellious Bao Zhu. Naturally the two fall in love, but after 4 years together, just as he’s going to reveal his identity and propose, Bao Zhu viciously dumps him.

Fast forward three more years. Xue Hai has transformed himself into a handsome but ruthless playboy who treats women as nothing more than toys to be used and cast aside. When he chances across Bao Zhu once more, he decides to launch a campaign to destroy her heart as thoroughly and mercilessly as she did his.

Except Xue Hai is missing one important piece of their love story: Bao Zhu only left him to protect him from her domineering mother, and she has been searching for her beloved Da Lang ever since.

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The King’s Avatar

In the online multiplayer game Glory, Ye Xiu is well known as the undisputed master of professional sports- though no one outside of the professional teams actually knows what he looks like as he hides his face from media and fans. A player since he was a child- and raised largely in professional player training camps- Ye Xiu has no understanding of the outside world.

Halfway through the season, the money-hungry company behind his team, Excellency Era, forces him out and replaces him with an undisciplined hot-shot. Penniless and with nowhere to go, Ye Xiu crosses the street and enters the Happy Internet Cafe. The owner is a diehard fan of the mysterious Ye Xiu, and hires Ye Qiu as an IT manager not for his experience, but for his shared love of the game.

When Glory launches their tenth server, Ye Qiu throws himself into the game once more. Equipped with ten years of gaming experience, memories of an unfinished pledge to a dead friend, and an incomplete self-made weapon, Ye Qiu will rise from the ashes, forge a new team, and take back his crown.

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The Lost Tomb**

50 years ago, a group of Changsha grave robbers known as the “Mystic Nine” dug out manuscripts of the location of treasures from the Warring States period, but soon after almost the entire group was hunted down and slaughtered.

In the present, the young grandchild of the sole survivor, Wu Xie, discovers a secret within his grandfather’s notes as well as half of a silk manuscript that may reveal the location of the lost tomb. But there is one problem- the other half of the manuscript is held by a shady organization of tomb raiders eager to break in and steal whatever cultural relics are inside the tomb.

Wu Xie has a “National Treasure” moment and decides that in order to stop the objects in the tomb from vanishing into the black market he will break in first and recover whatever is inside (’I’m going to steal the Declaration of Independence…’).

Wu Xie is helped on his journey by his beloved “Third Uncle” Wu Sanxing, his uncle’s right hand man Panzi, and the mysterious Xiao Ge - a tomb raider who seems to know of traps before they are sprung and whose hand has been mutilated in a way not seen among tomb robbing families in over a century.

They expected to find a lost tomb, perhaps chase away some thieves, and learn about an exciting piece of lost history. What they did not expect was for the tomb to strike back, the dead to rise, and the past to fight and keep what secrets it holds.

Who exactly are this alternate group of tomb robbers? What are they searching for? What exactly is protecting the tomb? Whose side is Xiao Ge truly on? And- most crucially- can Wu Xie survive long enough to find the answers?

** This recommendation is part of a broader series of shows and movies, all adapted from “The Gravedigger’s Notebook” and its sequels::

The Lost Tomb (2015)

The Lost Tomb 2: Explore With the Note (2016)

Time Raiders (2016 movie)

The Mystic Nine (2016)

Tomb of the Sea (2018)

Reunion: The Sound of the Providence (which gets its own recommendation below; 2019-2020)

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Love O2O

** O = letter, not number

Wei-Wei has both beauty and brains. A computer goddess, she aspires to be an online game developer. In her spare time, she plays her favorite online game ‘A Chinese Ghost Story’- where she has made a name for herself as the top female player on the entire server.

After her online husband dumps her, she gets a message from legendary player Yixiao Naihe- asking to become her online husband (marriages in-game offer certain benefits and quest lines single players cannot achieve).

Little does Wei-Wei know that Yixiao Naihe is also her college senior and the most desired man on campus, Xiao Nai.

Will their online chemistry lead to a real-life romance? Yes. Of course it will. It’s in the title.

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Miss The Dragon

As a humble maid, Liu Ying never expected her life to be anything other than ordinary. Content with the world and her place in it, she spent her days tending to injured creatures and assisting her mistress Xia Hou Xue. But when Liu Ying finds an injured little snake and nurses it back to health, she has no idea how her life is about to change.

That little snake turns out to be a thousand year old Draong King named Yu Chi Long Yan. He falls in love with Liu Ying, and decides to repay her kindness by naming her as his queen.

And then Xia Hou Xue is captured by a wolf demon. Liu Ying flips the script- begging Yu Chi Long Yan to repay her kindness instead by rescuing her mistress and then keeping her safe for three lifetimes. Trapped by his word, Yu Chi Long Yan agrees to do so, though he secretly remains by Liu Ying’s side.

Now in her fourth lifetime, Liu Ying is reincarnated as Gu Qing Yan. She slowly becomes aware of his existence in her life- and her past lives as well. After waiting three lifetimes to be reunited with his lost love, Yu Chi Long Yan will fight with everything he has to keep her safe and get the Happily Ever After they should have had three thousand years ago.

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My Roommate is a Detective

Shanghai in 1925 is caught between gang leaders and the European powers colonizing China.

A resourceful young police officer named Qiao Chu Sheng is on the trail of a brutal but devious killer. Realizing that the police force will need some extra help with this difficult case, he decides to form an elite crime-busting detective team. He reaches out Lu Yao, a Cambridge graduate a slick con-man.

Qiao Chu Sheng has learned that Lu Yao has remarkable powers of deduction and a brilliant mind – and believes he can help crack this difficult case. To round off the team, he enlists the help of Bai You Ning, a focused young female reporter for a daily newspaper. A free-thinking, independent young woman, she has a strong sense of justice – and pledges to help catch the killer.

The trio form a small detective squad that specializes in solving strange and unsettling murder mysteries.

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Oh My Emperor

Fei-Fei, a young doctor, is wounded in an accident and finds herself trapped in the ancient and mystical nation of Huang Dao. The people of Huang Dao are ruled by a king born of the stars- the physical embodiment of one of the twelve zodiac constellations. To keep discord from arising among the people, the Twelve Zodiac Masters govern together to keep the peace.

But a thirteenth sign has been forcibly subjugated, it’s Lord executed, and its people scattered to the wind. The lost sign- Ophiuchus- is rising once more- and Fei-Fei is its (unwilling) Master.

It only complicates matters slightly that Fei-Fei finds herself between the handsome and charming Master of Aquarius and his nephew- the cold Master of Capricorn (who is also the Emperor). Can Fei-Fei keep her identity secret long enough to solve the mystery of the Ophiuchus purge- or is Huang Dao doomed to destruction?

**This drama is a showpiece for members of the Chinese pop group X-Nine, do not judge it by the same standards as a traditional drama. Showpiece dramas tend to be a bit silly.

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Reunion: The Sound of the Providence**

Wu Xie, “Fatty” Wang Pangzi, and the quasi-immortal tomb raider Xiao Ge (AKA Zheng Qiling, Kylin, and “Poker Face”) have faced many dangerous tombs together over the past twelve years.

Now, it is time for them to go on their last great adventure as the so-called “Iron Triangle” before Wu Xie sets off on the journey all must eventually make: death. He always thought his end would come in a dangerous tomb, but instead it will be lung cancer that claims his life. With only 3-4 months left to live, Wu Xie hides the truth of his illness from his friends and family, revealing the truth only to Xiao Ge.

Once upon a time, Wu Xie was told that when a man meets his death he must do so with a clear conscience. But something has been weighing on Wu Xie- his Third Uncle’s disappearance at the end of their first adventure. Right on time, a message from his long lost uncle appears, setting Wu Xie on a desperate mission to find him before the cancer eating away at his body destroys him at last.

This will most likely be Wu Xie’s final journey, but he will do anything in his power to make sure his friends and family will be safe long after his time is up. In the final 3-4 months of Wu Xie’s life he will seek to unravel the mystery of the “Thunder City”- starting with the most dangerous tomb he’s ever explored, The South Sea King’s Tomb.

The sound of thunder hides a secret men have killed for, but is there really a way to hear the words of gods within it? Someone clearly thought so, but who? Is Uncle Sanxing still alive, or is someone in the shadows guiding Wu Xie to them?

Wu Xie’s enemies thought he was dangerous before, but now he is a dying man with a mission. There is no telling what lengths he will go to in order to achieve his goals. He might just manage to die in a tomb after all…

** This recommendation is just the latest installment in an entire series of stories adapted from “The Gravedigger’s Notebook” and related novels::

The Lost Tomb (2015)

The Lost Tomb 2: Explore With the Note (2016)

Time Raiders (2016 movie)

The Mystic Nine (2016)

Tomb of the Sea (2018)

Reunion: The Sound of the Providence (2019-2020)

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The Romance of Tiger and Rose

Chen Xiao Qian has dedicated her life to making her dream of becoming a well-respected screenwriter come true. Standing on the production set of sweeping dramas she penned through endless blood, sweat, and tears, Xiao Qian can hardly believe what she is seeing: her work, come to life!

Except it isn’t a set. And her work truly has come to life.

Her script is a simple one: the heirs of two rival cities who seek to destroy one another enter into a doomed romance that will lead to endless betrayals and a war that will kill the male lead, Han Shuo.

There is just one problem- Xiao Qian wakes in the body of Han Shuo’s first wife on the day he will murder her! The only way for Xiao Qian to return to this world is to survive the story, but in keeping herself alive longer the script begins to change, and Han Shuo begins to fall in love with the wrong person.

At first it is easy for Xiao Qian to keep herself alive- just go along with the script! But the story wants to return to the original plot, which means characters who should be friends become enemies, enemies become friends, and Xiao Qian might not live long enough to find her way home.

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The Untamed

On the cliffs of the Nightless City, upon defeating his enemies in a bloody slaughter, the cruel and vicious Yiling Patriarch- Wei Wuxian- threw himself to his death.

Sixteen years later, he is resurrected by a madman and given a second chance to right what went so terribly wrong long ago. Wei Wuxian reunites with the honorable, righteous, and stern Lan Wangji- his confidant, soulmate, and best friend.

How can someone as upstanding as Lan Wangji befriend the monstrous and hated Yiling Patriarch? What turned the happy and popular Wei Wuxian into the man who slaughtered thousands at Nightless by weaponizing the souls of the dead?

And what terrible secret was Wuxian resurrected to unearth?

The past is not always what it seems, and there is no clean line between right and wrong.

**Don’t worry if you’re lost when the show starts, that is by design. Near the end of episode 2 the show will enter a 30 episode long flashback sequence to answer all questions.

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Well Intended Love (Season 1: Drama Version)

Seasons 1 and 2 of “Well Intended Love” feature the same stars playing the same characters, but the storylines are alternate-universes of one another telling the story from a different genre. Each season is wholly independent of one another.

A third-rate actress with leukemia becomes entangled with the handsome but cold CEO Ling.

In order to receive a bone marrow transplant and contniue her career as an actress, Xia Lin enters into a secret marriage with Ling Yi Zhou. Despite the conspiracies and misunderstandings they encounter, the two begin to find true love.

But one question nags at Xia Lin’s mind:: Why did the cold, controlling, and distant Ling YiZhou need her to play the role of wife?

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Well Intended Love (Season 2: Rom-Com Version)

Seasons 1 and 2 of “Well Intended Love” feature the same stars playing the same characters, but the storylines are alternate-universes of one another telling the story from a different genre. Each season is wholly independent of one another.

Rising TV superstar Xia Lin finds herself embroiled in scandal after a run-in with business mogul Ling Yizhou at a party. To clear up any misunderstandings the two prepare a joint press conference– where Xia Lin is stunned by Ling Yizhou’s statement that the two are- in fact- an engaged couple.

Ling Yizhou convinces Xia Lin to play fiancee for a period of one year, after which they can go their separate ways. To save face in front of her fans, Xia Lin agrees. She gradually begins to fall for the lovable and doting Ling Yizhou.

Someone works in the shadows to destroy everything Ling Yizhou holds dear- and the closer he gets to the heart of the conspiracy, the more he realizes Xia Lin may have a target on her back as well.

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Word of Honor // Faraway Wanderers

Zhou Zi Shu has served as the leader of Heaven’s Window for much of his life. A once righteous and honorable sect who acted as an elite Secret Service for the royal family, a corrupt prince has turned them into his personal assassin’s guild. With their oaths to Heaven’s Window as nooses around their throats, most of Zhou Zi Shu’s elders and friends have chosen death over continued service.

Wholly disillusioned, Zhou Zi Shu only wants to atone for the crimes he was forced to commit under his oaths to the prince. He endures the slow execution of Heaven’s Window- a process that sees seven nails inserted into the victim and ushers in a slow and painful death that takes three years to play out.

By gaming the system he helped create, Zhou Zi Shu manages to buy himself an extra year and a half of life to wander the world and wipe some of the blood from his slate.

In his wanderings, he is pulled into a conspiracy surrounding a young boy and meets a strange young man named Wen Ke Xing who sticks to him like glue. Zhou Zi Shu and Wen Ke Xing grow closer and closer throughout their journey to find a mysterious treasure that is rumored to give its owner unlimited power.

But just who is Wen Ke Xing? What is he really after? And most importantly of all- can Zhou Zi Shu really trust his new companion?

[hopetwink]

Fic Analysis: Yellow Somethings

Yellow Somethings by @kidcarma

I’ve been in a creative rut lately, so one of the things I’m doing in the meantime is analyzing my favorite fics written by friends and/or acquaintences. This work was one of the first that came to mind, so it’s the first one I wrote an in-depth character analysis for. 

Some people tell me I’m scarily good at psychoanalyzing both fictional characters and authors, so I’m harnessing that ability here in hopes it’ll give both you guys (and maybe also me) a greater appreciation for these well-written works. 

So yeah, enjoy!

When I first read this work, one thing that immediately stood out to me was the dialogue. Good dialogue can stand on its own. If we cut out everything except the first exchange of dialogue between Hinata and Komaeda, the strength of this dialogue becomes evident.

“I hate you.”

“I can live with that.”

As any skilled writer knows, well-written first lines are crucial to the allure of a story. The first line must not only be an enticing hook, but an informative and non-expositional string of words that give the reader a strong sense of the work as a whole. It instantly sets the tone for a piece, allowing us to get a sense of where the characters are now, and what direction they’re going in. 

The author’s choice to make the first line a piece of dialogue tells us they want to plunge us headfirst into the story. In fanfiction, which cannot exist without source material to draw from, it’s safe to assume one’s audience already knows a great deal about the canon lives and fates of the characters the story explores. It’s a nice shortcut that lets writers avoid having to excessively recap the events of the canon storyline, but the way this particular author makes use of this shortcut is significant. The intensity of the language they chose to use serves another purpose--to give the reader exactly what they promised the fic would contain in the summary, notes, and tags, and knock anyone who isn’t ready to read it off balance. 

In less than a hundred words, Komaeda confronts Hinata with intensely negative feelings that most people wouldn’t hesitate to take at face value, and Hinata makes it clear that regardless of if Komaeda truly hates him, he has no intention of abandoning him. 

‘Hate’ is a funny emotion; you can’t hate someone and be indifferent to them at the same time. To hate someone is to care about them, though even the mere suggestion that we care for the people we hate on some level is uncomfortable and counterintuitive. So yes, Komaeda’s telling the truth, he does hate Hinata. I don’t think he holds Hinata’s past against him; that would not only be unfair, but go against Komaeda’s efforts to promote and embody hope. Lingering on a past full of despair instead of looking towards the future does nothing to further the great cosmic goals of hope. 

Komaeda wouldn’t hate Hinata over something so broad and vague; no, the reason Komaeda hates Hinata is simple: Hinata’s the only one who isn’t fazed by Komaeda’s delusions, and he refuses to give Komaeda the dignity of rotting away in peace. 

In taking care of Komaeda, Hinata forces him to confront every last ounce of shame in his body, because somebody decided he was worth keeping alive, worth helping to heal and protect, when that goes against what he thinks with every fiber of his being. He has to sit helplessly and watch as Hinata emotionally strips him down and sees what he believes to be the ugliest parts of himself, the ones that he genuinely would rather die before willingly showing them to someone else, and being subjected to such humiliation at the hands of someone with good intentions is too much for him to bear. 

The only remotely empowering emotion he can cling to at the moment is bitterness, which enables him to find little ways to resist Hinata’s attempts to nurse him back to health at every turn. 

We see him try to reclaim some leverage in their power dynamic when he attempts to psychoanalyze Hinata and determine the reason he hasn’t given up on Komaeda yet through quips like “you do this because you feel bad” and “is it because the image of my dead body lives on in your mind.” Komaeda cannot allow Hinata to see him be vulnerable, because if he does, all the effort he put into building an impenetrable wall around his heart over the past fifteen or so years will have been for nothing. 

This feature of the fic is only made more poignant by the fact that it’s written from Hinata’s perspective--we don’t see what Komaeda is thinking or feeling, only his words and actions. But we see Hinata’s, which brings me to another underlying message: sometimes love isn’t gentle. Sometimes love isn’t soft and sweet, or pretty. Hinata loves Komaeda, even if he himself doesn’t realize or understand it. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t bother. He would’ve simply walked out of Komaeda’s hospital room the first time he refused to take his medicine. And he didn’t do that. He would never do that, not to Komaeda.

Hinata’s love for Komaeda is reflected in the yellow flowers he leaves next to his hospital bed, and that is why we catch a glimpse of his frustration when Komaeda breaks it. But in a way, this is a good thing--as Hinata begins to open up about his emotions, the pair move further away from their cycle of codependency and towards something closer to a symbiotic relationship. Perhaps someday, instead of needing to need each other, they will be able to love each other with no strings attached. 

This is what makes Komaeda’s decision to replace the flowers in Hinata’s vase much more significant than it appears on the surface--not only is it a gesture of goodwill and apology, but a sign that Komaeda is finally taking initiative in their relationship. No longer will Hinata have to carry both of their burdens; Komaeda is willing and able to reciprocate the love and effort Hinata has selflessly given him. 

The fic ends on Hinata doing some much needed introspection, and eventually coming to the conclusion that he isn’t happy with the way his life has turned out. Because, despite everything he’s been through, all the knowledge, talent, and skill he’s gained, and the external validation he’s received from his friends, it’s not enough. What Hinata wants is a purpose beyond caring for Komaeda. One day Komaeda will be fully recovered and then Hinata will have no other meaningful task to do, and nothing to distract himself from his inner turmoil. 

What Hinata needs is to see himself as inherently valuable, and he’s incapable of doing that until he learns to forgive himself. Right now, he’s not ready to accept his or Komaeda’s forgiveness yet, but deep down he knows that’s the only way to pull himself out of the pit of self-loathing he’s buried in.

Perhaps I’m reading too deeply into this clean, clear-cut fic, but I highly doubt the author went into this scenario with little to no knowledge of both Hinata and Komaeda’s mental predicaments. The underlying whispers of each character’s desire to love and be loved, to feel something--anything--when they’re too numb to care, is not a dynamic that an unskilled writer would be able to execute so gracefully. 

At the very least, Carmen has quite the natural aptitude for extracting the real life emotions they and others around them experience, and at the most, they have done extensive research involving both outside sources and (multiple) character studies. Regardless of whether either or both are true, I’m extremely impressed at how well they’ve managed to nurture the seeds of creativity in their mind, and I look forward to more opportunities to explore their works with in-depth analyses.

[meterokinesis]

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 12,032

Fandom: Batfamily, DC Comics

Characters: Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, Tam Fox, OFC, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Fasir Nasser

Pairings: Tim Drake & Ra’s al Ghul, Tim Drake & Tam Fox

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Chose not to use archive warnings

Tags: Canon divergence, Lazarus Pit, Lazarus Pit Madness, Evil!Tim Drake, Blood and Gore, Psychological Trauma, Survivor’s guilt, Unreliable narrator, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Post-Battle of the Cowl, Bruce is dead, Tim is not having a good time right now

Summary: When Tim Drake leaves to find Bruce, he doesn’t expect to get stabbed. He doesn’t expect to die. And he certainly doesn’t expect to be resurrected. However, the Tim who goes into the Lazarus Pit is not the same Tim who comes out. This Tim is ruthless and unguarded in a way he never was before. And when Ra's starts to take him under his wing... well, what's a disgraced Robin to do?

Author’s Note: This work is part of the Batfam Big Bang! (@batfam-big-bang) I couldn't have done this without my lovely betas, @bisexualoftheblade, @crystalinastar, and @houser-of-stories. There's also some amazing art for this fic that I’ll be posting soon!

Read it on AO3

The desert night was cool, with a breeze that shifted the sand beneath Tim’s feet like waves. The stars gleamed overhead, and for a second he was caught up in how clear the sky was. It had been years since he’d seen stars without a haze of light pollution around them.

Owens and Z were in front of him, his babysitters for the night. Pru was off to his left, fiddling with the safety on her gun. The ride here had been as light-hearted as was possible, given the circumstances, but that jovial tone had ended quickly. Their off-roader had died on them maybe half an hour before, and the small group was still huddled around the machine, waiting as Z checked the engine. Every few seconds, Pru glared at Tim, as if blaming him for the hold up. Though the others had made it very clear that this was a fool’s errand, Tim knew that Bruce was here, somewhere. He had to be, or Tim had thrown everything away for nothing.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? Tim might be the world’s greatest detective, now that Bruce was… out of commission. But his hunches could still be wrong. What if- no. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He would bring Bruce back, he had to.

“Hey, Drake, are you done brooding yet?” Pru’s voice echoed over the empty land. Tim huffed noncommittally and looked up to see the bald assassin twirling her gun on her finger.

“I’m a Bat. We’re never done brooding,” he quipped, before fiddling with the little radio receiver he had brought along. It didn’t do more than give off static when it was on, but having something to do with his hands helped.

Rolling her eyes, Pru gestured over to a precariously balanced pile of rocks. “Wanna see if I can hit the top one off without knocking over the others?”

Tim sighed heavily and dragged himself over to her, Owens trailing behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he even saw Z peek out from behind the hood to watch.

Squaring off, Pru brought up her gun and fired off a shot. To no one’s surprise, the top rock went flying and the others remained still, albeit with a slight wobble.

“Fuck yeah! Z, did you see…” She trailed off, her face blanching. Tim followed suit, only to be greeted with Z on the ground, chest bleeding in a way his medical training told him was too much. His brown eyes were already glassy, and his chest wasn’t moving anymore. It was then that the rest of the image came into focus, and Tim’s eyes finally latched onto the cloaked man holding two bloody swords.

“I am the Widower,” the man said, his voice low and bone-chilling. “And here I was, thinking you’d put up a fight.”

Tim drew his bo staff, eyes tracking Pru and Owens as they rushed toward the Widower, guns at the ready. He had barely taken a step, but they were already on the ground, Pru bleeding from a large gash in her neck and Owens trying in vain to keep pressure on the wound in between his ribs.

Quick--what were his weaknesses? No visible limps or injuries, no issues handling the weapons. He moved like a snake through grass, smooth and precise. The Widower’s blades gleamed in the moonlight, and Pru’s blood dripped onto the sand. Tim lashed out with his staff, catching one of the swords right as it flew toward his throat.

“I guess dead birdies tell no tales,” Widower whispered as he drove the second sword, the one Tim had forgotten about, into Tim’s stomach.

The vigilante staggered back, and fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. The blade slid out and even through the gloves of his suit, Tim could feel his blood, warm and sticky. Was this how he was going to die? Mission incomplete, estranged from his family, bleeding out into the desert sand? He had never assumed he would survive in this job, but he’d at least thought he’d die as Robin. Oh god, he was never going to be Robin again.

The ground rushed up to greet him, sand in his mouth and eyes and hair. He supposed that it didn’t matter--it’s not like corpses care anyway. With his last ounces of strength, he rolled onto his back. Somewhere, some last shred of knowledge told him that this would keep him from bleeding out, but deep down he knew it was too late. Tim just wanted the stars to be the last thing he saw.

As darkness encroached on the corners of his vision, his mind drifted back to Bruce. This was it. The only father figure he’d ever had, or at least the only one who liked him as he was, would be doomed to never return. And it was all Tim’s fault.

The afterlife was dark. And cold. Tim had never been religious, aside from that year of Hebrew school his parents insisted he take in middle school, but even he knew that this wasn’t right. It took a second, but the cold and dark sharpened into something Tim knew well, his kitchen at home. Well, at Drake Manor.

The marble countertops gleamed, as did the floors, and Tim recalled tiptoeing around in his early childhood, so not to dirty them. The kitchen--really, the whole house--had always felt like a mausoleum. Cold, impersonable. Lonely. In some ways, a lot like Tim.

He drifted through the house, looking pointedly away from the family portrait that hung above the fireplace. It had been painted a few months before his mom was killed, right after he became Robin. They all looked so stiff, like actors playing a family in a movie. Actually, actors would probably do a better job than they did. That portrait had been the first thing Tim had put in storage when his dad died.

The curtains were drawn, letting in the gray sunlight Gotham was so well-known for. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his lawn, except… not. Gravestones dotted the otherwise pristine lawn, some new and some old and worn. He hesitated at the door, fingertips just brushing the doorknob. He was dead, it wasn’t like he could get hurt. Maybe this was some kind of purgatory that he had to deal with before he could move on. He pushed against the door, anticipating the old hitch in the hinges that had been around for years.

The air held the same chill as the house, pulling at Tim’s breath. Front and center, practically in the doorway, was Bruce’s grave, the one they’d buried him in just over a month ago. But now the death date was scratched out, in its place a sticker like the ones Tim used to put on his skateboard. It read: Eternally Damned To Disappointment. It’d sound like the name of a band Tim might’ve listened to, if he didn’t know that the disappointment was in him.

The next grave was older, cracked and crumbly. The ground in front of it was disturbed, and dried blood streaks marked the bottom of the headstone. Here lies Jason Todd. Well, that didn’t last long. And unlike Jason, Tim knew he wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t that lucky.

Next was Steph, or at least the grave she pretended to fill. It was covered in flowers, some of them bouquets Tim had left himself. Tim had spent hours in front of it, telling her how much he missed her and loved her, praying for the first and last times. When she came back… well, they were more distant than he would’ve liked. That wasn’t Steph’s fault, at least not entirely, but it did make him wonder. What if he never took back the mantle? Would this have been easier? He could’ve been a semi-normal teenager, living with his dad and stepmom, mourning his girlfriend and being blissfully unaware of the shitshow that was heroism. But he wouldn’t have been happy.

And speak of the devil, there’s his parents’ graves, right next to each other. It was almost funny how they were closer in death than in life. A boomerang was lodged in his father’s gravestone, with an old flip phone opened at the base. It listed Tim’s number as the last call. His mother’s had a sticky substance that a voice deep inside Tim told him not to touch. He lingered at these graves for a moment, breath caught in his throat. It’s not that he didn’t miss his parents--he did. But he had only known a piece of them, only just deeper than surface level. They weren’t parents as much as guardians with high expectations. And for the most part, he had met or exceeded every goal they gave him. But it never was enough. There was always another class to ace or language to learn or party to schmooze at. Worst of all, they were cold. If Tim was the chill night air, his parents were Antarctica.

The next grave stopped him in his tracks. Bart. One of his best friends, his ally in all things. Gone, but not in the way Bruce or Steph were. Bart wasn’t coming back. There would be no more Hawaiian pizza and donuts shared over a comic book, or sleepovers on the floor of Mount Justice. No more Wendy the Werewolf Stalker Marathons. There was no more Bart, and it stung in a way that Tim didn’t have a name for.

He turned around, expecting that to be the end of it, but there it was. Conner. All at once, the weight of the world fell on Tim’s shoulders, like his own personal Kryptonite. His best friend, someone he had been more than a little in love with once upon a time. He knew Conner was safe now, alive and saving people once again. Without Tim. Conner’s death had been the one that broke him, more than any of the others. Because if Conner Kent, Superboy and heartbreaker extraordinaire, hadn’t made it, what chance did Tim have? Well, obviously not much. How was Conner going to take this? He wasn’t like Tim, this was the first time he’d be alone.

Aren’t you tired of losing the ones you love? Aren’t you tired of being the one left behind? A quiet voice murmured in the back of his skull.

Yes. No. Yes. A sob tore from Tim’s chest, and his hand flew to his mouth. This was so stupid. He had dealt with loss before. Hell, the past year had been one unending funeral. Of course he was tired, who wouldn’t be?

This had to be Hell, but that felt like even more of a betrayal. Even Jason had made it to Heaven. Was this his punishment for toeing the line? Had he not suffered enough? Biting back another sob, Tim ran blindly toward the door, slamming it shut behind him in a way that would’ve made his mother shriek. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his living room anymore, but the Batcave. Even with his eyes full of tears, he would know it anywhere. And there was Dick in the Batsuit. And the demon in his Robin gear. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Dick looked up, expression weary.

“Tim, I already told you. Bruce isn’t coming back. I’m Batman now, and that means I get to choose the Robin. It’s about time you accept that.” It sure sounded like Dick. “Besides, it’s not like you were doing a great job anyway. You let Batman be killed on the job.” Damian sneered, leaning against Dick’s chair like a bully in a high school rom com.

“That-That’s not my fault!” Tim cried, heart pounding in his ears.

“Look, there’s an heir and a spare. There’s a new Robin now, you can be whatever you’re calling yourself now. Go do whatever you have to on this suicide mission, but leave Gotham out of it.”

Damian smiled like a demonic cherub. “Yes, Drake. Not even Grayson wants you anymore, if he ever did.”

Tim stood in shocked silence, unable to find words. Sure, Dick was focused on Damian, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care anymore. After all, they were brothers, right?

He’s taken the only thing you had left. Don’t you want revenge? He took your mantle, you should take it back. The voice sounded like Tim, but contorted--like it would on a recording.

Tim--no, not Tim, something else--reached back for the bo staff. As his hand gripped the metal, something flew toward him, hitting him directly in the stomach where he had been stabbed. It clattered to the floor, and through his pain, Tim realized it was a Batarang.

Don’t you want more, Timothy Drake-Wayne? It coaxed.

Yes.

The new Timothy Drake-Wayne took his first breaths in a cave deep in the Iraqi desert, hundreds of miles away from the house and the graves that had haunted his dream. It was cold here, nearly as cold as that dream had been. If he was in Hell, it would be hotter, wouldn’t it?

Tim swallowed hard and pushed himself up. His stomach, where he was pretty sure he had just been stabbed, was free of wounds or scarring. If anything, he felt stronger than he had before. As his feet touched the stone cold floor, he took note of the ninjas scattered around the room. Okay, so he was back at the League. They must have… The prior strength he had felt disappeared as his legs gave out. Normally he would have rolled or caught himself or something, but his gaze was fixed on the other side of the room, where a glowing green pit resided.

Oh, no.

No weapons, outnumbered, barely able to stand. The disadvantages stacked up before his eyes, screaming that there was no hope of him getting out of this one. Not to mention that he was probably already on his way to insanity. Fuck, the last time he’d seen Jason, the former Robin had almost killed him. Would Tim end up like that, homicidal and cruel?

He struggled to his feet, clutching the stone table for support. He could take out two, maybe three, if he just stopped thinking. He was trained for this, he could--

“Hello there, Detective,” a cold voice purred, quiet but deafening in the silent room. A chill hovered under Tim’s skin. It had been a long time since he’d last heard that voice. Detective? Isn’t that what he calls your mentor? There was the voice again, the only remaining fragment of the dream.

Ra’s al Ghul was one of those people who intimidated you just by existing in the same space. He reminded Tim of every strict teacher and cruel board member and snotty dinner party guest all rolled up into one. Oh, and he was the leader of the world’s largest assassin guild. That was important too.

“Did you find what you were looking for, Timothy?” Ra’s said in the same tone.

The teenager opened his mouth, then closed it again, searching for words. “No,” he managed to force out. “No, I didn’t.”

Are you sure?

Ra’s smiled, like a predator that had just gone for the killing blow. “Well, I suppose that you will have more than enough time to complete your quest during your stay with us.” And just like that, he turned, a group of ninjas peeling off to escort him back to whatever pit of Hell he’d crawled from. “If you need anything, ask for the White Ghost. Welcome to the Cradle, Detective.” And just like that, he was gone.

Tim was only alone with his thoughts for a minute before a tall man with alabaster skin and medieval-style chainmail entered the cavern.

Okay, so this was the White Ghost impersonator. The League wouldn’t kill someone they’d just resurrected, so maybe once he was alone he could escape? Go back to Gotham and see Dick and Sebastian and Zoanne one last time before he truly went insane, then start going to that therapist Dick recommended. He could make it through this, he wouldn’t end up like Jason--

And then in walked Tam Fox, looking terrified but for the most part unharmed. And all of Tim’s plans came crashing down.

Tam was a civilian, and a Wayne Enterprises employee to boot. Her life, and his identity, were in danger now. He was both her only savior and her greatest danger. New plan: listen to this knockoff White Ghost, do whatever it takes to gain their trust, then make it out with Tam at the first possible chance. And do it all without going off the deep end.

Easy. Not.

“I am the White Ghost,” the shitty cosplayer said, his chainmail clinking as he moved.

“Isn’t he dead?” Tim murmured under his breath. He’d definitely seen Dusan die. But if Tim was still alive, then maybe…

“There has always been a White Ghost,” the older man responded, as if that answered anything. “Now, it is time you and your guest retired to your quarters.”

Tam looked over at Tim, big brown eyes wide with fear. He nodded once, tried to conjure a press conference smile, and allowed them to be led to lavish bedchambers. They looked like beautiful, windowless prisons.

The next few weeks blended into their own lethal monotony. Tam stayed in her room all day and Tim went to meetings with various members of the League’s regime. It was a little like working at Drake Industries or Wayne Enterprises, just with more murder. A lot more murder. But the meetings were easy enough, and Tim soon found himself getting to know the people he once despised. He didn’t like them by any means, but he wasn’t terrified anymore.

He kept looking for Bruce. The desert gave no answers.

Tam didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push too hard. She had to know everyone’s identities by now, didn’t she? Tim was just one Robin-shaped piece of the puzzle. Here he was, in the desert, yet another failed Robin. His whole tenure, he’d been trying to live up to Jason Todd, and now in a sick way he had. Wearing Jason’s uniform, having been resurrected the same way, he now dreaded catching up to the boy who had once been his hero.

On nights when he cried silently into the silk sheets, trying to forget the way Jason had looked when he first came back to Gotham, the voice soothed: You can be greater than he ever was. You can outshine all of the others. You will be remembered when they are dust.

The desert was cold. There was no comfort here.

His bedchamber was nice enough. There was a large bed with silk sheets and gold accents and an ensuite bathroom. A large mirror took up the space where a window might have once been, like some sort of philosophical conundrum that Tim was too tired to try to unpack. There was a small passageway between his room and Tam’s, and if Tim was just a little more naive he would have believed that the League forgot about it when they placed him in this room. But he knew better. The League never forgot a thing.

Sometimes Tim caught himself in the mirror and for a second he swore his blue eyes looked green. Tam came in the next morning to glass littering the floor and cuts covering Tim’s hands. She said nothing while she helped him wrap up his knuckles.

Tim had always been adaptable. It’s easier than the constant push and shove of rebellion. When his parents told him to take those classes and join these clubs, he did. When he was instructed to give impromptu speeches at galas, he did. He put in the effort, he always had. He was never the best fighter and never would be, but he was smart and quick and brave. That had to mean something, right?

Maybe that’s why Ra’s al Ghul liked him so much.

The first time Ra’s al Ghul asked for a private meeting with Tim, the ground seemed to tilt under him. The well-trained vigilante tried not to show the fear in his eyes as his vision blurred and his heart thundered in his chest. But he went, because one did not say no to the Demon’s Head.

“Detective,” Ra’s began as he sat down at a large, stately desk that seemed out of place in the rest of the Cradle. The voices--he had taken to calling them whispers--that had been clogging Tim’s thoughts preened at the nickname, ignoring its former bearer.

“Tell me what you know about my grandson,” the assassin drawled, his fingers tapping on the desk rhythmically.

“Don’t you have spies for that?” Tim responded, not quite a retort but not an innocent question either. He’d seen enough of the League’s intel that it was clear how much they truly knew about the world outside the Cradle.

“Yes, but I’d prefer to hear it from someone… familiar with him. My eyes can only do so much from afar.”

Tim had no doubt that Ra’s knew everything about Damian: from the route he took to school to the cereal he ate for breakfast to how many times he pet Titus when he got home from school.

“He’s a brat.” Tim’s chagrin even took him by surprise, like it wasn’t really him talking. “He’s rude and inconsistent and incredibly immature. He’s aggressive and undisciplined. A sorry excuse for a Robin.”

And there it was, the green monster of jealousy rearing its head again. Yes, Damian had taken Robin from him unfairly, and yes, he was all of those things. But why did Ra’s care?

“I see. Would you describe him as a leader?”

“No. If anything, he’s a bully and a mama’s boy. Leaders need to be able to listen to others.” Where was he getting this? Damian was a kid, he could learn. He still had time.

“Interesting.” Ra’s rose from his chair and paced the edge of the room. Tim refused to look back and follow his movements. That would be a show of weakness, a drop of blood in a shark tank. “Detective, what do you have in Gotham? What do you have there that keeps you from dedicating yourself to your cause?”

Nothing.

Tim stifled a gasp as he thought of the instant response. Dick and Damian didn’t need him. Stephanie hadn’t called in months, even before Bruce died. Jason had tried to kill him, last they’d spoken. The Teen Titans were getting along just fine without him. Truthfully, the whispers were right. There was nothing left for him in Gotham. If there was, he would have stayed.

“Nothing.” The anymore went unsaid.

“Then I may have a proposal for you.” Ra’s eyes glowed a dangerous green. A pit formed in Tim’s stomach, as the last few vestiges of him that hadn’t sided with the voices screamed at him to just escape.

“Oh?” Tim responded, mouth bone-dry.

“Stay.”

And Tim’s world crumpled.

“Learn under my agents. Train to become better than you are. Continue your quest with my resources behind you. All you have to do is stay and work for me,” Ra’s smiled like a hunter who had just shot big game.

This was a terrible idea. Tim didn’t kill people, he refused. He was supposed to help people, not hurt them. But he couldn’t deny that feeling like he belonged again was incredibly enticing.

Tim opened his mouth, but Ra’s cut him off. “Your friend will not be harmed. I won’t even think about putting you on an assignment until you’re up to par with my best ninjas. I will not make this offer again.”

The voice that responded was not Tim’s own.

“Yes.”

Tim thought that six months of training with Bruce was brutal. Ha hadn’t known brutal until now.

His first day of training, he showed up in his Red Robin suit, now patched and reinforced where he had been stabbed.

The tall ninja that seemed to be in charge scoffed, then sent him away. Not fifteen minutes later, a tailor descended on Tim’s quarters with a tape measure and a face made of solid stone.

“Can’t have you looking like a target, all in red. What was Batman thinking?”

Maybe he wants them to be targets, Tim and the whispers thought in tandem. He balked at the thought, but the tailor’s firm hands kept him in place. What was he doing? Bruce had loved him, did love him. He had taken care of Tim when no one else would. Bile crawled through the back of Tim’s throat, but he swallowed it down.

The tailor finished her measurements and scanned Tim up and down.

“It will have to be black, of course. Reinforced joints, kevlar, the whole nine yards,” she stated in a lilting accent. “Maybe some green accents, dark ones. Classy. Half-mask, no more cowls or dominos.”

Red, yellow, and black were his colors and had been for years. A tribute to a boy he loved and lost then loved some more. But Conner was back now. And Tim was tired of mourning, especially when no one was dead. Well, except him.

“Green,” he agreed, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t Red Robin anymore, not really. And he could always wear the suit again. This wasn’t a finale, just a hiatus.

She nodded once and then swept away, leaving a teenager clutching the last thing he had of his old life. Tim folded the suit, the way Alfred had always chastised him for, and gingerly placed it in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. He wouldn’t need it anytime soon.

The next day, a precisely wrapped package sat outside Tim’s door bearing no signature. He knew exactly what it was.

Upon peeling back the paper, he saw the full glory of the new suit. It was midnight black, with dark green stitches that were beautiful up close, but would be near-invisible from far away. It looked like a cross between the ninjas’ garb and body armor--sleek and sure of itself. A hood was attached to the back of the neck, with the green stitching spelling out something Tim couldn’t discern. A half-mask with built in air filters covered the rest of the face. As he patted the suit down, he felt where all the separate compartments were for weapons and utilities. It reminded him a little of the costumes from high-tech spy movies.

Sitting on the floor with his new suit in his lap, Tim added another item to the long lists of debts he owed Ra’s al Ghul.

His first real day of training, Tim was beaten so badly he could hardly drag himself to his room.

It wasn’t that they had intended to hurt him, but he had gone almost a month without training. Bruises laced up his cheekbone like their own little domino mask, a little memento of times gone by. His joints screamed out in pain as he collapsed onto his bed. At least he hadn’t broken any bones. Or been stabbed. Or died.

Tim only had a few minutes to contemplate the stuntman funniest fails video that was his life when a gentle knock came from the door.

“Come in,” he groaned, flopping over onto his side so he could see his company. His mother would have scolded him for not standing up to greet a guest, but she didn’t have much sway from six feet under.

A girl with olive-tan skin and a brunette bun stepped into the threshold, her smile the gentlest thing he’d seen in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Aminta. I figured you could use some help with your wounds.” Her voice was lower than he expected, but pretty nonetheless. A dark, untraceable accent threaded through her words.

He peered up at her, frowning.

“Is this a hazing thing? Am I being hazed?”

She chuckled, then sat on the ottoman at the edge of his bed.

“Not hazing. The new recruits tend to help each other through the first few months. Safety in numbers and all that. I thought you might want some assistance.”

“So, you’re all friends?” That didn’t sound right.

“No,” she hesitated for a moment, “not exactly. Friends is too... common. We are assassins, but we have honor. When we need to, we take care of our own.”

Ah, so he was one of them now. For some indescribable reason, that didn’t fill him with as much dread as he thought it would.

You have no friends. You never did. Just those who you will rule and those who you will crush, the whispers added.

Tim smiled, the shy grin he used when he wanted teachers and Wayne Enterprises board members to underestimate him.

“Thank you, Aminta. I’d appreciate that. My name is Tim.”

She winked at him, clearly a joke.

“Believe me, I know.”

The League had a mole.

Or at least, they were going to. Tim had known enough corrupt businessmen in his time in Gotham’s upper echelon that he was well versed in the signs of someone double-dipping. At first it was little things: missing pieces of inventory, strange new guard shifts, incorrect mission intel. By the time it escalated to money being skimmed off the top of jobs, Ra’s was furious.

When he called Tim in for a meeting, something that was becoming increasingly normal these days, Tim was expecting fiery rage. Instead, there was steel-sharp cunning. It was a little like looking in a funhouse mirror.

“Detective, it appears that we have a liability in our ranks,” Ra’s began, his fingertips caressing a blade. “I assume you’ve read the data I sent to your quarters, and I’d like your thoughts.”

Tim cleared his throat. He had spent the night before reading the reports, putting together the pieces. If this was a test, it was a wicked one.

“The incidents began shortly after the attacks by the Widower. It’s a piece of misdirection intended to frame either Pru or I as a mole. However, neither of us has any reason for betrayal. Pru is, and has always been, loyal to the League. And you are well aware that I have nothing left for me in Gotham, nor would I be stupid enough to allow myself to get caught.” His voice was smooth, the prince of Gotham giving yet another speech.

“There is someone who has means, motive, and opportunity. After reading your files, it is incredibly clear. He has a family of his own that he is loyal to, and during my resurrection, he was not in the Cradle. His computer prowess would allow him to mess with the system in a way few others could. It would have been a very clean job, if he had spread it out over months or years instead of a few weeks.”

Ra’s stroked his goatee.

“You mean the Expediter.”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Ra’s rose from the desk and clasped his hands behind his back. “Now that we’ve established the perpetrator, it is time to establish the punishment.”

Ah, so here was the test. Ra’s wanted to see how ruthless Tim could be. It was a very good thing that Tim never failed an exam.

“Kill him. It will send a message to our other agents and whoever he worked for that we are not to be trifled with.” Tim’s hands shook, but his voice was full of conviction. He had always been a good actor, but it wasn’t clear how much was truth now.

“And his daughters?”

“Bring them to the Cradle. They’re young enough that they likely won’t remember him, and we’ll be able to shape their childhood. Perhaps one will become just as intelligent as her father, and wiser as well.” The whispers hissed wordlessly in disappointment, but it was worth it. Tim refused to order the execution of a child, no matter how loud the shrieking in his skull became.

There was a beat of dead silence, then Ra’s nodded sagely.

“Wise choice, Detective. I’ll put those orders into effect at once.” He smiled, his teeth gleaming as his dagger had. “I’m looking forward to the rest of our partnership.”

Oh, how the whispers laughed.

Life in the Cradle was, well, nice. Tim was training harder than he ever had, under much more strenuous conditions, yet he felt better than he ever had. He was stronger, for one thing, but for the first time since he’d discovered Batman and Robin’s identities, he was able to rest. He didn’t need to be up until dawn chasing people across rooftops or finishing reports or writing an essay for English class because he’d been too busy on patrol. Even in a den of killers, Tim felt almost safe.

That said, he refused to let his guard down. He’d sat in on meetings with the inner circle of the Cradle for months now, trying to use his famous brain for something important. Which for his purposes, meant destroying the League as best as possible.

That was the only reason he’d stayed, or at least that’s what he told himself during nights where he twisted and turned trying to justify his choices. He’d exploit the League’s generosity to train himself and find Bruce, then take it down. Bruce would have to be proud of him after that, they all would. Maybe he’d even be Robin again.

He’d already taken out the Expediter, Ra’s’ guy in the chair. The guy confessed to the mistake of having a family and trying to work for the League at the same time. Good thing Tim didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

This is good, but it is not enough. You crave more. Do not be a coward, take it.

Now Tim was the techie for an international assassin guild, which would look moderately impressive on a college resume. Maybe it could count as an internship. Ra’s seemed like the guy who would make a relatively okay reference when Harvard came calling.

It always felt strange when he had lunch with Ra’s. It was eerily similar to the fancy lunches his mom used to drag him to, or the etiquette classes he was forced to take where he learned how to properly use a melon baller. Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to be killed for using a melon baller wrong then. Now, he knew that any wrong move could result in death.

Not his own death, of course. There was no point in Ra’s bringing back Tim, just to kill him again. Tam, however, was expendable. And that made the marrow in Tim’s bones shiver.

This particular lunch was more focused on memory lane than shop talk.

“So, Detective, tell me: what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Tim swallowed hard around his tea sandwich, his throat suddenly painfully dry.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a clown. Not a great career path in Gotham,” he began, attempting to keep his voice light. Ra’s looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Then, I wanted to be a photographer. Then, my father said I would be a CEO or I’d be disowned, so I wanted to be a CEO. I could always do photography on the side, you know?

“And then I became Robin.” He let the weight of that sentence sink over the pair.

“So? What happened after that?”

Tim resisted the urge to stare at his sandwich, instead choosing to meet Ra’s’ bright green eyes.

“Then, I stopped thinking I would grow up.” There it was, the thing everyone had been trying to pry out of him for years.

“I mean, Dick barely made it out. Jason died, came back, went crazy, and now murders people for shits and giggles. Stephanie died, but only kinda. Damian’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide. In the wild, robins live for a year, maybe two if they’re lucky. I don’t think anyone realized how similar we all are to those stupid birds.” Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, but he didn’t need to cry. All that pain was gone now, replaced by something else. He couldn’t name it, but it kept all the sadness away.

Tim had been sad for his whole life. It was a relief when the roiling ocean inside him froze over. Numbness was an improvement.

Ra’s leaned across the table, his face barely a foot from Tim’s.

“You know, Detective, you remind me of myself. Not when I was young, of course, but when I had just begun to build my empire. All your life you have been told to quiet down and listen instead of speaking. You’re a fine leader because of it. You adapt when others are stubborn. You make plans while they push through without a second thought. You are a snake lying in wait, anticipating the right time to strike. I admire that.”

The air hung in silence as Ra’s stared directly into Tim’s soul.

“You know,” Ra’s finally said, “I think you could be truly great one day.”

Tim barely breathed as he nodded his thanks. When Ra’s finally leaned away, his first breath felt like the first gasp of air from a drowning victim.

“Before our lunch concludes, and I do so enjoy our lunches, I have a query for you.” This wasn’t out of the ordinary, Ra’s liked to give him riddles to keep him on his toes. “Some of our ninjas, though I will not say who, have gone rogue. A year or so ago, they got themselves caught up in some nasty business. My current intel places them here, in this compound, where they’re using innocents as collateral, should they not get what they request.”

“What do they want?”

“My head on a platter.” Ra’s’ smile was bloodchilling. “Oh, Detective? I feel it’s important to note: international news stations are currently reporting you and Ms. Fox as having been kidnapped by these rogues. Any advice on how to fix that?”

So this was the second test. Another chance to prove his loyalty. Let Ra’s’ enemies go free, or kill them and forfeit his old life for good in return.

“I assume extraction is not possible?”

“I’m afraid that those deserters are incredibly well trained. The special units from any nation’s army wouldn’t even make it into the compound. My ninjas could make it in, but there’s no way they could take out the traitors and save the civilians.”

Tim nodded, pretending to contemplate. He already knew his answer.

“Bomb the compound, kill everyone inside. It’s better to cut off the rot now than give it the chance to spread.”

Ra’s did not smile, but his eyes glimmered with pride.

“My thoughts exactly, Detective.”

And just like that, the death warrant was signed.

Tam was waiting in his chambers when Tim got home from a long day of training, his body littered in bruises and cuts that would sting tomorrow. Her crossed arms functioned as a hug, like she was the only thing keeping herself together.

“Tim,” she whispered when he came into view, the word like a prayer.

He glided across the room wordlessly, and she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“I managed to get someone to sneak me a newspaper. Th-They think we’re dead, Tim,” she said into his shoulder, words slightly muffled by the fabric.

His hand came up to stroke her hair, the way he used to comfort Cass after a particularly long day. Tim didn’t respond, and instead let her tears soak into his shirt.

Good. Now you have the element of surprise.

The Council of Spiders had a worthy namesake, as they were just as quick and deadly as any arachnid. Somehow they had crept past the League’s defenses, disabling the ninjas that got in their way. True to form, the assassins’ deaths were just as silent as they were--shadows fading out as dusk began to form.

Tim was preparing for another day of strategy and mind games when Aminta burst into the room.

“The Spiders are here. They managed to sneak in--no one knows how. You’re needed,” she gasped, as if she’d ran a marathon to deliver this message. Judging from her state of disarray, maybe she had.

“Tam?”

“I’ll protect her. Go!”

Tim didn’t have time to question these motives or worry about much more than tugging on his cowl and pulling out his bo staff. He sprinted out the door and into the madness, moving in a dangerous dance with the assassins he had trained alongside for the past few months. The League was good, great even. But with the element of surprise, the Spiders were better.

He couldn’t afford to think about what could happen if they lost. Failure was not an option, not anymore.

A shadow glided toward one of the empty hallways and away from the rest of the frenzy, a sword glinting in its hand. Something that had dug its claws deep in Tim’s bones pulled him toward the figure, urging him to follow. To finish the job.

If others saw red when enraged, Tim saw green.

The figure purposefully stalked toward the large office Tim had started to spend increasing amounts of time in. The footsteps were near-silent, but in his mind they echoed almost deafeningly loud.

The shadow had to know he was there. It had to. Tim was good, but a few months of training could never rival lifetimes.

The shadow glanced over its shoulder, a feline-esque smile on its face. It said something, probably a witty yet scathing remark, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of whispers in Tim’s mind.

Do it.

Finish the job.

Show them who you are, who you can be.

Prove yourself.

You are not a bird, you are not a bat.

You are a demon, and you do not know weakness.

Not a Robin, not Red.

You are Green, Green, Green.

Become who you were always destined to be, Detective.

Tim struck out with his bo staff, right into the shadow’s skull. It faltered, just for a millisecond, and that creature that was both Tim and not lashed out, quicker than it had any right to be. A dagger in his hand, sharpened to a razor-thin edge. He did not remember doing that. That same dagger, buried into deep tan flesh.

Then he was across the room, bones aching from being thrown into the stone wall. If he was still human, still able to rein in whatever was drowning out his senses, he would know to expect pain tomorrow. But he didn’t, and all he felt was the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

And he was up again, throwing himself at the shadow with the conviction of a greek hero who knew that this fight would be his last. A fist full of rings connected with his cheek, and he could feel the skin tear beneath the metal. Maybe it would even scar.

The shadow leaned heavily to one side, though whether it was from the stab placed between its ribs or a prior injury, Tim didn’t know. It lurched toward him, and he stabbed it again, this time twisting the dagger until he felt the give of a lung. The shadow was down now, and deep down Tim knew that he never should have beaten it, never should have landed a single blow. In a logical world, Tim would have lost ten times over. But in a logical world, Tim would have been dead for the past six months.

As if time was in slow motion but he was at normal speed, Tim glided through the seconds, pushing pressure points with the tip of his blade. The shadow’s sword lay across the hall, too far out of reach for retaliation. This wasn’t torture, but it was revenge--for pain and sacrifice and nights spent clawing at his own skin, wishing it still felt like his. Payback for months of sins he never would have committed, for the green that clouded his vision. But most of all, it was a promise.

After minutes that held years of heartwrenching pain, Tim delivered the killing blow, straight under the shadow’s chin and into its brain. He was covered in blood, tacky and rust-toned, but where a past Tim--a lesser Tim--would have balked or vomited at the sight, this Tim stood, cleaned off his blade, and hefted the cooling corpse onto his shoulder.

They can try to revive it with the Lazarus Pit. You cannot allow that to happen. You cannot fail, the whispers urged, but he no longer needed them. They were him and he was them. Green in every breath and thought.

Tim escaped into the desert and finished the job, just as he had always been taught to do. Ra’s would have been proud. Bruce would have been proud.

That night, after the Spiders had been exterminated and the mess cleaned up, Tim sat at the foot of his bed, staring at his hands. The ninjas had looked at him with what could be called pride when he staggered back into the fray, his face bruised and bloody and sporting a wound on his thigh. His silky clothes brushed past the injuries every few seconds, but he couldn’t muster the energy to wince, even though he knew he should.

Tam had managed to hide during the clash, and Aminta had kept her promise. Tim liked people who followed through.

After being given the all clear, he stumbled back to his room to wash out his wounds and scrub the smell of smoke off his skin.

He had only just changed into his silky clothes when a knock came at the door. Without waiting for a response, the White Ghost was in Tim’s room, staring down at the teenager with an unnameable expression on his face.

“Timothy Drake,” the man said by way of greeting.

Tim glanced at him and blinked owlishly, but did not respond.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

This gripped Tim’s attention, and he finally made eye contact with the assassin, his brow creasing in concern.

“You’re going to revive him, right? He told me that you have more Lazarus Pits near here, he can use one of those. How did he die?” A million scenarios raced through Tim’s head, films of the death of the Demon.

“They burned him on a pyre and left him in his study. No trace of cause of death, and we can’t revive him. Any DNA has been destroyed.”

Tim stared blankly, processing. The Demon’s Head, the invincible Ra’s al Ghul, was dead. Gone forever.

“Ra’s made plans, should he die,” the White Ghost continued. “Those plans include a new leader of the League of Shadows. And that leader is you.”

Tim sputtered, “What? You can’t be serious. I’m seventeen years old. Why not you? Or Talia or Nyssa? Or Damian?”

“I do not make light of these things. He said you, so it is you. I am the White ghost. He had not contacted his daughters in years, and his grandson is too unpredictable to be suited to the position. You are the Demon’s Head, Timothy Drake.��

Tim stared back numbly. He was the Demon’s Head. The Cradle was his, these assassins were his, the world was his. He wanted power, and now it had fallen into his lap. The White Ghost kneeled before him and bowed his head. “I will serve you, Timothy Drake, in whatever way you see fit. I will be your eyes and ears and hands. I will obey you and carry out your orders. I pledge my allegiance to you, and only to you.” Satisfied with his vow, he rose to his full height.

Tim swallowed hard, then looked back up. “I accept your vow and thank you for your loyalty.” Then, “When… When will the rest know?”

“Tomorrow, at noon. I thought it might be best for everyone to rest, and for you to know first. We can discuss further details tomorrow morning, but for now, know who you are.”

Tim nodded stiffly and pushed himself to his feet, straightening his spine the way his mother had taught him to. He had been raised to become a prince of Gotham, one of the pretty boys that graced magazine covers and made headlines at charity events. Now, he was a king of assassins, an emperor of the underworld. If only she could see him now. Maybe she’d even be proud of him, for once.

“Thank you, White Ghost. We will speak again tomorrow. Should there be any issues during the night, I would like for you to inform me immediately.” He may be clad in silk pyjamas, but there was leadership in every fiber of his being. The whispers hissed in agreement.

“Fadir Nasser. My name is Fadir Nasser. Long live the Demon’s Head,” the White Ghost--Fadir--said as he left the room, the last remark stinging with a hint of a joke.

The door locked shut behind him, and Tim flopped backward onto the bed, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His gaze fell to the closet, where his suit was stuffed in the corner, smelling of smoke and burning flesh and the irony tang of blood. The whispers quickly supplied a description of the events, but Tim could picture them clear as day--carrying Ra’s to the desert, building and lighting a pyre, then bringing the body back and placing it in Ra’s’ study for someone to find. It was incredibly simple, almost too simple for no one to have done before. But Tim was Green, Greener than anyone had ever been before. And no one would ever know.

He’d need to invest in a new suit befitting his new role, maybe bring back some green accents. He no longer needed to mourn Conner. He no longer needed to mourn at all. He was the Demon’s Head, and he would never die.

The whispers laughed cruelly, like the audience of a poorly-written tragedy.

The transition of power wasn’t smooth, but it was quick. Assassins weren’t particularly known for their loyalty, and Fadir made it clear that any dissenters wouldn’t even make it to the door. They only had to clean blood off the stone floors once before that lesson sunk in.

As far as coups go, it was pretty successful. The whispers had quieted, just a little. Tim could sometimes make it hours without the hissing in the back of his mind, reminding him that he couldn’t rest. With power comes paranoia, and Tim was intimately familiar with both.

Now to rid himself of liabilities.

It had been a particularly lucid day, and Tim’s near-silent footsteps were the only hint of noise in the hallway. Tam had been given the option to move her room closer to his, but had refused. He didn’t blame her, it was hard being the civilian favorite of the assassin king. Tim knew this well.

Tim knocked on the wooden door, two quick raps. Somewhere deep in his memory, he wondered if this would have been his life, had everything been different; maybe he’d be knocking on Tam’s door before picking her up for a date. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, put on the shy smile Tam thought was his true one, and waited for her. Shuffling on the other side of the door, then a creak as it swung open. Tim glided in, and Tam looked at him with those big brown eyes, her expression tainted with a touch of fear. He didn’t remember her ever being afraid of him before.

“Do you want to go home?” Tim asked. No preamble, just his soft question in the quiet room.

Tam didn’t even think about it first.

“Yes.”

Tim nodded, then drew out a one-way ticket to Archie Goodwin International Airport, leaving tomorrow night. He held it out to her, that soft smile on his face and a promise in his eyes.

Tam tentatively took it, but kept looking at him. “Are you serious?”

“You’re not a prisoner. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you leave earlier, I just wanted to make sure the League was stable first. My intention was always to get you home.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim slipped his hands in his pockets. “You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy.”

Tam pulled him into a hug, and for a second it felt so nice it almost hurt. Then it was over, and he could be comfortably numb again.

“Aminta will be coming with you, just to make sure you get home safe. Once you’re with your family, you won’t have to see any of my… agents ever again.”

Tam nodded, her face screwed up in an effort to keep from crying. He turned to leave and give her privacy, then paused.

“Tam? Thank you. For being my friend.”

Then the king of shadows disappeared into the night, yet again.

Tim frowned at the wall, a small comms unit tucked in his ear. He hadn’t moved from this room in a day, not since Tam and Aminta left.

“Okay, Aminta, I need you to keep close. You said that it’s just Batman and Robin? No Batgirl?”

“Just Batman and Robin. They haven’t spotted me yet. Robin’s really fallen behind since leaving us.”

Tim growled under his breath and carded a hand through his hair. It was getting long again. Who did Ra’s go to for haircuts? Did he just do it himself?

Focus.

The facts were these: Tam had been contacted by Batman and Robin immediately after Lucius Fox gave word that she was home safe. Tim had been expecting this, and Aminta was sent to follow Tam and ensure that the interaction went favorably. Which is to say that no one killed Tam because of what she knew. Aminta was currently hidden on the same rooftop as Gotham’s favorite heroes, listening in on their rendez-vous.

“What’s happening? Report.”

“She’s telling them--why don’t I just play their conversation? I have the capability.”

“Do it.”

A crackling came over Tim’s comm unit for a few brief seconds before it shifted to three familiar voices.

“It’s okay, Tam. Just tell us everything. From the beginning.” That was Dick. He sounded the exact same way he had when Tim left, tired and a little pained. Serves him right. “Yeah, okay,” there was Tam’s voice, slightly higher pitched than normal. “So my dad sent me to find out where Tim Drake was. And I managed to track him down to Iraq. So I’m in my hotel room one night, and I wake up to someone putting a cloth on my nose. Then everything went black, and the next thing I knew I was in this cold stone room. Then this albino guy tells me to stand up and we walk into this big hallway and there’s Tim. And he’s all sweaty and looks super freaked out. Then they brought us to these bedrooms and told us that we’d be staying a while.”

“Why would they take you?” A third voice asked, the snobby tone immediately registering as Damian. The brat.

“I’m not sure. Maybe my search for Tim sent up some flags? No one ever told me.” Her voice cracked a little, and maybe once upon a time, Tim would have felt sorry for her. Not anymore.

“It’s okay, Tam. After you moved into the Cradle, what happened?”

“Tim spent a lot of time training or with Ra’s. He couldn’t tell me much, but apparently Ra’s took a liking to him. One of the inner circle guys turned out to be a traitor, so Tim took his job. I didn’t see him a lot.”

“Who was the traitor?” Damian again, with a hint of anger in his voice. Or was that fear?

“Some computer guy. The Executioner or something.”

“The Expeditor?” It was definitely fear in Damian’s voice. He sounded like a child when he was scared.

“Yeah, him. I just hung around for the most part. They had books. They gave me makeup and nail polish when I asked for it. I was bored, but never threatened.” Tim snorted. Tam knew more than anyone that just because she didn’t have a knife to her neck didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger every moment of the day.

Dick cleared his throat, then spoke again, “Why did Ra’s let you leave?”

Tam went quiet, just for a second.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

A beat of silence. Tim would have paid millions to watch them right now.

“How?” Damian, his voice filled with fear, and maybe a little pain.

“I-I don’t know. There was an attack by the Council of Spiders. Tim had them lock me in my room with a guard. Some of the girls I talked to said that Ra’s was burned afterward so they couldn’t revive him. No one knew until the day after.” Tam’s voice was shaking now.

“Then where’s Tim?” Dick asked, finally caring about his younger brother after all this time. What a joke.

Tam stuttered a few times, but eventually got the words out. “Tim… Tim’s the new leader. Ra’s named him his heir before he died.”

A hiss sounded over the comms. That had to be Damian.

“Thank you, Tam. I appreciate you answering our questions. You know where to find us if you remember anything else.”

Some shuffling obscured any new words, then Aminta’s voice appeared. “They’re leaving, do you want me to follow them?”

“Yes,” Tim responded, massaging his temples. The whispers were getting louder now, to a point where it was impossible to understand any one message. It was hard when they got like this, harder than when they teamed up. At least then he didn’t feel like a helpless teacher in a rowdy classroom.

Maybe a minute ticked by before Aminta was back. “They just went a few rooftops away. Robin’s clutching Batman’s cape and crying, but it’s like angry crying. He’s mumbling something, but I can’t understand it. Batman’s rubbing his back, but he looks miserable too. Less angry, more sad.”

“That’ll be all, Aminta, thank you. You can return home tomorrow,” Tim sighed. “Our dear friend Tam has done us a favor, so we should be ready for the consequences.”

“What favor? Telling them everything?”

“Not everything. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

“What advantage could we possibly have, other than knowing that they know?”

“Tam didn’t tell them about my little swim.”

Somewhere, there was a universe where Timothy Drake-Wayne woke up on the morning of his 18th birthday and put on a suit, ready for a day of meetings at whatever company he was interning for before he started college. Maybe he had a party with his family or a date that night. This is what Tim thought about as he busied himself getting ready. He had never been one for birthdays. Jack and Janet were rarely home, and even when they were in Gotham, they had better things to do than celebrate a child. He didn’t blame them. Before he came to the Cradle, he wasn’t worth celebrating.

The ornate mirror in his bathroom showcased his attire: a loose-fitting white shirt, tailored brown silk pants, and a dark green cape that almost resembled snakeskin. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he left them. They made the blue stand out. Here was the heir Ra’s had craved so badly. The old Tim would have made a joke about how he looked like a dark prince from a young adult novel, but not anymore. He was the Demon’s Head now. No, not just its head. He was its hands and heart as well. Tim Drake was a demon through and through.

His guests had landed in Iraq the day before, and he had it on good authority that he could expect them that evening.

Tim drifted around the room, preparing for the meeting as one would prepare for battle. His fingertips lingered on the rings he had inherited from his predecessor, and with a deliberate movement he chose the signet ring Ra’s used to wear. He slipped it on and smiled to himself, a snake poised to strike.

Carefully, he patted his wrists, hips, and ankles to ensure his knives were still there. He had always favored batarangs, but he was no longer a bat or a bird. He had left them behind, just as they had left him.

The White Ghost was waiting at his door, ready to escort him to his study. As they walked, Tim absentmindedly ran his thumb over his knuckles. The whispers hissed inaudibly in his ear, wailing for attention.

“Has the room been secured?” He asked, face neutral.

“Yes. I have placed ninjas along the walls and at every access point. Any familiar with the al Ghul child have been sent on missions abroad, though they remain loyal to you.”

“They leave here alive. If they attempt to attack, I want them subdued but not killed.”

“That’s not wise. It will be seen as a show of weakne-”

“Do you think I am weak?” Tim’s voice was as ice cold as he felt.

“No, of course not,” Fadir backpedaled. “But how can you justify it?”

“By the time I’m done, there will be no need to kill them. This is just a courtesy call, a reminder that my prior allegiances are no longer viable.”

Tim swept into the study, his back straight and his jaw square just the way he had always been taught. From birth, he had been raised to be a prince of Gotham, one of the many pretty boys in suits who graced Forbes covers before they could legally drink. He had been bred for greatness, and he achieved it in his own way. Here, no one would ever best him. He was finally free.

Soon you will have everything. All you have to do is make one order.

Tim’s hands shook slightly, but he tightened his grip on his fountain pen as he sat down. The day was full of reports, requests for missions, and invoices. He had been doing most of this paperwork anyway when he was just a lackey, so it wasn’t an inconvenience. It was methodical in its ruthlessness. $750k for a political assassination in France, 40% taken for the League, the rest wired to a private bank account in the Cayman Islands. $25k to kill a cheating spouse in South Africa, the same 40%, and this time headed for a Swiss bank account. A request for a league member to “take care of” an abuser, which Tim set aside. An invoice for new training blades, as the older ones had been dulled. A new Lazarus Pit that was discovered in Iceland.

The sun began to sink outside of his window, and Tim collected himself, drawing the last shards of who he used to be away from the surface. That Tim was dead and gone, and in his place was someone who was finally worthy. If the old Tim was a bleeding heart, this Tim was the knife that stabbed it.

Fadir knocked on the large oak door to signal that their guests had arrived. Tim pushed himself out from behind the desk, pulled back his shoulders, and stalked out of the room, refusing to look back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t show any weakness--it was that he wasn’t weak at all. Not anymore.

Tim walked down the now-familiar hallways, the whispers humming in happiness as others averted their eyes respectfully as he passed by. Aminta stood at the left hand of the large stone throne in the formal hall, and dipped her head in greeting when he approached. Tim took his place on the throne, relaxing into the smooth stone. Fadir took the right-hand side, his hand on his sword’s pommel at all times.

Ninjas lined the walls, all ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Most had been training for decades, long before Tim was even a thought. And now they served him. One lone ninja entered the room, first bowing to Tim and then scurrying up to the throne.

“They have arrived, sir.”

Tim grinned darkly.

“Bring them in.”

Dick looked older than he had eight months ago. His cowl was pulled up to hide his face, but Tim could see it in the set of his jaw. For a man in his late twenties, Dick looked positively weary.

Serves him right.

Damian was stiff, both an heir and a stranger in a child’s body. He glanced at the ninjas placed around the edge of the room, as if searching for a familiar face. He wouldn’t find one.

Tim did not smile when the man he had once considered his brother approached.

“Hello Dick. Damian.” His voice was colder than he ever thought it could be. “You can remove your masks, everyone here knows who you are.” Or they did now.

Dick hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pulled off the cowl. Damian followed suit with a grumble, peeling off his domino.

Satisfied, Tim smoothed a neutral expression onto his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, the words pleasant but the tone as sharp as a blade.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” Dick burst out without preamble. It was a shame that he couldn’t exchange pleasantries, even after all of Alfred’s lessons.

“Not exactly. I was in Paris for a bit, caught up with some old friends.” An old friend, one who probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone. None of them had.

You are powerful because you are alone. Others would betray you. You can trust no one. The whispers chimed in, though they were merely repeating what he already knew to be true.

Damian hissed his displeasure, which earned him an evil look from Dick. Look, he’d already been replaced.

“Tim,” Dick began in a gentle voice, the one he used for scared kids. “Come home. We can figure this out. We’ll get you help, maybe even try that therapist I told you about. Or we can shop around, it doesn’t matter. I miss you. I miss my little brother.”

How pathetic.

“Oh, I believe you misunderstood. This is a business meeting, not an intervention,” Tim hummed, examining his fingernails. The cold steel of the knives tucked in his sleeves was a delicious reminder of who he was, who he had always been destined to become.

“In that case, I believe some clarification is in order. Following the death of Ra’s al Ghul, I became the head of the League of Shadows, a position I am very proud of. I will not be returning to Gotham, unless it is for League business, and I will certainly never fight at your side again.

“In truth, Dick, I have not thought about you or your brat once since coming to stay at the League. I understand that our previous relationship may have led you to believe that I would be a naive fool forever, but that is not the case. I have found meaning now more than you could ever dream of achieving.

“Here is my proposition: I will cease training of any assassins younger than age sixteen immediately. I am also currently updating how the League accepts jobs to minimize the amount of innocent casualties. I will waive all rights to Wayne Enterprises, though anything Bruce willed to me will remain mine. In exchange, you leave me and my assassins alone. You will not contact me unless seeking my services. You can keep your Robin, but he lost his birthright a year ago. These are my conditions, and they are non-negotiable.”

The chatty Dick Grayson was speechless. Instead, it was Damian who spoke.

“You stole my birthright.” For a child, he sounded downright murderous.

Tim smiled. “And you stole mine. I believe that makes us even.”

The child nodded, then drew his sword. Along the walls, ninjas drew theirs as well.

“Damian, no!” Dick hissed, glaring at his brother-ward. “Tim, you can’t be serious. We’re family. This is insane!”

Tim’s expression did not display the glee that bubbled in his chest.

“We were family. But you know what they say, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He dismissed Dick’s other accusations with a wave of his hand. “I have given you my terms. You have forty-eight hours to make your decision. Until then, I believe you have overstayed your welcome. You should leave.”

Green pulled at the corners of his vision as the whispers shrieked, begging him to go ahead and kill them. He couldn’t, of course, that would just invite more prying eyes to the League. But he could think about it, and that was enough.

Dick and Damian were almost at the doors when Dick stopped and turned to face Tim, his posture teenagerishly defiant.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he spat, as if Dick Grayson had ever truly known Timothy Drake.

Instead, Tim smiled. “I’m the Demon. And you should leave before I make you see Hell.”

A second later, they were gone. Watching them go felt like getting an injection--the pinch lasted for a second, but afterward there was no pain at all.

Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon, the whispers howled as Tim’s blood sang, welcome to your kingdom come.

His hands had always been cold. Ariana used to comment on it all the time--how his touch was borderline freezing. At the time, it had been a running joke: Tim Drake, the boy made of snow, with eyes made of ice and snow-pale skin. It seemed now that even in the heat of the desert, his heart had frozen too.

Nighttime was comfortable in the desert, at least for someone accustomed to Gotham’s climate. Still, the breeze that danced across Tim’s skin left goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t remember when he’d come out here, let alone what for. He barely even noticed how he gripped the banister of the balcony until his knuckles went stark white.

A little prickle of emotion prodded at his subconscious, but he couldn’t identify it even if he wanted to. There was no room for feelings anymore, if there had ever been. If anything, feelings had gotten him into more messes than out of them.

He had become a vigilante because he felt that Batman needed a Robin. He worshiped the ground Bruce walked on because he felt like Bruce saw him as a son. He broke the rules for Stephanie because he felt as if she could love him. He wanted to be with Conner because he felt that someone finally saw him for who he was. He rejected power time and time again because he felt that it was the right thing to do.

But feelings meant nothing. All that truly mattered was knowledge and wanting. And Tim knew more than ever. And he wanted it all.

Once, he had considered them his family. They had loved him, maybe, but they had never known him. He used to believe in a future spent fighting by their side, but he knew that was a child’s dream now--the same child who believed that he wouldn’t live to see twenty-one. Tim had no such concerns now.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the League was his new family, nor did he need one. But they would not underestimate him or take him for granted. Here, he had respect and power, and that was enough.

The lights of the nearest city glimmered far on the horizon, promising happiness and gaiety somewhere in the night. He smiled, a secret only for him.

One day, you will rule it all, the whispers promised. One day, you will be king. And you will destroy any who stand in your way.

Long live the Demon.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

How do you think Runaan supports Ethari?

Quietly, and I think there’s a difference between public and private support. And Runaan’s a master of both.

One thing it took me a while to notice is that, during the flashback scene, Runaan doesn’t stand completely opposite Ethari to receive his flower until after they’ve kissed. He scoots over into his “proper” position to receive it, but he’s been standing just a bit off to the side for the whole private exchange with Ethari--words and kiss alike. And no one even bats an eye. Like, if Runaan’s not in his proper official position, then it’s not really happening. Maybe any small asides in Moonshadow conversation are to be pleasantly ignored as if they’re not happening? And that’s where Runaan’s little kisses and murmurs would thrive. He always knows exactly where he’s standing, physically and socially, a master of dances, because dances have rules.

I don’t think anyone believes he’s afraid to show a bit of affection in public after that kiss. I bet he’s softly affectionate when they’re walking around together. Holding hands a lot and walking in step--easier since they’re almost the same height. But whatever they do, I can see Runaan touching Ethari a lot to get his attention, and they’d all be soft lingering touches and brushes, not just taps. And that all goes to show Ethari that Runaan’s deliberately being soft with him, that he can speak Ethari’s language, which he probably learned from Ethari in the first place. If every time Runaan touches Ethari it reminds Ethari that Runaan has dedicated a portion of his life to speaking Softthari, then each touch will be a reminder of Runaan’s loyalty and dedication, a message within a message. Super Moonshadow.

But that’s just literally the surface. Runaan may be the leader of the assassins, but he’s married to a busy and influential craftsman who has his own business needs and opinions. I can easily see Runaan simply adopting everything that’s important to Ethari, work-wise, and advocating for it whenever he needs to, because what keeps Ethari happy in his work will obviously spill over into Ethari’s personal happiness, which Runaan naturally wants to provide. Those two on the village council always vote together. (And anyone who wants their vote probably goes to Ethari first to try to get him to sway Runaan, lol)

In private, I think Runaan opens up a lot more to Ethari and communicates with him much more. Touch is a big part of Runaan’s communication, and I’m sure he’s very touchy-feely with Ethari, whether they’re in bed or just pottering around the tree house in the morning. Runaan seems the type who prides himself on his ability to speak so directly with his hands that he doesn’t need words, and Ethari’s the type to have a really hard time keeping quiet about receiving such tender attentions. Runaan’s definitely a service top okay

But I think that Runaan does say a lot to Ethari, too, out loud. They’ve known each other for a long time, and Runaan trusts Ethari with every part of himself. Including speaking his deepest, truest feelings right out into the world, so that Ethari knows exactly how much Runaan loves and appreciates him. And admitting any deep insecurities or concerns that he has, which he’d never let anyone else see or hear of. 

I think he values Ethari’s advice in regards to people’s softer sides, too. Runaan can assess the threat anyone poses on various levels, and he can predict their behavior in a fight-or-flight way. He can read hard motives and anticipate both physical and psychological shifts. But he has a harder time following the vagaries of the elven heart, and so if there’s ever an issue that involves it, I think he tells Ethari about it and asks what he thinks. That’s tantamount to admitting he can’t solve the issue on his own, and that’s something he won’t admit to anyone else. But simply by asking Ethari’s advice, he’s showing a deep trust in Ethari’s ability to read people’s hearts, translate that knowledge into Runaanese, and speak it in a way that Runaan can then act on for the best interests of all involved.

Runaan has to be very aware of just how much time and effort Ethari pours into supporting him and his assassin position, so I can see him lending a hand around Ethari whenever he’s home. Carrying stuff, helping in the kitchen, letting Ethari gently boss him around to balance out Ethari’s support role in the hardware side of assassination. Ethari giving Runaan something really heavy to carry up the stairs, and Runaan just silently struggling with it so that Ethari can see 1: how much Runaan wants to help him out, and 2: how much stronger Ethari is because he was carrying the same load in like one arm. Ethari sees Runaan all pink and sweaty from effort and smooches his cheek in gratitude, and Runaan just grins, because Ethari’s smile and kiss was the whole point all along.

Runaan’s got the privilege of being the more visible, respected member of their marriage. I think--I hope--he’s acutely aware of the inaccuracy of that appearance. He’ll definitely use it to Ethari’s advantage every time he can. But he’ll also act in private to subvert it and to let Ethari be in charge of as much as he likes, like cooking and planning vacations and decorating the house and picking who tops whom that night. Because he wants to balance with Ethari, and he’ll bend in whatever direction he needs to in order to get it. And the lengths he goes to for Ethari to feel respected and appreciated and heard, that’s the truest way Runaan can show his love and support.

also he probably lets Ethari lead all their dances

Anyway, those are some thoughts I had on the subject. I hope that’s the kind of thing you were looking for, anon! Thanks for the great question.

[besanii]

Hadestown wangxian au? Because really, what's more romantic than taking your stringed instrument and going to rescue your maybe(?)dead lover from the stygian underworld??? Also, double bonus points 'cause 1) gotta rescue wwx from a realm guarded by a three-headed dog! 2) eurydice's name means "she whose justice extends widely" iirc, which is a pretty wwx vibe.

Hi nonny! Not familiar with Hadestown, but I do know the original myth, so if you don’t mind I’m going to base it loosely on that (and add a bit of Chinese mythology to it too) :) 

The Gusu Lan sect cultivates through music, channeling their spiritual energy through their instruments to resonate with their surroundings. Through this, they can direct the energy outwards to manipulate the world around them, or direct it inward to a person’s soul, to soothe or to harm.

They can also communicate with the dead.

Lan Wangji has played Inquiry thousands of times. It is the first language one learns when cultivating through music and the most widely used. There are ways to pinpoint certain spirits to ask a question, ways to hold them there until they respond, ways to force them to answer, ways to prevent them from lying. The effectiveness of the language depends on one’s skill. And Lan Wangji is a master.

And yet Wei Wuxian does not answer.

He plays Inquiry until his fingers bleed, until the calluses on his fingers crack and tear under the silk strings. He pours all of his spiritual power into each note, calling for Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying—and when that yields no results, he plays the question: Where is Wei Ying?

He draws spirits from far and wide, each clamouring for his attention, offering up stories and rumours and hearsay: Yiling-laozu is wandering the Burial Mounds, the Nightless City, Lotus Pier, Yiling. He follows each one to every corner of the land and sends out the call.

Wei Wuxian does not answer.

–

Some say Wei Wuxian flew too close to the sun and burned for it.

Others say Wei Wuxian tried to play god with the lives of others and was punished.

They call him a monster, a heretic.

They say he deserved his end, torn apart by the very monsters he created until nothing of him remained but stories.

Good riddance.

He’ll be dragged into the depths of the Underworld and punished for all eternity for his sins.

No one will mourn him.

But they are wrong.

Wei Wuxian had been a boy who loved freely, who had been quick to smile and quick to anger, who had sought nothing more than justice and peace for those who couldn’t protect themselves. He had been clever, too clever, too quick-witted, full of new ideas and thirst for knowledge.

And Lan Wangji mourns.

–

One day, after years and years of searching, the spirits take pity on him.

There is a way, they tell him, to the Underworld.

If Wei Wuxian is dead, he will be there.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Where do I go?

The spirits flicker and dance across the strings.

We’ll show you.

-

In his travels, Lan Wangji has heard of the Underworld in many forms.

He hears stories of the Eighteen Levels, of Yanluo Wang and the gruesome tortures awaiting damned souls as punishment for their sins. Then there are stories of the Ten Courts through which dead souls pass, one at a time, until they are reincarnated back into the world of the living. There are other stories, of rivers made of the souls of the dead, of ferocious beasts and ghostly guards, and of jealous gods.

“Wangji, this is madness,” Lan Qiren says angrily, when he tells them of his plan. “I forbid it.”

“This is very dangerous,” Lan Xichen agrees. “Please reconsider, Wangji.”

There is understanding in his eyes, a sad resignation that sends a sharp knife through Lan Wangji’s heart. They love him and fear for him and believe his judgement to be clouded by blind devotion. But they do not know Wei Wuxian like he does. They do not understand how his entire being, his very soul calls out to Wei Wuxian—to that beautiful boy bathed in moonlight on the rooftops of the Cloud Recesses he’d failed to save.

So he leaves, Bichen in hand, Wangji strapped across his back, following the spirits down into the chasm between the world of the living and the beyond.

-

They take him to the river, where a ghostly figure shrouded in black waits at the shore. One of the spirits hovers by his shoulder, whispering in his ear.

That is the Ferryman. He will take you across if you pay him.

He produces a silver coin and the Ferryman takes it; when their hands brush, a bone-deep chill runs up the length of Lan Wangji’s arm. He is careful not to come into contact with him again as he moves past him onto the boat. The spirits hover by the river bank.

We cannot come with you, they say. We cannot pay the fare. You must go alone.

“Thank you,” he says, and means it.

They dance about like fireflies in the darkness, glowing brighter and warmer than before as he bows to them.

Please take care of him.

Please take care of Wei-gongzi.

Tell him thank you. For everything.

And sorry, for not being able to help.

Lan Wangji bows again, deeper this time, his heart heavy.

“I will do my best to bring him home,” he says.

-

A three-headed dog snaps and snarls at them as they pass through the Gates. The Ferryman does not acknowledge it, even as they get close enough that its putrid breath makes Lan Wangji’s stomach turn. His fingers clench about Bichen when the Hound’s beady eyes find him, the lone living soul shining warm and bright in the darkness. It roars; the sound churns the river and rattles Lan Wangji to the bone.

He glances at the Ferryman, who continues along, unfazed. 

The Hound is a guard. It is only doing its duty.

He sets aside Bichen and instead unwraps Wangji, laying it across his lap on the boat. The first note of Rest rings out through the darkness; the Hound goes quiet, its barks subsiding into heavy breaths as Lan Wangji continues to play. The song settles over them like a heavy blanket and he pours his spiritual energy into each note until the Hound’s eyes drift closed.

The Ferryman takes them onwards.

-

The passage of time slowly starts losing its meaning the further they travel. The Ferryman continues silently, steadily, a timeless, ghostly spectre.

Lan Wangji realises the waters around them are not empty, as he had first believed, when slimy hands start grasping at the edges of the boat, rocking it back and forth as if to dislodge its cargo. He catches a glimpse of pale, translucent faces floating just beneath the surface, twisted in agony, anger, fear.

He keeps playing feverishly to ward away the chill of death creeping over his skin and the fear clawing up from inside his throat. He plays until his fingers crack and bleed, new wounds spilling over old, staining silk strings and dark lacquer. He pours everything he has into playing Rest, to soothe the anger and resentment that chokes the river.

He doesn’t dare play Inquiry.

-

By the time they reach the shore, his fingers are curled in on themselves, his joints stiff and aching and covered in blood. His lips are dry and cracked from dehydration, his tongue like sand, and each breath crackles in his lungs like tongues of fire.

The Ferryman makes no move to help as he forces himself to stand, every part of his body screaming in protest. He draws upon years and years of discipline to keep himself upright, to move one foot in front of the other until he feels solid rock beneath his feet. Only then does he crumble.

He lays on the cold, rocky shore, Bichen by his side, Wangji just within reach, as he watches the Ferryman glide away. Darkness clouds his vision in flickering patches. He is so tired.

Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan! Where are you?

He reaches for Wangji.

Wei Ying. I’m here.

He closes his eyes.

-

Fingers card through his hair, teasing out knots and soothing the ache away with gentle motions. He is dimly aware that his head is pillowed on something soft; the soul-crushing weariness is gone, replaced instead by a tingling warmth that rushes through his veins and fills his lungs. The air is filled with the scent of flowers.

“You shouldn’t be here,” a familiar voice says. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His heart leaps into his throat. He knows this voice. 

A rush of longing so intense floods his senses, burning behind his closed eyelids, trickling down his throat, twisting and churning in his stomach. He gasps, chokes on the sob that wrenches from his throat and his fingers scrabble at the ground, trying to push himself into a sitting position, to see—

A hand covers his eyes and holds him in place.

“Don’t.” He lays back down. “You mustn’t open your eyes.”

“Wei Ying,” he says, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse. “Is that you?”

Wei Wuxian chuckles. “Yes, it’s me Lan Zhan. You stupid, stubborn fool.”

Lan Wangji raises his hand, grasping blindly at the air until another hand intercepts it. He clutches it like a lifeline, running his thumb over each knuckle, each finger, over the familiar calluses honed by years of training; he presses it to his mouth reverently. 

“Wei Ying.” His name falls like a litany from his lips. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop. “Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Wei Ying.”

“I’m here,” Wei Wuxian assures him. A thumb brushes over his cheek. “I’m here, Lan Zhan.”

“I lost you,” Lan Wangji says. The words are thick in his throat. “I couldn’t…couldn’t protect you. And then you were gone.”

“I know.” 

“I looked everywhere for you.”

“I know.”

“You never answered.”

“I couldn’t.” Wei Wuxian exhales shakily. “I’m sorry.”

Lan Wangji clutches at his arm. 

“Come back,” he says, pleading. “Come back with me. Please.”

How many times has he asked, when Wei Wuxian was still alive? How many times has he made this plea in his heart, when Wei Wuxian was gone? He’s lost count over the years. And each time, even in his dreams, he is rebuffed; each time, he wakes up alone. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive another.

“You’re one persistent fool,” Wei Wuxian says. His laughter sounds like a sob. “How can I say no to you now, when you’ve come all this way?”

-

“There are rules,” Wei Wuxian explains as he helps Lan Wangji to his feet. “Conditions.”

He must not touch Wei Wuxian.

He must not speak to him.

He must not look back.

“What happens if I do?” he asks, staring determinedly at the approaching Ferryman. 

Wei Wuxian chuckles, but there is little humour in his voice.

“Just don’t do it,” he says. “You’re good at obeying the rules. No touching, no talking, no looking. Not until we’ve both reached the surface.”

Lan Wangji smiles despite himself.

-

It’s harder than he’d expected.

Not the journey, not this time. The knowledge that Wei Wuxian is sitting behind him in the boat, just out of reach, is enough to lift his spirits. But in turn, the temptation to turn around, to talk, to touch him, just to make sure he’s still there, is a visceral ache he feels in his soul. 

What if, somewhere along the way, he loses him again?

What if the gods decide they’d made a mistake and take him away again?

What if this was a lie, to get him to return to the world of the living? 

He clenches his fist, twists it in the fabric of his robes, closes his eyes. He is one of the Twin Jades of Gusu Lan, renowned for his discipline, his determination, his unwavering faith. And he has nothing if not complete faith in Wei Wuxian.

So he sits, and waits.

-

The spirits meet him on the other side of the river, fluttering about with excitement when they realise who is behind him.

He motions for them to be silent as he leaves the boat, but his heart is pounding in his chest. They are close. He starts walking.

After a while, he realises the only footsteps he hears are his own.

The thought strikes fear into his heart like a bolt of lightning and he has to stop and breathe. The spirits around clamour around him, their movements jerky and anxious as they flit back and forth. He grits his teeth, steels his heart, and keeps walking.

He’s still here, he tells himself. He’s still here. He’ll still be here.

Just a little longer.

He sees a light up ahead and relief floods through him.

Just a little longer.

He picks up his pace until it matches his heartbeat, until he’s almost flying.

The light grows brighter, hotter. It pierces his eyes as he steps over the threshold and into the sun. 

They’ve made it.

He turns around, Wei Wuxian’s name on his lips, one hand already reaching out to grab him—

Wei Wuxian gives him a watery smile from the mouth of the cave—

—and fades from sight.

-

In a little village on the outskirts of Gusu, a boy by the name of Mo Xuanyu wakes up in a pool of blood.

// buy me a ko-fi //

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 63 - Potions and Snitches

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 1,528

Summary: Yato begins to seek answers, and the first Quidditch match of the year begins.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Yato opened his mind as wide as he dared before he fell asleep, and though it took what felt like hours, he was asleep within minutes.

Yato found himself in Grimmauld Place. It looked just the way he remembered when he first came to visit; threadbare carpets, dark oaken banisters, and wallpaper that was torn and rough under his fingertips.

He walked down the hallway, listening for any signs of life, but none came. The living room was deserted with a cold fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, the dining room equally as dishevelled by books and spiderwebs that heaped up over the years. It seemed like no one was home.

Yato turned into the small library at the back of the house after peering down the kitchen stairs. He scanned the shelves once again and familiar books stared back at him. Faded photographs in silver frames showed obscure faces and several ornate boxes of tarnished silver etched with a foreign language dotted between them.

His gaze lifted to the three silver goblets on the upper shelves. His hand picked them up one by one. The gold signet ring tumbled into his hand from one, and from another, he plucked out the glossy black pendant.

Yato wrapped its chain around his fingers and let it dangle, feeling a tingle of déjà vu run down his spine as he did so. A similar throbbing returned to his head as he held the ring in his closed fist, the pendant hanging from his fingers. He fumbled for the similar groove, bidding it to open this time through the building pressure in his head.

As the locket clicked open, Yato startled awake.

~

Yukine was furious.

He was the one who could brew death in a bottle. He was the one who could follow instructions to the letter. And now, Yato, of all people, was making potions like an apothecary.

Yukine felt his chest fill with frustration. His hair, normally kept neat, had plastered itself to his forehead with sweat and been pushed back a million times since the beginning of class. For whatever reason, Yato had suddenly improved his potions within the last month, and Yukine was losing his mind.

Even more so today, as Madame Kofuku had announced a light-hearted competition. The task: brew a perfect draught of living death, a notoriously difficult potion. The prize: a vial of Felix Felicis, otherwise known as liquid luck.

“What are you doing?” Yukine eyed Yato’s hands as he deftly crushed the squill bulb against his cutting board, the flat of the knife twinkling at him mockingly.

Yato shot Yukine a smirk. “Crush it instead.”

“No, you cut it,” Yukine’s words cut the air as thinly as his own plant, yet Yato grinned and swept his ingredients into his cauldron.

Hiyori, equally as annoyed but still level-headed, gently turned the page of her potions book. “Let's just try to get through this without killing him. Yato needs the practice for his N.E.W.T.s.”

Yato pouted and continued teasing Yukine, unafraid of tickling the metaphorical sleeping dragon. “You sure you don’t want that Potions for Dummies book back?”

Yukine swore under his breath and looked away. Yato took the chance to slide his own book away slightly, revealing Madame’s Kofuku’s annotated copy that had hundreds of amendments to brewing perfect potions.

The discoveries that she had made over her years in Hogwarts had helped him greatly, along with knowledge of new spells jotted in the margins that Yato had never heard of, lest seen in another book. Sectumsempra – a lacerating spell – seemed like a particularly vicious curse that they wouldn’t teach students anyway.

Hiyori smiled as Yukine threw desperate looks to see what Yato was doing, quickly trying to match his potion as Madame Kofuku called an end to the class. They stepped back as Madame Kofuku walked around the room, small tweezers and flower petals in hand, dropping them into each student’s potion and giving condolences that they hadn’t quite got it right.

Madame Kofuku reached their table and dropped a petal in each of their potions. Hiyori’s wilted slightly at the edges, confirming that her potion was not perfect. Yukine’s wilted even more but an air bubble rose and popped with a foul odour that made him cough and look utterly defeated. Yukine and Hiyori watched as the final petal fluttered into Yato’s potion – which was molten gold in colour with droplets splashing like goldfish above its surface – and shrivelled entirely like a flower in the snow.

“We have a winner!” Madame Kofuku announced, though Yato knew that she was trying to look as fair and innocently surprised by Yato’s success despite giving him the answers herself.

Yukine glared daggers at Yato as he was presented the coveted prize of liquid luck, followed by a smattering of applause from jipped sixth-year students who lost to a seventh-year who shouldn’t have been in their class.

The bell rang out right on time as Yato stared into the crystalline vial, inspecting the honey-coloured liquid and already coming up with ways to use it. The upcoming Quidditch match? He was rusty, but Hiyori would kill him for cheating. His N.E.W.T.s? That sounded like a good idea; he wanted to at least pass, and this could be the key.

Yato approached Yukine and Hiyori with a lazy smile, which wasn’t returned by Yukine as he huffed and threw his cauldron into the sink along with Hiyori’s. He glanced at his own cauldron, decided that Madame Kofuku may want to keep the extra potion, and left it on the table.

“You need to tell us how you got so good,” Yukine whined. His tie, hanging around his neck like a stripy snake, swung as he scooped up his bag.

“Like I said, the book has all the answers.” It was true, although Yato didn’t specify which book he was talking about as he dropped the vial into his robe pocket and shouldered his bag.

Yukine grumbled as he too shouldered his bag. “Hiyori, do me a favour and knock him off his broom.”

Hiyori laughed but had no doubt that he meant it. The game was on Saturday; Gryffindor vs Slytherin; she could easily hit him with the quaffle.

Hiyori flashed Yato a smile as she turned towards the door and flicked her hair in a way she’d seen Bishamon do a thousand times. “Consider it done.”

~

The first Quidditch match of the season was on a blustery November weekend, laced with the first winter snowfall that hid the lines of the Quidditch pitch.

Yato’s thoughts hummed as he pulled on his gear and grasped his broom. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Yato thought. He followed his team onto the pitch alongside Gryffindor, spotting the back of Bishamon's and Hiyori’s head as he passed.

Yato versus Bishamon once again.

The roaring crowds that filled the stands faded to a dull thundering in Yato’s ears. The match was set, and the players flew into the air as the bludgers, quaffle, and the snitch were released into the game with a sharp pitched whistle.

Yato soared upwards and hovered above the pitch, staying out of the way. The falling snow caked his cloak and hair in fine white crystals and stung his cheeks as the breeze pushed against him. His eyes sought out the familiar twinkle of gold among silver snowflakes, though his googles fogged with the heat of his body against the cold.

Below, the players zipped through the air, scarlet and emerald robes streaming out behind them as they expertly swerved and dodged bludgers and passed the quaffle between them, only to be blocked by both Keepers when anyone tried to score. Over the roar of the crowd, Yato felt his heart thunder against his ribs at the tell-tale glint of gold against the white backdrop.

Yato broke into a hasty chase through the flurry of snow, nose-diving towards the earth in a bid to seal his team’s victory and end the onslaught Gryffindor brought with every score. A flicker of a green cloak, too high up to be anyone else, to his left alerted him that Bishamon had also spotted the snitch and was giving chase.

Rearing his broom, Yato soared upright and dug his heels into the stirrups, nosediving and twisting to every opportunity the snitch presented to no avail. It was a game of cat and mouse – one he knew he could win if he could just… get… closer.

Yato’s outstretched fingers burned with the effort, within inches of the snitches fluttering wings beating against the tips of his gloves…

A gloved fist snatched the snitch from under his nose.

Slack-jawed, Yato caught the sweet smile Bishamon flashed him as she twisted down beside him. She turned to the side and spiralled to the ground in a swirl of gold and scarlet, a victory cry rising from her chest that was immediately drowned out by the crowd.

Yato stared down at Bishamon, unable to scowl as he was too surprised to comprehend what she just did.

She had snatched victory right out of his hand.

[it-begins-with-rain]

Asian TV Recommendations: Masterpost

I’ve decided to consolidate my Asian TV Recommendations to a single post!

*Updated 10/04/2020: Dance of the Phoenix, The Lost Tomb, Reunion: The Sound of the Providence

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A Love So Beautiful

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Can the pure love of 17-year-olds endure through all the challenges of college and adulthood?

Chen Xiao Xi and Jiang Chen are high school friends and neighbors who grew up together. Xiao Xi is happy-go-lucky and doesn’t like to study much but she has a talent for drawing. Jiang Chen is popular for his good looks and high grades, but is cold and indifferent to other people. 

Their friends include swimmer Wu Bo Song, who will do anything for XiaoXi, the dorky and over-confident gamer Lu Yang, and Lin Jing Xiao, the most beautiful girl in school (who Lu Yang is hopelessly in love with).

How will the realities of life shape the friendships and love lives of these young adults?

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Abyss (Netflix Original)

Language: Korean

Abyss is a spherical orb that has the power to raise the dead- with a kick: If you were a good person, you are resurrected younger and more attractive. If you were a bad person, your body could change into any form (generally you are at least decades older). 

This is all well and good, until kind-hearted (yet unattractive) Cha Min is resurrected as a young hottie and given the Abyss. He finds an old man dead in the road and uses it to save him- unwittingly resurrecting a violent serial killer on his way to murder Cha Min’s best friend and lifelong crush, Criminal Prosecutor Se Yeon. 

Cha Min resurrects the vain and petty Se Yeon (who returns to a body identical to her professional rival) and together they must hunt down the murderer- whatever his new face may be.

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Arang and the Magistrate // The Tale of Arang

Language: Korean

The foolhardy ghost of a young woman seeks to discover the truth behind her unjust death and meets a magistrate named Eun-oh, who has the ability to see ghosts. 

She is in possession of a distinct hairpin given to Eun-Oh’s missing mother- meaning Arang was holding it when she died. Eun-Oh and Arang’s search for her memories and his mother will become the focus of gods and ghouls alike.

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Ashes of Love // Heavy Sweetness, Ash-Like Frost

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Jin Mi is the secret lovechild of the Flower Deity and the Water Immortal, conceived before the Flower Deity suffers a fatal wound. 

The deity gives birth to a baby girl (Jin Mi) on her deathbed, and foresees the infant will face a terrible trial by her 10,000th year. To save her from her fate, the Flower Deity gives Jin Mi a pill that makes it impossible for her to ever feel romantic love. Upon her death, she forbids anyone in the Flower Kingdom from revealing the fact that she had a child.

Several thousand years later, Jin Mi is a bumbling little fairy trapped in The Water Mirror- a gilded prison where low-level fairies can live in peace. Jin Mi believes she is a small Grape Fairy, and lives a happy (if not dull) life within the Mirror with her friends.

When a charred bird falls from the heavens into the Water Mirror, Jin Mi decides to eat save the poor little ‘crow’-- who in reality is Xu Feng, the mighty phoenix son of the Heavenly Emperor. Her decision to not eat save the Fire God will put them at the heart of plots and schemes, romances and adventures spanning the Flower Kingdom, Heavenly Realm, Demon Kingdom, and the Realm of Mortals.

**Trigger Warning: Contains reference to off-camera sexual assault.**

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Because This is My First Life

Language: Korean

Nam Se-Hee is a single man in his early 30's. A highly logical and anti-social man, he is constantly pressured by his family to find a woman and marry her- something he has no interest in whatsoever. The only things that matter in Se-Hee’s life are his cat and working so that he can pay off the mortgage on his house in 30 years.

Yoon Ji-Ho  is a single woman in her early 30's. An assistant drama writer, she has lofty dreams and barely two pennies to rub together. The home she and her brother live in is cramped and small- doubly so once she finds out her brother has been living with a wife he never told her about. Ji-Ho is forced out of her home and- due to her financial situation- moves in with a “young woman” she’s only met via text- Nam Se-Hee.

Events unfold that will force Ji-Ho and Se-Hee into a corner from which they can only find one way out:: Enter into a strictly contracted marriage, absent love, romance, or sex, and keep up their ruse around family and friends for a period of two years.

But as time goes on, the cold and robotic Se-Hee and hopeless Ji-Ho begin to develop feelings for one another beyond that of a Landlord and a Tenant. It is only too easy for them to slip into the roles of Husband and Wife.

**Trigger Warning: On-Camera attempted rape, numerous instances of sexual harassment and non-rape assault (ie, groping)**

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Cunning Single Lady

Language: Korean

Na Aera, a woman left with crippling debt after divorcing her husband, learns her ex has become a millionaire off a mobile app she inspired during their time together. She forms a plot to seduce her ex husband, re-marry him, and then take him for half his new net-worth. Her ex is well aware of this plot, and has been waiting for a chance to get some closure of his own for their abrupt split. 

There are two questions the pair must find the answer together: How do you scheme against someone if you accidentally fall in love with them again? And why did Na Aera really decide to leave her husband in the first place?

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Dance of the Phoenix

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Feng Wu, a former genius girl in the Junwu Continent, was attacked by her old enemy Zuo Qingluan. In the attack, she lost not only her memories and abilities, but her “phoenix blood” which made her powerful.

In order to save Feng Wu her secret tutor, Master Mu Jiuzhou (a hero thought long dead whose soul is bound inside a ring Feng Wu wears around her neck), exhausted his vitality and fell into a deep coma. 

The forces Master Mu Jiuzhou were trying to keep at bay are roiling again, readying for war unless Feng Wu can recover her memories, her power, and survive long enough to release him from the ring.

But if Feng Wu at full power couldn’t stop the evil Zhuo Qingluan’s attack and save herself, what chance does “normal person” Feng Wu have?

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Dear Judge // Your Honor

Language: Korean

Han Soo-Ho and Han Kang-Ho were born as identical twins, but live totally different lives. 

Han Soo-Ho is a seemingly righteous judge, respected by all and beloved by his mother no matter how cold and dismissive he is. He is corrupt to his core and sells desired sentences to major corporations, no matter who gets hurt in the crossfire.

Han Kang-Ho, raised in his brother’s shadow, is a petty criminal with 5 separate prison terms under his belt. He flaunts the law and lives an angry and miserable life as the nobody his mother tells him he is.

When Han Soo-Ho is abducted by people intent on getting their own brand of justice, it coincides with Kang-Ho needing somewhere to hide. He secretly takes his brother’s place as a judge. He intends to just cut and run, but begins to fall for judicial intern Song So-Eun, whose blind faith in the justice system is both misguided and infectious. 

Han Kang-Ho, once considered trash by his own family, suddenly finds himself highly respected and admired. As a veteran of the criminal justice system he knows every trick and trap, but will he use his knowledge to rake in the dough like his corrupt brother, or will he wield his newfound power to bring mercy to the law?

**Trigger Warning: Contains partially on-camera rape, references to rape, assault, and themes of assault-related PTSD**

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Fairyland Lovers

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Bai Qi is a “spiritual doctor” who travels the world to rid spirits of their obsessions and stop them from becoming monsters. Eons ago he himself was at the threshold of becoming an Evil Spirit, and was saved by a Divine Warrior who helped him find a way to move past his darkness before tragically losing her life.

Isolated from the world and alone with a sprig of his lost love’s peach tree, Bai Qi meets the sunny but hapless actress Lin Xia. Not only does the tree come to life in her presence- and not only can she use the tools left behind by his lost lover- she also has the same face.

Curious, Bai Qi enters into a co-habitation agreement with Lin Xia and she helps him cleanse souls before they can turn into Evil Spirits. As their lives intersect, a memory that Bai Qi sealed away for over ten thousand years begins to surface.

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Flower of Evil

Language: Korean

Baek Hee-Sung seems like the perfect husband.

A craftsman, his hard work allowed his metal-working studio to flourish and he provides a good life for his wife, Detective Cha Ji-Won, and their young daughter. But behind his perfectly sculpted mask hides a dark secret that even his wife does not know:

Baek Hee-Sung is really Do Min-Soo, a boy believed to have aided his father in a series of grizzly serial-murders 18 years ago. 

Unfortunately, secrets have a way of coming out, and as a homicide detective, it is Cha Ji-Won’s job to uncover as many of them as she can. A murderer strikes, leaving behind all the hallmarks of the murders committed by Do Min-Soo’s father. Ji-Won finds herself on a dark path that could destroy the very foundations of her happy life.

Who is Baek Hee-Sung? What really happened eighteen years ago? And what will Cha Ji-Won do once she realizes just who she is married to?

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Guardian

Language: Chinese

Super-Detective Zhao Yunlan meets university professor (and powerful supernatural being) Shen Wei and the two men are instantly drawn together by a past one cannot forget and a future the other cannot guess. As they grow closer, they find themselves at the heart of a high-stakes supernatural battle between unknown enemies.

Will the heroic duo’s unique talents- and special bond- be enough to help them outwit the forces of darkness?

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Handsome Siblings (2020 Netflix Edition)

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Hua Wuque is a pillar of righteousness and virtue, the only male disciple of the powerful Yihua Palace cultivation clan. An orphan, he was taken in by the clan leader and her sister and raised with only one goal in life: to find and kill Jiang Xiaoyu, a mighty villain and enemy of Yihua Palace.

So who is Jiang Xiaoyu? Also known as Xiaoyu’er, Jiang Xiaoyu is an orphan himself- the same age as Hua Wuque in fact- raised by the five most feared and hated villains in the world within the confines of the Wicked Canyon. Into Jiang Xiaoyu the villains poured their knowledge, tricks, and ruthlessness, seeking to create the ultimate villain. There is only one problem: As he was raised in the Wicked Canyon and surrounded by nothing but villains, Jiang Xiaoyu mostly uses his abilities to… harm villains and protect the weak.

When Jiang Xiaoyu comes of age and leaves the Wicked Canyon (or rather, becomes too much of a trickster for the villains to handle anymore), Hua Wuque is unleashed to venture from Yihua Palace and hunt down his enemy. 

But how could someone kept confined in the Wicked Canyon for the first 18 years of his life be a threat to Yihua Palace? And why must Hua Wuque be the one to kill him (under direction that Jiang Xiaoyu cannot die naturally, be killed by someone else, or kill himself)?

There is a piece of the story Jiang Xiaoyu and Hua Wuque do not know: they are orphans of the same tragedy, in which the divine hero Jiang Feng spurned the love of both leaders of Yihua Palace for a beautiful servant named Hua Yuenu. Hua Yuenu was forced to commit suicide and Jiang Feng killed himself rather than submit to the Ladies of Yihua–

Leaving behind newborn (non-identical) twin sons.

Yihua Palace’s plot is a simple (if OTT) act of vengeance against Jiang Feng’s memory:: Force one brother to murder the other, then reveal to Hua Wuque the sin he has committed and let it drive the boy insane.

Will the truth come out before Wuque finds and kills Xiaoyu, or will the evil Ladies of Yihua Palace finally have the vengeance they have waited for for over 18 years? As Wuque and Xiaoyu’s paths cross more and more they strike up an unlikely friendship, even knowing there is no escaping their dark fate.

**Trigger Warning: Later episodes include off-camera sexual assault and on-camera depictions of near-rape.**

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Hello, My Twenties

Language: Korean

With different personalities, life goals, and taste in men, five female college students become housemates in a shared residence called Belle Epoque.

Trigger Warning: Season 1 contains scenes of abuse and forced confinement; Season 2 deals with severe PTSD.

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Hi My Sweetheart

Language: Taiwanese-Mandarin

Xue Hai is a kindhearted (and extremely wealthy) but naïve man who has been sheltered by his big sisters his entire life. He decides to go to college in China- where no one knows him- under the name Da Lang and with the image of a poor scholarship student. There Xue Hai meets the dominant, friendless, and rebellious Bao Zhu. Naturally the two fall in love, but after 4 years together, just as he’s going to reveal his identity and propose, Bao Zhu viciously dumps him.

Fast forward three more years. Xue Hai has transformed himself into a handsome but ruthless playboy who treats women as nothing more than toys to be used and cast aside. When he chances across Bao Zhu once more, he decides to launch a campaign to destroy her heart as thoroughly and mercilessly as she did his. 

Except Xue Hai is missing one important piece of their love story: Bao Zhu only left him to protect him from her domineering mother, and she has been searching for her beloved Da Lang ever since.

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Hit the Top // The Best Hit

Language: Korean

A free-spirited idol vanishes in the early 90s and reappears in 2017 where he is given a second chance to mend his previous relationships, form a bond with a son he never knew existed, and perhaps solve his own suspected murder before fate throws him back where he belongs.

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Hotel Del Luna

Language: Korean

Nestled deep in the heart of Seoul’s thriving downtown sits a mysterious hotel, the likes of which no one has ever seen before. Old beyond measure, the building has stood for millennia, an ever-present testament to the fact that things are not always what they seem. 

The Hotel Del Luna is the final place on this earth lost souls pass through before they move on to the other side. For centuries the hotel has been under the control of Man Wol- a greedy and suspicious immortal. 

When the multi-faced goddess of Fate plants a human in her path to take over as Manager of the hotel, she gives him a task: discover the truth of Man Wol’s grudge and heal her weary soul before Man Wol succumbs to past hatreds and destroys herself forever.

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The King’s Avatar

Language: Mandarin Chinese

In the online multiplayer game Glory, Ye Xiu is well known as the undisputed master of professional sports- though no one outside of the professional teams actually knows what he looks like as he hides his face from media and fans. A player since he was a child- and raised largely in professional player training camps- Ye Xiu has no understanding of the outside world.

Halfway through the season, the money-hungry company behind his team, Excellency Era, forces him out and replaces him with an undisciplined hot-shot. Penniless and with nowhere to go, Ye Xiu crosses the street and enters the Happy Internet Cafe. The owner is a diehard fan of the mysterious Ye Xiu, and hires Ye Qiu as an IT manager not for his experience, but for his shared love of the game. 

When Glory launches their tenth server, Ye Qiu throws himself into the game once more. Equipped with ten years of gaming experience, memories of an unfinished pledge to a dead friend, and an incomplete self-made weapon, Ye Qiu will rise from the ashes, forge a new team, and take back his crown.

**This drama sees actor Yang-Yang once again assume the role of Legendary Gamer, as he played previously in ‘Love O2O’ (Recommended below)

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The Lost Tomb**

Language: Mandarin Chinese

50 years ago, a group of Changsha grave robbers known as the “Mystic Nine” dug out manuscripts of the location of treasures from the Warring States period, but soon after almost the entire group was hunted down and slaughtered.

In the present, the young grandchild of the sole survivor, Wu Xie, discovers a secret within his grandfather's notes as well as half of a silk manuscript that may reveal the location of the lost tomb. But there is one problem- the other half of the manuscript is held by a shady organization of tomb raiders eager to break in and steal whatever cultural relics are inside the tomb.

Wu Xie has a "National Treasure” moment and decides that in order to stop the objects in the tomb from vanishing into the black market he will break in first and recover whatever is inside (’I’m going to steal the Declaration of Independence...’). 

Wu Xie is helped on his journey by his beloved “Third Uncle” Wu Sanxing, his uncle’s right hand man Panzi, and the mysterious Xiao Ge - a tomb raider who seems to know of traps before they are sprung and whose hand has been mutilated in a way not seen among tomb robbing families in over a century.

They expected to find a lost tomb, perhaps chase away some thieves, and learn about an exciting piece of lost history. What they did not expect was for the tomb to strike back, the dead to rise, and the past to fight and keep what secrets it holds.

Who exactly are this alternate group of tomb robbers? What are they searching for? What exactly is protecting the tomb? Whose side is Xiao Ge truly on? And- most crucially- can Wu Xie survive long enough to find the answers?

** This recommendation is part of a broader series of shows and movies, all adapted from “The Gravedigger’s Notebook” and its sequels::

The Lost Tomb (2015)

The Lost Tomb 2: Explore With the Note (2016)

Time Raiders (2016 movie)

The Mystic Nine (2016)

Tomb of the Sea (2018)

Reunion: The Sound of the Providence (which gets its own recommendation below; 2019-2020)

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Love O2O

Language: Mandarin Chinese

** O = letter, not number

Wei-Wei has both beauty and brains. A computer goddess, she aspires to be an online game developer. In her spare time, she plays her favorite online game ‘A Chinese Ghost Story’- where she has made a name for herself as the top female player on the entire server.

After her online husband dumps her, she gets a message from legendary player Yixiao Naihe- asking to become her online husband (marriages in-game offer certain benefits and quest lines single players cannot achieve).

Little does Wei-Wei know that Yixiao Naihe is also her college senior and the most desired man on campus, Xiao Nai.

Will their online chemistry lead to a real-life romance? Yes. Of course it will. It’s in the title.

** Can’t get enough of Xiao Nai (Yang-Yang) as the Legendary Gamer? Check out his new show ‘The King’s Avatar’ (Recommended above).

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My Roommate is a Detective

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Shanghai in 1925 is caught between gang leaders and the European powers colonizing China. 

A resourceful young police officer named Qiao Chu Sheng is on the trail of a brutal but devious killer. Realizing that the police force will need some extra help with this difficult case, he decides to form an elite crime-busting detective team. He reaches out Lu Yao, a Cambridge graduate a slick con-man. 

Qiao Chu Sheng has learned that Lu Yao has remarkable powers of deduction and a brilliant mind – and believes he can help crack this difficult case. To round off the team, he enlists the help of Bai You Ning, a focused young female reporter for a daily newspaper. A free-thinking, independent young woman, she has a strong sense of justice – and pledges to help catch the killer. 

The trio form a small detective squad that specializes in solving strange and unsettling murder mysteries.

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Mystic Pop-Up Bar

Language: Korean

Mystic Pop-up Bar tells the story of a mysterious outdoor drinking establishment run by an ill-tempered woman named Wol Joo, an innocent part-time employee named Han Kang Bae, and a former afterlife detective known as Chief Gwi who visit customers in their dreams to help resolve their problems.

To atone for a devastating mistake in her past life, Wol-Joo must aleviate the suffering of 100,000 individuals. After 500 years the counter stands at 99,990, but the impatient judges of the afterlife are tired of Wol-Joo’s bad attitude and increasing hatred of humanity.

She now has just one month to save 10 people, or else her soul will be destroyed forever.

**It’s worth noting the heavy similarities between Mystic Pop-Up Bar and Hotel Del Luna, though it should be said that Mystic Pop Up Bar’s script was finished first while Hotel Del Luna was made more quickly. The similarities between the two shows appears to be coincidental.

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Oh My Emperor

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Fei-Fei, a young doctor, is wounded in an accident and finds herself trapped in the ancient and mystical nation of Huang Dao. The people of Huang Dao are ruled by a king born of the stars- the physical embodiment of one of the twelve zodiac constellations. To keep discord from arising among the people, the Twelve Zodiac Masters govern together to keep the peace.

But a thirteenth sign has been forcibly subjugated, it’s Lord executed, and its people scattered to the wind. The lost sign- Ophiuchus- is rising once more- and Fei-Fei is its (unwilling) Master.

It only complicates matters slightly that Fei-Fei finds herself between the handsome and charming Master of Aquarius and his nephew- the cold Master of Capricorn (who is also the Emperor). Can Fei-Fei keep her identity secret long enough to solve the mystery of the Ophiuchus purge- or is Huang Dao doomed to destruction?

**This drama is a showpiece for members of the Chinese pop group X-Nine, do not judge it by the same standards as a traditional drama. Showpiece dramas tend to be a bit silly.

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Oh My Ghost

Language: Korean

Soon-Ae is the ghost of a woman who died a virgin. Believing getting laid is her only chance to move on before she becomes an evil spirit, she possesses the body of Bong Sun- an introvert with extremely low self esteem. 

Acknowledging it isn’t an ideal arrangement, Soon-Ae decides help Bong Sun and focuses her seductive attentions on the man Bong Sun is secretly in love with. Bong Sun reluctantly agrees, hoping Soon-Ae’s influence will make her more outgoing and self-assured.

There are two problems with the girls’ plan once it goes into motion: Bong Sun’s colleagues worry she has had a mental breakdown and refuse to take advantage of her; and the longer Soon-Ae is in Bong Sun’s body the more she remembers of her own brutal assault and murder. 

Soon-Ae’s unfinished business might have more to do with justice than tapping a hot chef, but can she solve her murder without putting Bong Sun in danger?

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Psychopath’s Diary

Language: Korean

In the wrong place at the wrong time, kind-hearted and timid Dong Shik plays witness to a gruesome murder. As if that weren’t bad enough, he stumbles across the killer’s diary-a horrible record of his heinous crimes and the psychotic ramblings of a narcissistic sociopath. 

Chased by the killer, Dong Shik runs into traffic and is hit by a police officer. After waking up from a brief coma, Dong Shik is left with 2 things: total amnesia, and the murderer’s diary. Dong Shik mistakes himself for the serial killer, and his personality begins to twist.

Can a timid man become a monster? What of the actual serial killer? With no diary to ground him, it’s only a matter of time before the killer loses what little control he once had.

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Reunion: The Sound of the Providence**

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Wu Xie, “Fatty” Wang Pangzi, and the quasi-immortal tomb raider Xiao Ge (AKA Zheng Qiling, Kylin, and “Poker Face”) have faced many dangerous tombs together over the past twelve years.

Now, it is time for them to go on their last great adventure as the so-called “Iron Triangle” before Wu Xie sets off on the journey all must eventually make: death. He always thought his end would come in a dangerous tomb, but instead it will be lung cancer that claims his life. With only 3-4 months left to live, Wu Xie hides the truth of his illness from his friends and family, revealing the truth only to Xiao Ge.

Once upon a time, Wu Xie was told that when a man meets his death he must do so with a clear conscience. But something has been weighing on Wu Xie- his Third Uncle’s disappearance at the end of their first adventure. Right on time, a message from his long lost uncle appears, setting Wu Xie on a desperate mission to find him before the cancer eating away at his body destroys him at last.

This will most likely be Wu Xie’s final journey, but he will do anything in his power to make sure his friends and family will be safe long after his time is up. In the final 3-4 months of Wu Xie’s life he will seek to unravel the mystery of the “Thunder City”- starting with the most dangerous tomb he’s ever explored, The South Sea King’s Tomb. 

The sound of thunder hides a secret men have killed for, but is there really a way to hear the words of gods within it? Someone clearly thought so, but who? Is Uncle Sanxing still alive, or is someone in the shadows guiding Wu Xie to them?

Wu Xie’s enemies thought he was dangerous before, but now he is a dying man with a mission. There is no telling what lengths he will go to in order to achieve his goals. He might just manage to die in a tomb after all...

** This recommendation is just the latest installment in an entire series of stories adapted from “The Gravedigger’s Notebook” and related novels::

The Lost Tomb (2015)

The Lost Tomb 2: Explore With the Note (2016)

Time Raiders (2016 movie)

The Mystic Nine (2016)

Tomb of the Sea (2018)

Reunion: The Sound of the Providence (2019-2020)

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The Romance of Tiger and Rose

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Chen Xiao Qian has dedicated her life to making her dream of becoming a well-respected screenwriter come true. Standing on the production set of sweeping dramas she penned through endless blood, sweat, and tears, Xiao Qian can hardly believe what she is seeing: her work, come to life!

Except it isn’t a set. And her work truly has come to life.

Her script is a simple one: the heirs of two rival cities who seek to destroy one another enter into a doomed romance that will lead to endless betrayals and a war that will kill the male lead, Han Shuo.

There is just one problem- Xiao Qian wakes in the body of Han Shuo’s first wife on the day he will murder her! The only way for Xiao Qian to return to this world is to survive the story, but in keeping herself alive longer the script begins to change, and Han Shuo begins to fall in love with the wrong person.

At first it is easy for Xiao Qian to keep herself alive- just go along with the script! But the story wants to return to the original plot, which means characters who should be friends become enemies, enemies become friends, and Xiao Qian might not live long enough to find her way home.

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Secret Healer // Mirror of the Witch

Language: Korean

Once upon a time an evil shaman helped the Crown Princess conceive twins- but into the Princess’ womb she also cast a dark curse capable of destroying the nation. Her plans were thwarted by her former mentor- who at the command of the Princess consolidated the curse from two twins into just one- the female child. The world believes the shaman destroyed the princess, burning the baby in holy flame to purge the curse- but instead he decides to raise her and try to help her break the curse upon her.

If she dies before the curse is lifted, it will unleash hell and destroy the nation. To break the curse she must fulfill wishes- but the evil shaman’s life is bound to the curse she cast so long ago. As the curse starts to break, she realizes the child is not as dead as she was lead to believe and begins a campaign to root her out and destroy her.

The princess forms a bond with a young scholar who becomes entangled in the princess’ curse and will stop at nothing to help free her. Her curse carries a catch though: Anyone she loves will die... and anyone who loves her will also perish.

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Strong Woman Do Bong Soon

Language: Korean

A freakishly strong- but totally sweet- woman is caught between the love of her arrogant but handsome boss and her disinterested lifelong crush. 

Her boss wants her to embrace her supernatural strength and use it proudly, but she loves that her crush treats her like someone weak and in need of protection. Bong Soon will have to chose for herself if she will suppress her strength for her childhood crush or unleash herself to protect those she loves. 

A murderer prowling the streets might make that decision for her though...

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The Untamed

Language: Mandarin Chinese

On the cliffs of the Nightless City, upon defeating his enemies in a bloody slaughter, the cruel and vicious Yiling Patriarch- Wei Wuxian- threw himself to his death.

Sixteen years later, he is resurrected by a madman and given a second chance to right what went so terribly wrong long ago. Wei Wuxian reunites with the honorable, righteous, and stern Lan Wangji- his confidant, soulmate, and best friend. 

How can someone as upstanding as Lan Wangji befriend the monstrous and hated Yiling Patriarch? What turned the happy and popular Wei Wuxian into the man who slaughtered thousands at Nightless by weaponizing the souls of the dead? 

And what terrible secret was Wuxian resurrected to unearth?

The past is not always what it seems, and there is no clean line between right and wrong.

**This story is told in two sections: Episode 2 enters a 30-episode flashback sequence showing Wei Wuxian’s path from popular youth to the monster upon the Cliffs of Nightless, with the first 1.5 episodes, and the last 20, dealing with the “present”. Don’t worry if you’re lost when the show starts, that is by design.

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You’re Beautiful

Language: Korean

Go Mi Nyeo has only one goal in life: To take her final vows and become a nun. Her twin brother, Go Mi Nam, desires nothing more than the life of an idol so that he can use his fame to find their missing mother. 

Go Mi Nam’s dream is in jeopardy after a botched surgery and his twin must put her life on hold to quite literally step into his shoes and cover for her brother. 

She joins the band A.N.JELL and quickly ends up on the bad side of their more devil-like leader. Can Go Mi Nyeo hide her true identity from her band-mates long enough for her brother to return?

No. No she cannot. By the end of the first day all but one- the goofy and loving Jeremy- know that she is no man... But they let her think she’s fooled them. It’s funnier that way.

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W: Two Worlds

Language: Korean

Is it possible to live in the same place at the same time, but in a completely different dimension?

Yeon Joo is a second-year cardiothoracic resident doctor. Her father, creator of the world famous web series ‘W’ suddenly disappears one day. While searching for him Yeon Joo finds a strange man covered in blood and only barely manages to resuscitate him before the words “To Be Continued” flash across her vision and he disappears.

When she returns, there is a new chapter of her father’s blockbuster series available online- one that features a doctor with her exact name and clothing saving a man covered in blood...

Where is Yeon Joo’s father? How is the story updating itself? As she is dragged into the world of ‘W’ with increasing frequency Yeon Joo and the story’s leading man, Kang Chul, must answer the most important question of all:

Is it possible something from that world escaped into this one?

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Well Intended Love (Season 1: Drama Version)

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Seasons 1 and 2 of “Well Intended Love” feature the same stars playing the same characters, but the storylines are alternate-universes of one another telling the story from a different genre. Each season is its own wholly contained entity that does not impact- and is not impacted by- the other season in any way.

A third-rate actress with leukemia becomes entangled with the handsome but cold CEO Ling.

In order to receive a bone marrow transplant and contniue her career as an actress, Xia Lin enters into a secret marriage with Ling Yi Zhou. Despite the conspiracies and misunderstandings they encounter, the two begin to find true love.

But one question nags at Xia Lin’s mind:: Why did the cold, controlling, and distant Ling YiZhou need her to play the role of wife?

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Well Intended Love (Season 2: Rom-Com Version)

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Seasons 1 and 2 of “Well Intended Love” feature the same stars playing the same characters, but the storylines are alternate-universes of one another telling the story from a different genre. Each season is its own wholly contained entity that does not impact- and is not impacted by- the other season in any way.

Rising TV superstar Xia Lin finds herself embroiled in scandal after a run-in with business mogul Ling Yizhou at a party. To clear up any misunderstandings the two prepare a joint press conference-- where Xia Lin is stunned by Ling Yizhou’s statement that the two are- in fact- an engaged couple.

Ling Yizhou convinces Xia Lin to play fiancee for a period of one year, after which they can go their separate ways. To save face in front of her fans, Xia Lin agrees. She gradually begins to fall for the lovable and doting Ling Yizhou.

Someone works in the shadows to destroy everything Ling Yizhou holds dear- and the closer he gets to the heart of the conspiracy, the more he realizes Xia Lin may have a target on her back as well.

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What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim

Language: Korean

Can you be so self-absorbed that you have no idea what’s truly going on around you? Yeong Joon is Vice President of his family-owned company, Yoomyung Group. He is so narcissistic that he doesn’t pay attention to what his trusty secretary Kim Mi So is trying to tell him most of the time.

After nine years of making Yeong Joon look good and stroking his very large ego, Mi So decides to quit her job, citing a desire for a life outside of work and the chance to fall in love. Yeong Joon does not take the disruption of his routine well, and decides the only logical course of action is to make Mi So fall in love with him, thus guaranteeing she will stay by his side.

A dark secret from Yeong Joon’s past may hold the key to why he can’t let her go, but will Mi So stick around long enough to discover the truth?

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[peepingtoad]

A Birthday Gift

|| @super-kame-love:-

For the past two weeks, she had been deliberating what to give him a little harder than perhaps she should. Just days before, she had, once again, contemplated taking things to the next level. As in seducing him the next time he comes to visit. For real.

But all her ideas, no matter how erotic and tempting they had started as, had fallen apart and hardened into a knot of dread in her chest, the origin for which she had only just begun to elucidate. Where is this going? Does he feel the same way? Would those feelings change if he knew her in her entirety? 

What if she’d turn out to be bad in bed? 

For now, she had decided to shelf her desires again and settle for mailing him a gift: the usual care package with snacks and supplies, with the inclusion a new journal, because he will surely run out of the space in the one(s) he has. The journal is maroon, accompanied with her piece of paper with her signature on it, a turtle. She could not sort out her thoughts in time to put them into the right words. 

Tucked in the middle of its pages are three dried, pressed flowers tied together with red ribbon. Fresh ones wouldn’t have survived the trip. 

All camellias. Red, white, yellow. “In love.” “Waiting.” “Longing.”

Is it too soon to confess her feelings? Too soon to even call it being in love? Has she teased him too much? 

She takes a deep breath. Whatever sort of love it is, it must be love. And it would have had to come out, eventually.  

She wonders as she watches it go with the mail how fluent he is in the language of flowers. Whether he’ll understand what she means, and how he’ll respond. 

Little did Aina realise how simple a man Jiraiya was in certain ways, despite being a much-hailed hero of Konoha, despite being a wanderer whose duties and spirit took him far from home, and despite actually being rather enigmatic to those who could sense that more may lie beneath his gregarious smile and foolish airs. Truly, there was nothing that could keep someone planted firmly in his mind quite like a bit of push and pull, a bit of ‘will we won’t we’… yes, even when the open road had recently called for him to stray far from it, all in pursuit of another, serpentine someone.

Or a potential lead that would hopefully deliver him to the serpentine someone, at least.

Strangely enough though, it wasn’t just simmering unresolved chemistry that kept the Aina flame alive in his thoughts. 

She always made sure to make frequent gestures of care and affection wherever possible, not even allowing distance to get in her way. Supplies and treats sent by shinobi post were becoming ever more common during his stints away, or even just exchanges of notes or small letters (a rather bittersweet reminder for him, both warming and a cause for aches of the heart). She poured every ounce of thought for him in what she sent, when, and how she presented it. 

Now, for someone who was far more used to feelings of care and attachment being squashed down, denied or just never developing, it was all quite novel to Jiraiya. He didn’t always know what to make of it, but the idea of potentially having a ‘sweetheart back home’… was quite a comforting thing to be able to carry around with him.

But still, more than anything, he simply couldn’t see why he was someone Aina would want to try and demonstrate her value to, as if he was some great catch. Maybe for a fun night here and there, sure. But he never made any secret of his lifestyle, and still she seems happy to keep waiting for him every time… although there was something distinctly unhappy about her too, it always seemed. Not for any lack of putting on her best face, but because Jiraiya could sense repression remarkably well. Repressed folks were never happy, and in many instances Aina was practically abuzz with thoughts and feelings unexpressed.

Except for when they were physically apart, and the things she’d send would say so many subtle little things that never quite managed to surface in any space they physically shared—but always, without fail, was that overarching thoughtfulness that made itself clear in every item.

When this bundle of supplies was delivered to him, it wasn’t a shock to find a little extra gift in there for his birthday—a very nice journal, which happened to only be about a dozen pages away from becoming a necessity. But it was what lay inside, nestled between the pages as he leafed through them, that saw his affected smile drop in favour of a quizzical twist.

Red, yellow, white camellias… he knew flowers, didn’t he? He always used to dish them out for Valentine’s, back before the Second War when there was enough time in the day (sometimes) to arm oneself with such… vital knowledge. Scraping his memory with numerous chin taps and cheek scratches, it finally hit him.

And he wasn’t sure what to think.

The meaning behind these… it was too big and too soon, surely?

He cared about Aina, he truly did. But it was difficult for him to bond with someone new, when so much from his past kept him either mired mentally or sent him far afield physically. It was difficult for him to bond, when he had no idea about all the things she decided not to say. The last thing he wanted was to lead her on, and yet he needed her to know that he wasn’t uninterested. 

And he’d find a flower to express that.

It mattered not how limited his choice in flower was right now, for all around this small town were the perfect ones: hydrangeas, either in large shrubs or what could be classed practically as small trees. That being said, the world was creeping closer into winter, and everywhere he looked there seemed only to be strewn petals from those blooms that had shattered. Then, his gaze landed on one—a rare one that had survived for so long still attached to its stem, which he spared no time in plucking, admittedly feeling a little apologetic for ending its good run.

Hydrangeas, a symbol of affection and an apology for being too busy to nurture it… that was the story he always knew, the one about the emperor, which seemed fitting. However, another unusual thing about this bloom was that the colours blended in such varying degrees of pink, blue and purple that he couldn’t say which was the dominant hue. Purple, for a desire to understand someone better. Blue, a desire for forgiveness. Pink… romance.

It was perfect, really, wasn’t it?

So it was that a messenger toad was sent back to Konoha, making impressive time on account of its speed and knowledge of all the secret ways in the land. Attached to that lucky bloom that the toad would present to Aina having found her, after unsealing it from a scroll that had preserved its colour, was a note of Jiraiya’s own thanking her for the well-timed journal, and also bearing a little hand-drawn frog.

[tinyandsteven]

Tony’s Guide to Raising An Alien Child

3k Words.

Helping a stranded alien child wasn’t on Tony’s agenda, nor growing fond of said child.

or; Tony adopts an alien child.

Also on ao3

The Audi purred under Tony’s touch. The leather of the steering wheel was nice and cold under his tight grip, which brought a comfort to him. The firm hold grounded him, eased away the emptiness that threatened to creep over his skin deep down into his bones until it swallowed him whole.

He had just visited Jarvis’ grave and brought him some fresh flowers. Tony had lit a candle while he leaned against the gravestone and told Jarvis about everything that happened since the last time he visited him. It always put him in a melancholy mood, like someone had punched him in the chest and left a hole that let all the good memories with Jarvis bleed to the surface.

It was Jarvis who was there for him when Howard pushed, beat, and broke him, time and time again. He would clean the wounds, listen to Tony’s silent, stuttered apologies and explanations, offering a comfort that Howard never even thought of. The man was more of a father to Tony than Howard ever was, so Tony missed him dearly.

It had been a hard day. He had a nightmare that had woken him up with a start, leaving him sweat-soaked and panting. Flashes of dirty water disrupted his vision - people yelling at him, pushing his head into a tank with ice-cold water as the car battery attached to his chest sent sparks of electricity to his core, numbing his insides. His burning lungs were the only thing that reminded him that he was still alive, that he was still breathing. Oh, how he wished he wasn’t in that moment. Immediately upon waking, he had checked for a hole in his chest; searching for guards who would push him right under and a friend who was no longer alive.

Pepper had broken up with him after the palladium poisoning fiasco and took away the only healthy coping mechanism and form of comfort. She might be tough and collected for the public eye, but provided Tony with loving words and soothing touches, a steady and kind presence in his life that would calm him like no other. She had promised to be always there for him and listen to him, but he felt awkward even mentioning his nightly terrors to her now. It seemed too intimate, and they weren’t close like that anymore. It wasn’t her fault. He would never blame her.

So he did what he always did to take his mind off of his troubles: he took the day off to get out of the city and visit his old friend. A change of scenery was supposed to work wonders, Pepper once told him, and so he tried - but all the visit really did was make him more mournful than he already was.

The highway back into the city was empty as if the world seemed to know that Tony Stark needed a moment to himself. He had opened the convertible hood of the car before he started his journey home to feel the wind blow in his face. The red-tinted sunglasses on his nose covered the tear streaks running down his face. The sunset reflected in Tony’s sunglasses, tinting the world in a peaceful and comfortable ambiance.

A deafening noise and a blinding light pulled Tony from his thoughts, and he slammed on the brakes. For a moment the car slithered over the road before he managed to stop it on the side of the highway. The genius stilled in his seat, his knuckles white from the tight grip on the steering wheel. He slowly turned his head to where the crash had coming from.

“J.A.R.V.I.S, activate the gauntlet,” Tony mumbled while he tapped a code into his watch, his eyes still trained into the distance. The armor covered his wrist and snuck up his palm before it wrapped around his finger. The repulsor charged, ready to attack. He was always prepared for a fight, no longer trusting anyone. Not after Stane’s betrayal.

Tony slowly stepped out of the car, leaving the door open in case he had to escape quickly. He stepped closer to the crash site. Whatever had caused the loud noise was obscured by a cloud of dust.

“Is anyone hurt? Do you need help?” Tony yelled, his covered hand stretched out. Coughing and rumbling could be heard as the cloud started to vanish. Tony made out a bizarre, round construction that looked a lot like a spaceship he had seen in the Star Wars movies with Pepper. He had never seen a car in such a shape.

It didn’t have any wheels like the cars he had on the lower levels of his lab. No typical form of an automobile and he couldn’t make out a steering wheel on the inside of the odd-looking thing.

His stomach was slowly sinking, brows furrowing as the realization started to sink in. It wasn’t a car. It was an extraterrestrial plane. No, not a plane. A ship. It was a real spaceship. It didn’t seem possible, and yet here it was.

The machine seemed to give up on life, the sounds and blinking lights fading. He averted his eyes from the ship to a small figure crawling away from the ship. Was the person purple or was his mind playing tricks on him again? Tony took off the glasses and squinted, not ready to come closer to whatever was trying to escape.

“Hey, you! Stop!” he shouted at the figure. The person turned around in what seemed like utter shock. Its skin was no longer purple but matched his own now. Was it purple to begin with? God, Tony needed to get a nice drink once he got home, catch some rest and forget today ever happened.

Tony took a closer look and soon realized that he was looking at a cowering boy - a boy that looked more afraid than Tony felt. Huh, he thought. He didn’t even seem like a threat.

Tony let his hand sink and crouched down to be eye level with the boy. He looked not a day older than fourteen, with big, brown, doe-like eyes and a mop of messy curls on top of his head. Were those antennas?

The child blinked at him, seemingly contemplating what to do next. He didn’t move or breathe, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Tony cleared his throat before he spoke. He tried to keep his voice soft and low, forgetting about his former turmoil. “Hey, I am Tony. I won’t hurt you if you promise to not hurt me, even though I doubt you’ll get very far with your ship.” he snorted at his last words, lifting both hands in a peace offering.

The Alien boy’s eyes followed Tony’s hand, widening every passing moment as he took in the gauntlet. Golden dots and tiny strokes appeared under his eyes and on his neck, running down his arms to his knuckles, illuminating his pale skin. The antennas started to vibrate.

Tony watched in wonder as the boy’s skin started to glow, fascinated with his reactions. He eventually followed the boy’s gaze to his hands and realized his mistake.

“Oh, you’re afraid of the armor,” Tony concluded and wiggled his finger. A smile crept on his face as he asked J.A.R.V.I.S to deactivate the gauntlet. The red glove disappeared back into his watch, leaving not only his hand bare but also his whole being. He was vulnerable without his armor, but the boy didn’t seem to be a threat, so he figured he was safe for now.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying?” Tony asked the boy, letting his arms fall. The boy nodded slowly and deliberately.

“My head is able to translate your language into mine, and my language into yours when I speak,” the little alien whispered, his shoulders still tense and on alert, like Tony would still attack him any second. He reminded the man of a frightened animal. With a sigh, Tony fell to his knees and stretched out his hand, palm up, not even caring about dirtying his expensive dress pants.

“I have no intention of hurting you. You wanna know how I see the situation?” he gave the alien a moment for a reaction and continued after a boy gave him a tiny nod.

“You crashed on a foreign planet and you have no way of taking off again anytime soon, because, I am sorry to say, buddy, your ship seems to be quite useless at the moment. So you are basically stranded here alone and not knowing anyone,” Tony guessed. The man’s words made the boy’s shoulder sag with every word. The young alien started to fiddle with his hands in a nervous manner and turned his eyes away from Tony and to his damaged ship, noticeably shaken from the fact that the man was correct about his situation.

“I am Peter,” he mumbled after a while. “and you are right.” Peter looked up again, his eyes fixed on Tony’s while he tugged on the sleeves of his silver suit. “I don - I don’t know what to do or where to go.” the boy admitted after a while, his tense posture dropped in defeat.

Oh, how Tony wished he could just turn around, get into his car, drive home and pretend this never happened. The whiskey that was stashed away in one of the kitchen cabinets would surely help with the process of forgetting, but the boy seemed helpless and something inside Tony pulled at his heartstrings. He could leave Peter there, letting him fend for himself and not deal with the consequences of suggesting what he was about to suggest. Tony let his eyes fall shut and hummed, just considering the options.

Someone would find the ship eventually. It was quite large. People would ask questions and the government would bring out their big guns to search for whoever crashed the spaceship in the first place. They would find Peter at some point because the alien probably couldn’t go very far without any help and Tony doubted that the boy had any knowledge about humans. He would step right into their trap and they would lock him up and experiment on him. And did Tony really want that on his conscience?

“Look, kid, I am a mechanic. I can get someone to pick up your ship and help you get it fixed.” Tony eventually said with a heavy sigh, taking a look at the ship as well. He had to see if he could work with the hardware and make sure that repair parts were available.

Peter seemed hesitant at first. The boy chewed on his lips, considering his options as well. “Why would you help me?” Peter asked the man, a wary look in his eyes. Eyes that looked suspiciously a lot like Tony’s.

“What other options do you have, hm? That’s the best outcome, really. You could either accept my help or get caught and be experimented on,” Tony explained with a shrug. “And you remind me of myself,” he added under his breath.

Tony didn’t lie. The young alien reminded him of himself. He not only shared some significant features with the man, like the exact same shape of his eyes but also acted like a younger Tony.

Peter looked at him for a solid minute, not blinking once before he stood up. He dusted off some dirt from his suit and put his hands on his hips.

“Alright, Tony. Show me the way. How many moon rises till we get to your accommodation?” The young alien asked the man and started to march in the wrong direction. He had gone from scared and afraid to determined and purposeful. For a moment Tony wondered whether or not he made the right decision to take in a stranded alien boy. After all, what did he know about aliens? And who knew what intentions this particular alien had. Tony did have a record of trusting the wrong people.

“Kid, come on. That’s not the way. I parked my car over there.” Tony stopped the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning him around. He pointed to his parked vehicle on the highway. The boy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, a curious expression crept on his features.

“What is a car, Tony?” he asked with furrowed brows. A quick glance at the hand on his shoulder made the boy stop in his tracks. The touch had nothing intimidating about it. It was rather guiding, Peter decided. None of his senses started to ring and alarm him. Tony seemed to be a genuine person with sincere intentions. He could trust him for now.

“It’s a little like your space ship here. It can’t fly and I bet it’s not as fast, but it transports us where we need to go.” Tony informed him and started to walk towards the car, pushing the boy forward as well.

“Okay.” It took Peter a few moments but eventually he started walking. The man’s hand was comforting on his back. After spending so much time alone on his ship, he started to miss other presences next to him. He got lonely pretty quickly and being able to interact with a person after so long, even if the man was a stranger to him, was refreshing.

It was quite a sight to see the boy stop in front of the car. Confusion laced the alien’s features as he crossed his arms, his antennas vibrating. Tony opened the passenger door for him.

“Come on, kid. It’s getting late. It was a difficult day for me so I would appreciate if we could just go home and sort this mess out tomorrow, huh?” Tony dragged a tired hand over his face, scratching his goatee. Peter did as he was told, his eyes never leaving the older man. Tony closed the door and got into the driver’s seat. “And if I am lucky, this whole day turns out to be just a bad dream,” he muttered under his breath. Not really wanting for Peter to hear any of it in case this mess was not a dream after all.

“What is a kid? You have been calling me that.” Peter asked as soon as Tony helped the boy to fasten the belt.

“Well, it’s another term for a child,” Tony said after a while, trying to get back onto the road. A throbbing pain started to spread from the front of his head to his temples. A migraine was exactly what was missing in this situation.

God, what was he even doing, picking up a stray alien? Pepper would know what to do in such a situation. She was the rational one. The one who always saw the big picture. But wasn’t that the reason why Tony drove her away in the end? Because he was lacking all these qualities? Pepper was everything Tony wasn’t, and in the end, Tony wasn’t enough to keep her by his side.

“I will let you know, that I am in no way a child! I am three moon changes old.” Peter informed him, while his eyes wandered over the board computer. He compared the screens, buttons and hand gear to his own ship, letting his fingertips slide over it.

Tony didn’t answer the young alien, not only because he was tired but the headache made it impossible to think straight, especially when the boy let words and phrases slip that made no sense to the genius. The man just hummed in acknowledgment.

Peter was silent during the drive, that was until they entered the busy streets of New York. They spend more time standing and waiting in the traffic than actually driving. Peter had his hands and face pressed against the window, watching the bustle of the city with a curious twinkle in his eyes. Tony winced at the action. The boy would leave handprints and stains all over the window, much to Happy’s chagrin. He could already see the man getting into a fuss about it.

Tony could feel the excitement radiating from the alien. He watched Peter turning in his seat and getting comfortable on his knees. Little wows and ohs slipped past his lips in astonishment. Tony’s finger drummed on the steering wheel as he watched the boy, waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

“Peter,” he addressed the child while he grabbed something from the back seat and placed it in the kid’s lap. “Put this on.”

Peter averted his eyes from the outside world to the fabric in his lap. He adjusted in his seat to get comfortable, examining the piece of clothing. It was a top but with long sleeves and a what seemed to be like a hood. It was a thicker material than the fabric of his suit and had Stark Industries written on the chest. It was softer than any of the tight suits Peter had to wear since he was born.

“What is it for?” Peter asked, his brows furrowed and his head tilted. He looked a little like a puppy.

“We’re almost there. It will help hide your - well your, you know,” Tony pointed to the antennas. “Humans don’t have those. The hoodie will prevent unwanted attention.”

Peter looked up to where Tony had pointed, nudging one of his antennas. The antennas were a sensitive area and the touch made him giggle.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice that they were still there. My transformation wasn’t as successful as I thought it was.��� The boy said, while he pulled the sweater over his head. “Also I think it’s the right moment to inform you that I copied about 97% of your DNA to look like a human.”

Tony should have been horrified by the boy’s confession, but he was tired and strung out and it was a really really long day for him. Now, he hadn’t the time to unpack all of that. It could all wait till tomorrow. He huffed in response and tried not to yell and honk at the next bastard that tried to cut him off. All he wanted was to go home and fall into his from Japan exported silk sheets and sleep for three days straight. Maybe in another life.

[illuminating-the-darkness]

Fruit:

Fruit is a vessel by which the seeds of plants attempt to embed themselves into fecal matter through the digestive tract of animals in order to improve the chances of growing in good moist soil and also insuring that the animal spreads the seed far from the parent plant as the animal is likely to excreet at a distance from its food source, to do this fruit has to have a pleasing taste so that animals will want to eat it and as such most fruit is full of natural sugars making most of them sweet to the taste however others are more bitter or juicy enough to provide hydration, interestingly some give off spices in an attempt to defend themselves against being eaten. Fruits tend to be high in vitamins, natural minerals and benefitial chemicals. Fruits usually grow on trees, bushes and vines. The following is a partial list of fruits:

-Some fruits are poisonous, this will be dealt with in later posts.

Apple:

Apples are rounded fruit that can be yellow, green, red or pink or some combination of these colours. Apples are sweet and moist to the taste although some can be slightly bitter. Apples are produced by Apple Tree’s which are members of the rose family. Apples have soft interiors of white-green flesh and a hard central core containing seeds, the leftover cores become the bed for the seeds within when a new tree grows. Apples begin to grow in Spring and mature in Autumn. Apples have a long association with witchcraft from their depictions in fairytales such as the poison Apple in snow white to the theological depictions of Apples as the fruit of knowledge in the garden of Eden, making Apples in turn a symbol of knowledge and curses in fact the Latin word for Apple is “Malus” which has influenced the English language as “Malice” meaning “to do evil”. In the Paganism of ancient Greece, Apples were also depicted as golden immortality bestowing fruits guarded by the Earth Goddess Gaia’s own dragons and one carved with an inscription designed to provoke a fued amongst Goddesses was used by the Goddess of chaos Eris in an event which sparked the Trojan war. Apples are Venus ruled fruits with many associations with the Goddess including love, fertility and pregnancy, a slices Apple also reveals the five pointed star pattern associated with Venus and Apple tree leaves and flowers are also five pointed, staring into the centre of a cut Apples core can be used in divination practices. Apples once fermented produce alcoholic cider. Apples scents are associated with love and fertility in inscence. Apples have a number of medical uses, Apples can clean the teeth, improve blood sugar levels, reduce stomach acidity, neutralise gout, lower cholesterol, help to purify water when mixed, sooth fever and the crushed leaves can prevent infection when applied to fresh wounds as can Apple cider vinegar which can also help sore throats.

Apricot:

Apricot is a fleshy peach-orange coloured round fruit bearing a central pip or stone which is its seed. Apricots grow on Apricot trees and have short seasons of maturing in early Spring. Apricots prefer warm climates. Apricots taste either sweet or tart and are not very juicy. Apricots are associated with Venus for their five pointed flowers and as such Apricots are associated with love, fertility, beauty, art and attraction. Apricots are most specifically associated with pregnancy due to the pip/kernal in their centre representing a baby within the womb they can therefore be used to promote fertility and health in pregnancy or as Curse effigies in attempting to cause miscarriages. The wooden kernal can also be carved for use in amulets or as runestones. Apricots are thought to be able to reduce tumours when refined as an oil salve. Apricots are also used for their juices in cosmetic skin care. Apricots also have antioxidant effects when ingested which is good for heart disease and diabetes treatments.

Avocado:

Avocados are a tropical and Mediterranean fruit that grows on trees. Avocados are pear shaped or spherical and have dark green almost ribbed, hard cortex’s which soften and brown with ripeness. The inner flesh of an Avocado is a soft light green-cream colour. Avocados prefer warm enviroments with little to no wind, lots of water and require well aerated soil. Avocado can cause allergic reactions in people with allergies and is poisonous to some animals however to humans the fruit tastes savoury. Avocados have a central kernal and like all fruit which has this characteristic the Avacado therefore represents pregnancy and is related to fertility and child birth, this means that it can also be used as a curse effigy in attempting to cause miscarriage. The wooden kernal can also be carved for use in amulets or as runestones. Avocados are good for the heart and blood and contain chemicals which are good for the eyes they are also high in benefitial fats.

Banana:

Bananas are long curved yellow, red or purple fruits that grow in clusters on Banana plants often mistaken for trees. Bananas are somewhat crescent shaped and as such have a slightly phallic apperance. Bananas are green before ripening and turn brown or black when over ripe. Bananas are soft and have a creamy yellow-white, red, purple or brown interiors under their peel. Bananas have a sweet moist taste. Bananas grow in tropical climates. Bananas can be fermented to make alcoholic wines and beers. Due to their high levels of potassium Bananas generate minuet amounts of radioactivity. Banana peels can be used to extract heavy metals from contaminated river waters, when powdered and used for filtration by mixing over 45 minuets, up to 65% of heavy metals can be removed from the water this process can also be repeated for further purification. In some cultures such as in Thailand and Indonesia Bananas are believed to be inhabited by certain ghosts and spirits. Banana fibers and bark can be used to make paper and can be boiled and worked into fibres while Banana leaves are waterproof. Due to its crescent and phallic shape Bananas are associated with the moon and with fertility particularly in cures meant to prevent impotence and thus Bananas are sometimes associated with masculine energy. Bananas are also associated with luck and fortune. Bananas can be used as food medicine in the treatments of diabetes, hypertension, cancer, ulcers, diarrhoea, urolithiasis, Alzheimer's and infections. Bananas can also be used for slight pain relief and the leaves or peels can be used to dress wounds.

Bell Pepper:

Bell Peppers are large slightly cubic shaped fruits which come in green, orange, red, yellow, purple and white colours. Although commonly thought of as vegetables Bell Peppers are actually berries. Bell Peppers prefer warm climates and moist soils. Bell Peppers have a slightly sweet but savoury juicy taste and are mostly hollow, Bell Peppers have a central lump of flesh with many small spicy yellow seeds attached to it, the walls of the Pepper are cut into slices or chunks when used in cooking. Bell Peppers contain chemicals which help the eyes and also reduce blood clotting, they also lower cholesterol and help to protect against cancers. Bell Peppers are also good for improving memory and promoting weight loss.

Blackberry:

Blackberries are small round purple-black berries which grow on thorny tangling bramble shrubs. Blackberries appear as though composed of lots of smaller berries as they have a bumpy surface of round juicy blobs in a spherical cluster that make up the berry as a whole. Blackberries contain red-purple juices which can be used as dyes. Blackberries have a sweet taste and can be fermented to produce alcoholic wine and cider, blackberries are also often ground or cooked into jellies and jams. While Blackberries are often harvested in Summer and Autumn but there are folklores that suggests fey and other spirits putrify Blackberries in mid October, this is because colder wet weather promotes molds in the fruit which may be toxic. Because Blackberry brambles are vine like and barbed they can be used in binding spells and curses, bramble thorns are often used in effigy cursing where the effigy is pierced by the thorn in an attempt to cause pain to the victim the effigy represents. Being member of the rose family and having five pointed white or pink flowers Blackberries are associated with Venus all be it with the dark side of the Goddess, this means that Blackberries take on association with love and fertility. Blackberries are effective barriers as their tightly-knit and barbed vines are difficult to pass through this means that smudge stricks made from the twigs are effective at creating spiritual barriers from the belief that as it is physically difficult to pass through so is its essence spiritually hard to pass through, this also means brambles symbolise protection. Blackberries are especially good for the liver and kidneys. The chewed leaves of Blackberries and the shoots brewed into teas can be used to treat mouth ailments such as sores. Tea made from bramble root, bark and leaves is also used in treating coughs. The bramble leaves and root can also be used to treat stomach and intestine problems such as diarrhoea. Bramble leaves also have antibacterial properties and can be used to clean wounds, they also have a cooling effect on burns and skin disorders. Blackberries are also thought to relieve menstrual issues such as period cramps.

Blackcurrant:

Blackcurrants are small spherical black berries that grow on flowering marshland shrubs. Blackcurrants taste sweet and are commonly used to create jams and jellies. Blackcurrants produce deep deep purple juices which can be used to make blue or purple dyes and when fermented produce alcohol cider. Blackcurrants rippen in midsummer and can be harvested through till late Autumn. The Blackcurrant shrub produces strong aromas which can make it useful in producing incenses. The entire Blackcurrant plant can be used to produce teas which are good for promoting blood flow, helping the immune system as well as promoting eye, gut and kidney health and may reduce risk of diabetes. Blackcurrants are full of antioxidants which are good for treating heart and brain diseases and has cosmetic applications in promoting healthy skin for anti-aging treatments. Blackcurrants can also soothe sore throats and treat flu symptoms. Blackcurrant leaves are antimicrobial, anti-inflammatory, antiviral, antitoxin, antiseptic and provide treatment of cancer. Since Blackcurrants have anti-inflammatory properties they can also be used to treat pain, stiffness, soreness and reduce joint and musclar pains. Blackcurrant seed oil can also treat menstrual issues and relieve period cramps. Blackcurrant leaves are diaphoretic and diuretic promoting urination and relief for constipation when made into teas and drunk they are also good for the nerves and nervous system related ailments.

[thelingspace]

Capturing Swedish Islands (Linguistically)

An interesting question found its way into our inbox recently, asking about relative clauses in Swedish, and wondering whether their unique characteristics might pose a problem for some of the linguistic theories we’ve talked about on our channel. So if you want a discussion of syntax, Swedish, and subjacency (with some eye-tracking thrown in), this is for you!

So yes, there is a hypothesis that Swedish relative clauses break one of the basic principles by which language is thought to work. In particular, it’s been claimed that one of the governing principles of language is Subjacency, which basically says that when words move around in a sentence, like when a statement gets turned into a question, those words can’t move around without limit. Instead, they have to hop around in small skips and jumps to get to their destination. To make this more concrete, consider the sentence in (1).

     (1) Where did Nick think Carol was from?

The idea goes that a sentence like this isn’t formed by moving the word “where” directly from the end to the beginning, as in (2). Instead, we suppose that it happens in steps, by moving it to the beginning of the embedded clause first, and then moving it all the way to the front of the sentence as a whole, shown in (3).

     (2a) Did Nick think Carol was from where?

     (2b) Where did Nick think Carol was from _?

     (3a) Did Nick think Carol was from where?

     (3b) Did Nick think where Carol was from _?

     (3c) Where did Nick think _ Carol was from _?

One of the advantages of supposing that this is how questions are formed is that it’s easy to explain why some questions just don’t work. The question in (4) sounds pretty weird — so weird that it’s hard to know what it’s even supposed to mean. (The asterisk marks it as unacceptable.)

     (4) *Where did Nick ask who was from _?

The explanation behind this is that the intermediate step that “where” normally would have made on its way to the front is rendered impossible because the “who” in the middle gets in its way. It’s sitting in exactly the spot inside the structure of the sentence that “where” would have used to make its pit stop.

More generally, Subjacency is used as an explanation for ‘islands,’ which are the parts of sentences where words like “where” and “when” often seem to get stranded. And one of the most robust kinds of island found across the world’s languages is the relative clause, which is why we can’t ever turn (5) into (6).

     (5) Nick is friends with a hero who lives on another planet

     (6) *Where is Nick friends with a hero who lives _?

Surprisingly, Swedish — alongside other mainland Scandinavian languages like Norwegian — seems to break this rule into pieces. The sentence in (7) doesn’t have a direct translation into English that sounds very natural.

    (7a) Såna blommor            såg    jag    en man som sålde på torget

    (7b) Those kinds of flowers    saw    I    a man that sold in square-the    (gloss)

    (7c) *Those kinds of flowers, I saw a man that sold in the square

So does that mean we have to toss all our progress out the window, and start from scratch? Well, let’s not be too hasty. For one, it’s worth noting that even the English version of the sentence can be ‘rescued’ using what’s called a resumptive pronoun, filling the gap left behind by the fronted noun phrase “those kinds of flowers.”

     (8) Those kinds of flowers, I saw a man that sold them in the square

For many speakers, the sentence in (8) actually sounds pretty good, as long as the pronoun “them” is available to plug the leak, so to speak. At the very least, these kinds of sentences do find their way into conversational speech a whole lot. So, whether a supposedly inviolable rule gets broken or not isn’t as black-and-white as it might appear. What’s maybe a more compelling line of thinking is that what look like violations of these rules on the surface can turn out not to be, once we dig a little deeper. For instance, the sentence in (9), found in Quebec French, might seem surprising. It looks like there’s a missing piece after “exploser” (“blow up”), inside of a relative clause, that corresponds directly to “l'édifice” (“the building”) — so, right where a gap shouldn’t be possible.

     (9a) V'là l'édifice qu'y a un gars qui a fait exploser _

     (9b) *This is the building that there is a man who blew up

But that embedded clause has some very strange properties that have given linguists reasons to think it’s something more exotic. For one, the sentence in (9) above only functions with what’s known as a stage-level predicate — so, a verb that describes an action that takes place over a relatively short period of time, like an explosion. This is in contrast to an individual-level predicate, which can apply over someone’s whole lifetime. When we replace one kind of predicate with another, what comes out as garbage in English now sounds equally terrible in French.

     (10a) *V’là l'édifice qu'y a un employé qui connaît _

     (10b) *This is the building that there is an employee who knows

Interestingly, stage-level predicates seem to fundamentally change the underlying structures of these sentences, so that other apparently inviolable rules completely break down. For instance, with a stage-level predicate, we can now fit a proper name in there, which is something that English (and many other languages) simply forbid.

     (11a) Y a Jean qui est venu

     (11b) *There is John who came    (cannot say out-of-the-blue to mean “John came”)

For this reason, along with some other unusual syntactic properties that come hand-in-hand, it’s supposed that these aren’t really relative clauses at all. And not being relative clauses, the “who” in (9) isn’t actually occupying a spot that any other words have to pass through on their way up the tree. That is, movement isn’t blocked like how it normally would be in a genuine relative clause.

Still, Swedish has famously resisted any good analysis. Some researchers have tried to explain the problem away by claiming that what look like relative clauses are actually small clauses — the “Carol a friend” part of the sentence below — since small clauses are happy to have words move out of them.

     (12a) Nick considers Carol a friend

     (12b) Who does Nick consider _ a friend?

But the structures that words can move out of in Swedish clearly have more in common with noun phrases containing relative clauses, than clauses in and of themselves. In (13), it just doesn’t make sense to think of the verb “träffat” (“meet”) as being followed by a clause, in the same way it did for “consider.”

     (13a) Det    har    jag    inte träffat    någon som gjort

     (13b) that    have    I    not met    someone that done

     (13c) *That, I haven’t met anyone who has done

So what’s next? Here, it’s important not to miss the forest for the trees. Languages show amazing variation, but given all the ways it could have been, language as a whole also shows incredible uniformity. It’s truly remarkable that almost all the languages we’ve studied carefully so far, regardless of how distant they are from each other in time and space, show similar island effects. Even if Swedish turns out to be a true exception after all is said and done, there’s such an overwhelming tendency in the opposite direction, it begs for some kind of explanation. If our theory is wrong, it means we need to build an even better one, not that we need no theory at all.

And yet the situation isn’t so dire. A recent eye tracking study — the first of its kind to address this specific question — suggests a more nuanced set of facts. Generally, when experimental subjects read through sentences, looking for open spots where a dislocated word might have come from as they process what they’re seeing, they spend relatively less time fixated on the parts of sentences that are syntactic islands, vs. those that aren’t. In other words, by default, readers in these experiments tend to ignore the possibility of finding gaps inside syntactic islands, since our linguistic knowledge rules that out. And in this study, it was found that sentences like the ones in (7) and (13), which seem to show that Swedish can move words out from inside a relative clause, tend to fall somewhere between full-on syntactic islands and structures that typically allow for movement, in terms of where readers look, and for how long. This suggests that Swedish relative clauses are what you might call ‘weak islands,’ letting you move words out of them in some circumstances, but not in others. And this is in line with the fact that not all kinds of constituents (in this case, “why”) can be moved out of these relative clauses, as the unacceptability of the sentence in (14) shows. (In English, the sentence cannot be used to ask why people were late.)

     (14a) *Varföri    känner    du    många som blev sena till festeni?

     (14b) Why        know        you    many who were late to party-the

     (14c) *Why do you know many people who were late to the party?

For reasons we don’t yet fully understand, relative clauses in Swedish don’t obviously pattern with relative clauses in English. At the same time, the variation between them isn’t so deep that we’re forced to throw out everything we know about how language works. The search for understanding is an ongoing process, and sometimes the challenges can seem impossible, but sooner or later we usually find a way to puzzle out the problem. And that can only ever serve to shed more light on what we already know!

[hillbillyoracle]

Divination with DnD Dice

There seemed to be enough interest in the DnD Dice Divination system that I decided to go ahead and write it up. I couldn’t fit it all on here though so I might be making more posts in the future about it. I’ve included the most important stuff here to get started. 

I’ve included a zine to download and print off if you want to take it with you. I actually recommend the zine, it’s a better format than what tumblr would let me put together. 

Please consider tipping me and definitely credit me where you can. 

I know there are other systems out there and I don’t have a monopoly on dice divination but this guide did take a lot of time to put together and is built on my own collection of frameworks, meanings. 

Dice sets can be picked up for cheaper than most basic tarot decks making the barrier to entry lower. My goal was to create a system that could get a similar level of complexity of information to tarot and oracle cards. I found in test readings, I could get roughly the same as I would get from a four card reading. So it’s a good start! 

It’s my mission to make divination more accessible, tipping me helps me devote more time to this.

Zine: https://www.scribd.com/document/380692727/Divination-With-DnD-Dice

If Scribd gives you trouble try here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/21613135

Read description for printing directions or it might not come out right. 

If you can’t print it off, the same information is included below the cut.  

Hope someone finds this useful! 

D4 - Element

1 - Air - Mental, Academic, Communication, Anxiety

2 - Fire - Spirituality, Passion, Ideals, Anger

3 - Water - Emotional, Romantic, Connection, Depression/Sadness

4 - Earth - Physical, Material, Home, Emotional Block

I use the Element dice to give an indication for the area of life the reading pertains the most too. I look for indications with other dice as to what the element dice might be speaking to more specifically, but it gives me a place to start.

 D6 - Problem

1 - Plot - drama, conflict, things outside of your control, change

2 - Character - another person is blocking/causing problems, fixation on a person, possibly even loss of a person

3 - Thought - paradigms getting in the way, not in touch with reality, judgmental, fear/anxiety, getting stuck in your head

4 - Diction - how a person talks is causing problems, speaking too much/too little, passive aggression, divisive or hateful language

5 - Song - Harmony with another, being out of sync with oneself or another, learning to join the choir/group, teamwork

6 - Spectacle - Things seem worse than they actually are, petty fights, aesthetic/surface level changes, playing with how things are perceived to achieve an outcome

The Problem dice is based on Aristotle's Six Elements of Tragedy, a dramatic and literary analytical framework. I use this to see what might be the at the crux of the problem in the area the Element dice indicated. The Action Needed dice can also refine the Problem.

 D8 - Action Needed

1 - Right View - seeing the situation for what it truly is, actions have consequences, material reality, paradigm shift

2 - Right Resolve - being intentional, recommitting, choosing what is right, dedication and ambition

3 - Right Speech - be honest/don't lie, don't be passive aggressive/be forthright, speak compassionately and for the benefit of others.

4 - Right Action -  don't harm others, act compassionately and for the benefit of others, take positive action

5 - Right Livelihood - don't profit from harming others, long term commitment to benefiting others, take only what you need and give what you do not, ethical employment

6 - Right Effort - Exert influence on your environment to cultivate a better internal world, set strong boundaries, avoid negative influences and seek out positive ones, "just do the thing"

7 - Right Mindfulness - Don't make things out to be more than they are, see them for what they are, know life is in transition, don't define the self by these external transitory states

8 - Right Concentration - unification of the mind/body, unlocking higher levels of thinking and feeling and operating, don't let desire for what might be get in the way of what is, healthy detachment

The Action Needed dice is based on the Eightfold Path of Buddhism. While the particulars of the path vary by the different schools/traditions, these seem to be the most common English translations. This dice is usually pretty straight forward, especially when taken in consideration with the rest of the dice.

 2D10 - Difficulty

Pretty self-explanatory. The higher the difficulty, the longer the process will take. Gives an indication about how important or long term the reading will be.

 D12 - Time

The number can refer to a month of the year which you may have your own associations you can pull from or classify into a season and pull meanings from that. I use the seasonal method most often.

Winter - focus on the self, rest, restore yourself, weather the storm, be the light the world isn't giving you, inner strength

Spring - new beginnings, plant seeds, the rain and the storms lead to new growth

Summer -  wait to harvest, find shade, relax

Fall - harvest, make preparations for winter, celebrate accomplishments.

You can also think of what sabbat is in that month and the lessons inherent in that holiday. It can also be time of day.

9-5 - Work related, stress, out of your control

5-12 -  Free time, friends and family, hobbies

12-9 - rest, dream, restore yourself

AM if there are more even than odd numbers and PM if there more odd than even. You can also take the month and the time to be literal if the reading calls for it.

 D20 - Lesson

1 - The Magician - jack of all trades, master of none, experiment, unfocused, learning, skilled but unrefined, beginning

2 - The High Priestess - balance, intuition, insight, between worlds, lessons learned while solitary

3 - The Empress - growing, flowering, creativity, taking what you have and making it thrive, thriving where you're planted

4 - The Emperor - expand, leader, confidence, step up and create the life you want/need, protect what/who you have

5 - The Hierophant - balance between material and spiritual, lessons learned from teachers, benevolence, structure

6 - The Lovers - connection, union, positive outlook, nostalgia, romanticism, love given freely

7 - The Chariot - power, confidence, leadership through passion/emotional intelligence, decisive action

8 - Strength - rely on internal direction/sense of self, internal strength and peace, resilience

9 - The Hermit - internal knowledge and discovery, minimalism, truth is inside you, you are capable on your own

10 - The Wheel of Fortune - things are outside of your control, this too shall pass, ebb and flow of fortune, reversal of luck

11 - Justice - objective truth, standing by/doing what is right, lawful good, cutting ties with deceivers, protect the community

12 - The Hanged Man - Insight, understanding impermanence, sudden realization, enlightenment, major paradigm shift

13 - Death - the old makes way for the new, the cycle of life, we all die in the end, reinvention

14 - Temperance - spiritual balance, abstaining from negative influences, taking responsibility for one's internal well being

15 - The Devil - materialism as bondage, enjoy pleasure without becoming victim to it, pleasure seeking as escapism

16 - The Tower - being shaken to the core, foundations pulled up, self of self overturned, ego shaken

17 - The Star - uneasy hope, possibilities, leaving and traveling, opportunities somewhere else, dare to dream

18 - The Moon - deception, things aren't always what they appear, intentions and actions do not line up, reflect, see the true nature of things

19 - The Sun - relax and enjoy your accomplishments, celebrate with friends and family, share your abundance, revel in joy

20 - Judgment - shine a light on everything, be honest, be critical and fair, lay firm boundaries, take up the old and make it new

The lesson dice is there to indicate what can be learned from the situation. Every situation is an opportunity to grow and evolve. It's based on the framework of the Major Arcana as teachers and posits that every situation can likewise be a teacher to us all. This dice can help refine the problem dice as well. It can be hard to keep this dice from getting preachy so make sure to be honest about what this dice is saying but temper it so as not to be patronizing.

 Putting the Reading Together

Like all divination, the goal is to look for patterns and craft those patterns into coherent themes. Like reading a novel, you’re reading between the lines to make the reading more useable than the raw info the dice turn up. An example of my notes for a reading are:

D4 - Element: 2 - Fire

D6 - Problem: 3 - Thought

D8 - Action Needed: 3 - Right Speech

D10 - Importance: 51 - Middle

D12 - Time: Evening/Summer

D20 - Lesson: 8 – Strength

This is the reading I gave:

“The reading suggests there’s some conflict stemming from letting passion overtake reason in your interactions with others. You believe very passionately in your ideals, but how you talk about them to others looks like it’s causing tension. This seems like it will be of moderate difficulty to grapple with, not easy but by far not the hardest thing you’ve dealt with. The reading suggests being mindful of your words and advises to concentrate on your inner power rather than seeking validation for your ideas from others. “

When pulling together a reading you want to look for conflict, strengths, and resolution.

There was a lot of fire (passion) and air (communication) in this reading, while they work great in harmony, they can really hurt the user when out of balance so that was the conflict. Passion is a beautiful thing even when it’s not in alignment and I didn’t want the reader to think their ideals were the problem since the rest of the reading pointed out their words so their passion was their strength. The resolution lay in relying on their own internal strength for validation rather than others, that that would lead to better communication and less conflict overall.

I’m still learning myself. It takes practice so don’t give up!

--

I hope this was helpful! Please let me know how this works for you. I’m totally open to people changing it to fit them better but I wanted to provide a model for how this could be done. I also got some really solid readings out of it. So it definitely has potential. 

[blogging-time]

“Honey, Honey.”

My Fic Masterlist 

Summary: Logan never really was one for dancing, but when a dashing prince starts spinning you around the room against your will, serenading you with every step… well... you can’t exactly say no…

Based on this beautiful artwork by @artistwave, while also making reference to these two stunning works as well!

Warnings: N/A

Pairings: Logince

Word Count: 4,400

~ ~ ~

Logan never really was one for singing. He was perceived to be a man of the upmost refinement; a man who indulged almost the entirety of his alone-time secluded with the written word. Within the confines of his own mind serenades were nothing more than idiotic clichés intended to deceive a wider, lonelier audience into believing that a re-hashed version of some hit pop-song equated to true-love at long last. Newsflash, Hollywood: “Can’t Help Falling in Love” lost all authentic meaning when Zayn Malik decided to make an official cover of it too.

Logan never really was one for dancing. He simply preferred to let his eyes gently wander across the page as the newly absorbed words danced and fluttered around in his head, elegantly eloping with all prior knowledge, and forging one complete tale of excitement and adventure behind his patient eyes. Big musical dance numbers were surely far too unrealistic for him. Too many limbs. Too many opportunities to fall and fracture a femur. All semblance of elegance was lost when the activity became far too literal for Logan’s acquired taste.

Logan never really was one for musicals. The very premise of building an entire world around pre-written songs seemed positively ludicrous to him, or “Pattonly-absurd” as the Dad-Side would often joke. “Mamma Mia” was one of his least favourite musicals for that very reason. Failing to create an interesting environment was one thing, but to steal already overdone songs from another in order to accomplish such a lacklustre thing? Oh please. Logan preferred a far more structured and scientifically sound world. One with proper meaning and purpose. A world that revolved as much around the known and unknown as our own reality does on a daily basis.

Logan was a man of literature. Arthur Conan Doyle. Agatha Christie. Toni Morrison. Novels. Poetry. Riddles. He adored the lot. To Logan, his library was like an entire universe, and inside it were the books – the planets – all just waiting to be explored.

Of course, this led to a number of disputes with his partner, Roman.

“Roman, songs are not the written word “vocalized”; they are the written word internationally marketed and sold off for an ill-deserved profit.”

Logan once refused to look Roman in the eye for a day after the prince dared to suggest literature was much the same.

“Oh yeah? Tell me then, Edgar Allan Foe, why books are not simply given out for free? Why should they be sold out in shops if any profit they turn in is so ill-deserved?”

“Novels are different.”

“Why? Because less people are interested in them?”

That had proven to be one of their more heated debates.

Of course, Roman was also the sort to think “Twilight” classified as “Classical Literature,” on the sole basis that it was over a decade old, so Logan couldn’t stay mad at him for too long. Roman’s cluelessness was not only a weakness for the prince himself, but for Logan too. It was almost endearing… in an odd way… Besides, it allowed for Logan to rant about the things he loved and was captivated by, meanwhile Roman would be captivated by the one he loved speaking so passionately. They balanced each other out in this way.

Still, there was one… perhaps unconventional… piece of literature that Logan could not help but enjoy.

Magazines.

Fashion magazines to be more specific.

He hadn’t intended to grow addicted, but alas Virgil had left a single copy of “Kirameki” on the kitchen counter one day and before he could even think to stop himself from reading it he was on the last page. It seems highly improbable to most that some article containing such simplistic language, an abundance of images, and absolutely no plotline could captivate the interest of one as astute as Logan himself… but the style… it was just so… different!

From magazine to magazine his interest leapt… “Fashion,” “Cosmopolitan,” “Vogue,” etc… and if he just so happened to conjure up a few of the outfits he saw across the various articles, then he would soon reassure himself with the belief that it was for entirely scientific and experimental purposes, and most certainly not because more vibrant colours made him feel… cute… That was just an added bonus.

~ ~ ~

On a day such as this, Logan found himself cycling through a few new potential outfit combinations. The first was composed of primarily pinks and blues. The large pink sweater combined with the denim blue short-shorts and the knee-high baseball socks gave off a very “youthful” vibe. Although it was a style he’d grown relatively fond of, the logical Side thought it best reserved for game nights. Distracting Roman with the matching bow necklace was the only way he could beat the prince at “Kirby” after all.

The second outfit was far classier and mimicked the logical Side’s natural style better, matching a halter neckline, tight-fit purple top with a dark pencil skirt. It was not that Logan had any outright objections to the outfit, but rather that one simply does not indulge Patton in a game of “Patton-cake” then wear a pair of four-inch high-heels the very next day. Unfortunately for him, those were the only shoes that could match such an outfit.

The final outfit Logan tried and eventually settled on was perhaps the most vibrant of the lot. The trousers were nothing to marvel at as they were nothing more than a standard full-length denim pair with a simple brown leather belt holding them up at the waist. The top and shoes, however? Now those were something to marvel at.

The top Logan chose was a bright, yellow crop-top with the word “Honey” written on it in bold, red letters. Reaching only half-way down his chest, the crop-top didn’t leave much to the imagination when it came to the logical Side’s toned physique. The shoes Logan selected to match such a spectacle of a top were no less eye-catching. On his feet the logical Side wore a pair of floral high-tops with a simple black sole and lace. The flowers themselves were all various complimentary shades of creams, yellows and pinks, and should the light catch the well-maintained surface at just the right angle, then the shoes would shine as if demanding further attention.

Logan cast one final look at himself in his bedroom mirror before deciding the look was complete, stepping out of his room, and setting his sights on Roman’s.

~ ~ ~

If there was one thing Logan had come to realize about Roman, it was that he was often heard long before he could be seen. Today was no exception.

From the moment he dared to set foot inside the creative Side’s domain, Logan could clearly hear the sound of music pouring out from somewhere within the bedroom, yet upon looking around he saw no one. He scratched the back of his head in contemplation as his eyes did another quick scan around the room, only to notice that the door of Roman’s walk-in wardrobe had been left slightly ajar.

“Princey?” Logan called out.

There was no response. It seemed as though his partner hadn’t heard him over the sound of “Dancing Queen.” Great. Mentally, Logan added the word “distracting” to the list of reasons as to why he disliked musicals.

He called out to his partner again as he took another few steps towards the walk-in wardrobe, this time gaining enough attention to make Roman stop singing, and to turn the music on his speaker down significantly.

“Is somebody there?”

Just before Logan could reach out and open the door completely, Roman stepped out into his bedroom. Each man looked startled for just a moment before their pride forced them into maintaining a straight face.

“Princey.”

“Teach.”

The pair smiled fondly at each other before Roman raised his hands up to rest them gently on Logan’s bare forearms.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” the prince inquired.

“Can’t one boyfriend simply wish to visit another?”

“Under normal circumstances perhaps, but the boyfriend in question is you, and you typically avoid me when I’m in a musical mood?”

“My sincerest apologies for not hearing your music from my room.”

“My sincerest apologies for not playing my music loud enough.”

At that, Logan couldn’t help but roll his eyes, causing the prince to let out a small chuckle. It was not long ago that the royal Side had hated seeing the logical Side’s eyes roll like that. He had always feared Logan was silently calling his intelligence into question when he rolled his eyes so nonchalantly, but now, having come to understand his “darling” on a deeper level, Roman knew that that was never the case. He and Logan were equals. The eye-rolling was now just another form of playful banter to them.

“If I ever hear your music all the way from my room, I assure you you’ll hear me coming.”

“Dutifully noted,” Roman replied as his hands gently glided down Logan’s arms, eventually clasping their hands together.

For a moment, Logan was able to just silently relax and appreciate the man stood there before him… and then Roman kept talking…

“Care to dance?”

“In your dreams.”

“With you, every day’s a dream,” he attempted.

“Cute, but you can dream on. I’m not dancing.”

With that, Logan pulled his hands gently out of Roman’s grasp and took a few steps backwards, offering his partner a playfully scolding look as he did so.

“You know I don’t dance.”

“It was worth a try.”

The pair smiled at each other again. From this distance they could finally get a good look at each other.

It seemed the prince was also trying on a new outfit today, as casual-wear wasn’t typically his style. Roman was dressed very similarly to Logan. He too wore long denim jeans, albeit in a darker shade. The yellow shirt was also a similar item, however, Roman’s was plain and longer, meeting his jeans at the waist. Not only that, but he had elected to wear an open dark blue shirt over the top, which just about reached down to the bottom of his posterior. Finally, he wore a simple black pair of converse on his feet, both the soles and laces of which were a pristine white colour.

The more Logan looked at Roman, the more he couldn’t help but smile wider. According to Newton’s first law of motion an object in motion will stay in motion unless some other force acts to change said motion. To Logan’s heart, Roman was always that adequate force that made it skip a beat.

The more Roman looked at Logan, the more difficult it was to hold back the oncoming blush. Logan usually appeared to dress so formally and reserved, so seeing him like that was always a pleasant surprise. This impossible man was just full of surprises… If only it weren’t impossible to see him dance.

It was then that Roman’s eyes finally caught sight of the phrase on Logan’s shirt.

“Honey.” One simple word printed there in bold, red letters.

One simple word placed directly in front of him.

One simple word was all he needed.

~ ~ ~

The only warning Logan received came in the form of a playful smirk from Roman before the aforementioned prince spun around and re-directed his attention back towards his speaker.

At this point Logan was confused. He knew how his partner adored their music, but it was highly unlike Roman to ignore him in favour of it.

“Roman?” he questioned, only vaguely masking the annoyance creeping into his tone of voice.

“Just a moment, love,” he responded, sounding far too chipper for Logan’s comfort.

Logan responded with only a faint frown, but listened as Roman skipped through various songs time and time again. Sometimes he only caught a chord or the beginning of a word. One time all he heard was Meryl Streep exhale. This routine continued until eventually…

“Perfect,” Roman muttered to himself, finally turning away from his speaker and all but waltzing up to Logan with a benevolent smirk on his face.

“What are you up to?” Logan asked, knowing far better than to blindly accept any one of Roman’s schemes.

“You’ll see.”

Somehow Logan didn’t find any reassurance in that sentiment, but before he could even try to get another word in… he heard it…

‘Honey, honey, how he thrills me, a-ha, honey, honey!’

Logan’s eyes widened in horror.

‘Honey, honey, nearly kills me, a-ha, honey, honey!’

Logan opens his mouth to protest, but Roman won’t allow it. In what is almost a blur of movement, Roman takes Logan’s hands in his own again, and this time there is no easy escape.

“Roman!” Logan yells, but it’s no use. Roman is too pre-occupied with singing along to respond to Logan’s pleas.

“I've heard about him before,

I wanted to know some more,

And now I know what they mean, he's a love machine,

Oh, he makes me dizzy!”

Logan lets out a not-so-dignified yelp as Roman suddenly decides to twirl them around together. The world around him becomes an indistinguishable blur as he quickly finds the only thing his eyes can concentrate on anymore is Roman.

Goodness, this moment had the potential to be so much more romantic if only the logical Side wasn’t being tossed around against his will.

“Roman!” Logan yelled again, this time harshly pulling his hands away.

Fortunately for him, his attempt at an escape had proven to be quite successful.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t exactly formulated a plan regarding what should be done if he were to escape mid-twirl.

The world continued to spin as the logical Side stumbled backwards, barely managing to keep himself balanced until the prince himself managed to catch him in a dip.

Yet another potentially beautiful romantic moment tragically tainted by circumstance.

“What will it take to make you stop?” Logan asked, sounding both out of breath and exasperated.

Roman seemed to ponder over his words for a moment.

“One dance,” the prince eventually answered, then upon noticing Logan’s quizzical look he continued, “One dance, and if you don’t enjoy it then I promise you I will never ask you to dance again.”

“Or force me?”

“Or force you.”

Logan started weighing out his options in his head. True, dancing didn’t sound particularly enjoyable, but if it meant escaping his partner’s constant invitations then wouldn’t that make the trade-off worth it? Besides, Roman certainly seemed amused by all of this if his smile was anything to go by. Of course he’d still have to discuss boundaries with the prince later as forcing him into situations like these certainly violated them, but for now… for now he believed he could tolerate the prince’s wishes…

As the music played on, the prince continued to look at him expectantly.

“I know I’m not going to enjoy this,” Logan began, “But if I have your word that you’ll never ask me to dance again-”

“You do,” Roman interrupted.

“-Then I suppose I can endure this one dance with you.”

Roman smiled gently as he guided Logan back into a standing position.

“You won’t regret this.”

Each man certainly hoped so. After all, Roman had bet everything on this one opportunity.

~ ~ ~

By the time the deal was made, “Honey, Honey” was already half-way through the second verse. To make matters fair, Logan allowed Roman to rewind the song back to the beginning, just this once.

Rushing back over to Logan’s side with an arrogant smirk on his face, the royal instructed Logan to just, “Follow my lead.”

“And how do you suppose someone could possibly lead their dance partner to the song, ‘Honey, Honey’ if I may be so skeptical as to ask?” Logan chided.

“Just keep your eyes locked on mine, and let the music be your guide.”

Logan elected to ignore that “High School Musical Three” reference in favour of not wanting to punch Roman right in his perfect teeth. With all the rhythm of a startled elephant, he attempted to follow Roman’s instructions.

“Well that’s certainly… something…”

“That’s nerves. This dancing business gets on every last one of them.”

“That’s not the way dancing should be.”

“Well your instructions didn’t exactly teach me much, now did they?”

With a slight sigh, Roman stopped dancing himself.

“First of all you need to relax. You’ll never find your rhythm with your muscles so tensed up like that.”

“You’re making the dangerous assumption that there’s actually any rhythm to find which, in my honest opinion, sounds like an utterly ludicrous hypothesis.”

“Then allow me to prove you wrong. Come here,” the prince instructed, gesturing to the space directly in front of him.

Logan hesitantly obliged.

“Perfect, now turn around so that your back is lightly pressed against my chest.”

“Like this?” Logan asked, slowly moving into position.

“That’s perfect, darling. Just like that.”

As gently as he could manage, Roman slipped his arm around the waist of the man in front of him, causing the pair to blush slightly. His other hand rested lightly on Logan’s forearm.

“Now I want you to just listen to the music. Find your rhythm, and sway your hips in time to it. I’ll be here to help keep you right, okay?”

Listen to the music. Find your rhythm. Sway your hips.

Logan could try that.

“Okay,” he answered, before turning his attention back towards the speaker.

‘Honey, honey, let me feel it, ah-ha, honey, honey!’

He started with two subtle sways to the words “Honey, honey,” each time he heard the phrase. Just behind him he could feel Roman mimicking his movements with only a little more energy.

‘Honey, honey, don't conceal it, ah-ha, honey, honey!’

Attempting to do as Amanda Seyfried sang, Logan’s movements became more invigorated, his hips almost popping from side to side with the beat. Now he could practically feel Roman smiling just behind his ear. He knew he must have been doing something right.

“The way that you kiss goodnight!”

As much as Logan attempted to restrain himself, he couldn’t entirely quell the sneaking smile that crept back onto his face as Roman resumed singing.

“The way that you hold me tight!”

He didn’t miss the way Roman’s hold on his waist subtly tightened as if he were subconsciously obeying the lyrics.

“I feel like I wanna sing when you do your... thing!”

Nor could he ignore Roman’s somewhat hilarious attempt to replicate the way Amanda Seyfried had sang the word “thing.” It was clear he had attempted to go for the laughing effect, but it sounded more like he was about to choke than anything. Either way it succeeded in making Logan laugh along too.

As the instrumental break kicked in, Logan could feel Roman gently resting their head against his.

“Feeling more at ease?”

“Well, I suppose this isn’t as bad as I’d imagined it would be.”

“Would you say it’s even a pleasant enough experience for you to sing-along with me?”

“Don’t push your luck, honey,” Logan playfully scolded.

The prince feigned an offended scoff, but still took pride in the little victory he had achieved. Even though he’d had to strike a deal just to get this far, it was nice to see his partner so laid-back like this. More than once he had concerned himself with Logan’s apparent lack of movement and typically awful posture. Surely hunching over books all day couldn’t be good for anyone’s well-being. Perhaps if he made this experience enjoyable enough for Logan, he could make a dance partner out of him yet.

All thoughts of the future were banished however when the third verse dragged him back to the present.

“Honey, honey, touch me baby, a-ha, honey, honey!”

As if on cue, Roman’s other hand slid away from Logan’s forearm and up to the sleeve of his crop-top. With a gentle tug, he prompted the man to outstretch his arm so that it was held far out from his side.

“Honey, honey, hold me baby, a-ha, honey, honey!”

His hand then traversed down Logan’s side, guiding the man’s movements and encouraging an additional flair in every step the pair took together. With his partner’s encouragement, Logan started moving his abdomen is small circles, round and around to the beat.

“You look like a movie star,

But I like just who you are,

And, honey, to say the least... you're a doggone beast!”

Finally, Roman’s right hand landed firmly on Logan’s hips, directly opposite to the left, before each hand slipped forward in order to clasp together in front of Logan’s belly button. While keeping a strong hold on the man, Roman used all his strength to lift his partner up off the ground and spin him around.

Logan only gave a faint yelp before laughing breathlessly, and allowing his feet to hover slightly off of the ground. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was finally placing his trust in Roman, or if all of his adrenaline had just suddenly kicked in, but it didn’t matter. In just a moment it was all over, and his feet were planted firmly back on the ground. Behind him, he could feel Roman catching his breath, causing him to smirk.

“I haven’t tired you out with all this dancing, have I?” he teased.

“In your dreams.”

“With you, every day’s a dream.”

“…Cute…”

Roman’s left hand moved back into its original position and rewrapped itself around Logan’s waist, meanwhile he rested his right hand on the man’s side, ensuring his partner had to keep their right arm outstretched.

“Keep your right arm bent, starlight,” Roman instructed.

“Like… this…?”

“Not quite… Make the bend a gentle curve, not a sudden drop.”

“Is this okay?”

“That’s perfect.”

Before Logan could ask any more questions, he felt a light pressure on his right thumb and index finger. Looking down in confusion, he soon noticed that the source of the pressure was coming from Roman’s own hand, but it didn’t appear as though he were trying to clasp their hands together again. Upon closer inspection, Logan realized his partner’s true ambitions. Not far from Logan’s hips, Roman had joined the pair’s thumbs and index fingers together, creating a small heart shape between them.

“You dork,” Logan commented, laughing softly to himself as he turned his head as far as he could to face Roman, his left hand gently cupping the blushing man’s cheek.

“Guilty as charged.”

The logical Side offered his partner a faint smile before lightly kissing their cheek.

‘Honey, honey, how he thrilled me, ah-ha, honey, honey!’

The song was nearly over now, but Roman was never one to be outdone.

‘Honey, honey, nearly killed me, ah-ha, honey, honey!’

This time, the hand wrapped around Logan’s waist moved slowly, so that Logan was gradually brought face-to-face with the prince.

‘I'd heard about you before,

I wanted to know some more,’

Each man smiled warmly at each other. For as spontaneous as Roman tried to be, even he could be largely predictable. While gently resting their noses against each other’s, Logan waited expectantly for his partner to make the first move.

And now I'm about to see,

What you mean to me.’

Their kiss was soft, sweet, simple, and lasted for only a brief moment before the pair parted, each taking a step back as the song came to an end.

~ ~ ~

A single moment of calm hung in the air before Roman dismantled it with his typical flair for the theatrics and need to be over-dramatic.

With an overly exasperated sigh and grand gesture the prince announced, “You kept your end of the bargain. Now I… I promise I will never ask nor force you to dance ever again.”

In his mind, Logan just wanted to say ‘Thank you,’ but his heart wouldn’t allow for it. There was no way he could stare directly into the prince’s dejected eyes and betray his end of the bargain. He felt a twinge of regret already settling in before he even let the truth slip, but continued anyway.

“I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.”

Now looking like a deer caught in the headlights, Roman could only ask, “What do you mean?”

A half-smile made its way onto Logan’s face.

“I meant as I said. You don’t need to entirely abandon your pursuits of converting me into your dance partner yet.”

“I don’t understand. We made a deal. A prince always keeps his word, Logan.”

“If my recollection of events serves me well – which let’s face it, it always does – then we agreed you were only to stop asking me to dance in the event that I… in the event that I did not enjoy this one dance with you.”

One could practically hear the gears turning in Roman’s head as the aforementioned prince mulled over this newly acquired information. If his boyfriend had truly meant what he said, then that meant-

“You enjoyed our dance?” he asked, his tone one of disbelief.

Logan quirked an eyebrow.

“This surprises you?”

“Admittedly it does. Just a little bit.”

Typical.

“Well, while calling our little dancing escapade ‘enjoyable’ may be a slight overstatement, I must admit I… I didn’t find it to be an entirely terrible or regrettable experience either. Besides, dancing is a valid form of exercise so-”

“So you’ll dance with me again?”

“Well, I’ll certainly consider it.”

Roman nodded his head slightly. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. No more words were needed to convey his gratitude.

“Just don’t expect me to dance with you publicly. Force me into a public dancing session and I doubt I’ll be able to vouch for your continued survival.”

“Of course, mi querido. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Logan knew that statement wasn’t entirely true. Sometimes his prince couldn’t help where his mind wandered, but he wasn’t about to tarnish this pleasant moment with more factual information.

Of course his mind was still full of uncertainties.

Would he honestly be able to dance with Roman again?

Would he ever become an adequate dance partner?

Would Roman even be willing to continue teaching him?

Those were questions he couldn’t quite answer yet, but, if dancing had taught him anything today, it was that whatever step he and his partner both took next, they would both take it together to the beat of their hearts.

Perhaps musical clichés weren’t so bad after all.

~ ~ ~

General Tag-List:

@lunamay2006 @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @saphael-malec102

Note: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted a fic, so this tag-list may be a little outdated. If at any point you want to be added/removed from my tag-list then feel free to let me know!

As always, feedback is much appreciated! I was pretty out of practice here, so I’m sure I’d benefit a lot from constructive criticism! I hope you’re all have a fan-der-tastic day!