#as well as a girl he considered a daughter and hundreds of strangers some whose deaths gihun was involved in (tug of war game)

[midnight--sadness]

just saw the worst take of all time on tiktok......... like fork found in kitchen i know but good god 😑

the idiots on that app are always like "🤓wElL tHe GaMeS hAvE bEeN hApPeNiNg SiNcE tHe 80s🤓" to justify gihun being idiotic to think he could stop them

u dumb bitch GIHUN DOESNT KNOW THAT!!!!

WHY WOULD HE ASSUME THESE FUCKASS GAMES HAVE BEEN HAPPENING FOR DECADES????

HE LITERALLY ONLY FOUND THEY WEREN'T A ONE-TIME THING WHEN HE SAW THE SALESMAN IN THE SUBWAY AGAIN!!!!

ARE YOU BRAINLESS??? ARE YOU A CLOWN??? ARE YOU DEVOID OF BASIC EMPATHY???

[mothernerd]

blood 12 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 11 - part 13

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist (GUESS WHO FINALLY FIGURED OUT THE PLAYLIST ISSUE)

12 - a memory

You’d been in the tunnels hundreds, if not, thousands of times in your life. There were very few places you were positive you could navigate blindly, but these caves and tunnels? Someone could take away every sense you had and you’d still be able to find your way home. 

It was a little unsettling bringing Loki into your secret place. Very few people knew of the natural caves that fed into manmade tunnels (carved by your ancestor, Richard Stark, when he settled the land). 

In fact, you could only think of four people, including yourself, who could navigate the paths without becoming lost. 

There was you, Natalia (who’d originally shown you), James, and Stephen. 

Not even Peter was privy to the knowledge of these cavernous paths, covered in old magic and fake tunnels. 

The cave system was incredible. It was naturally occurring and if the history you’d dug up with Stephen was accurate, your ancestor had purposely selected the land for that reason. They were enhanced with this very action in mind. 

To reclaim the castle by surprise if an antagonistic force overtook it. 

Stephen once mentioned that history often repeated itself, but you liked to think it was more of a mimicry of the past. Similar, but never the same. 

King Richard Stark the First never dealt with any serious threats to his reign. He lived a long life, had many children with his beloved wife, and died a very old man with his family at his bedside. 

His son, however, King Emil Stark, faced many problems in his short reign. He was nearly murdered by his own brother, but escaped the plot using these very tunnels. 

Later, he took back the castle with regional support and a surprise caravan of soldiers marched through one of the larger sections of the cave system. 

You’d assumed and so had Stephen, when you’d read about the tale, that Richard had only told his eldest son. Why else had he been able to catch the younger brother by surprise? 

But why had Richard only told one son? 

Emil took the knowledge to his grave, but one of the soldiers had a son, who went with his father long after the battle to explore. That son had another son, and so on until one day, a red haired daughter was born. 

That daughter was caught sneaking bread from the kitchens and when you protected her and gave her extra food, she taught you. 

It was a funny thing, time. Cyclical, ever changing, but in the end, the fates would do as they pleased. How these tunnels led Nat into your life. How these tunnels have you freedom to explore and learn the land around you. How these tunnels brought the most important person into your life. 

(—)

The first time you met Stephen Strange, you were sixteen years old. 

By that point, you’d scared off almost every Master who’d passed the threshold of your castle. Some complained you asked too many questions, others tried to restrict knowledge of the dark and dastardly from you, one insisted a princess was to be simple minded and obedient.

That was the last one you’d chased off after casually bringing the fact up during dinner and letting Pepper deal with the rest. 

This was long before Morgan. This was when Peter was still a little boy and you were a girl still trying to figure out your place in a world that didn’t value or respect you.  

The first time you met Stephen Strange was ten days before he was due to arrive, officially.

You hadn’t known it was him at first. He’d been sitting in the woods on a stump, reading a book on local geography when you passed him on your way back to the tunnels that threaded their way through the forest to the castle. You and Natalia had spent the last few years wreaking havoc on the guard, slipping away without a word, only to reappear in a pub later that night. 

You noted the odd fellow, out of place in the massive woods but not entirely unexpected and paused to do a double take. 

“What are you reading?” 

He peered up from his book, a brow quirked in her direction. 

“What?” 

You took a few steps closer. He didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. Though Natalia would later reprimand you for being too trusting of strangers. 

“What are you reading?” you repeated, having read the title and still wondering why someone would spend a beautiful afternoon such as that one, in the forest, alone, reading a book on geography. 

“A book on geography,” he answered, folding the tome half shut and pointing a finger to the cover. “Geo-graph-y.”

He recited the word slowly, as if you couldn’t understand reading or letters. 

“I know what it says,” you huffed, a little indignant at his tone. Did you look like some lowly peasant who couldn’t read? Glancing at your clothes you frowned. A simple frock.

Oh. Maybe you did. 

“Why are you all the way out here?” you asked again, a little irritated when he went back to the book and ignored her. 

“It’s quiet,” he lowered the book again, staring at you over the edge of the pages. “Or rather it was.”

“No one passes through here, usually,” you hummed, glancing around. “It’s a bit depressing though, isn’t it? The trees are blocking all of the sun.”

“I don’t need sunlight,” he stated cryptically and you noted his distinct robes of blue. 

Kamar-Taj. 

“Are you a sorcerer?” you asked, settling across from him on a mossy rock and leaning forward. “You’re a little young aren’t you?” 

“I’m eighteen,” he shot back sharply. “I’ve been training my whole life. That’s considered more than experienced at this point.”

“So you are a sorcerer,” you confirmed with a sly smirk. “They’re getting a new Master Sorcerer up at the castle soon. Maybe you know him? Master Strange?” 

If he knew the name, he made no indication and instead let out a long sigh, standing and closing his book. 

“Never heard of him,” he replied curtly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He started to move toward one of the paths in the forest, but you caught up to him and followed closely behind. 

“Why were you out here?” you asked curiously, trodding behind in the footprints he left behind. 

“I told you, for peace,” he stated, a little exasperation to his tone. 

Maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold a Master at the castle for very long, they frowned on questions and maybe Kamar-Taj taught them all to be sticks in the mud. 

“You’re reading a book on geography,” you repeated. “Local geography if I recall?”

Your eyes fell on the book in his hand and he immediately shoved it to his chest, blocking it from view and continuing his path. 

“You’re certainly not from around here,” you continued musing, plucking a flower from a nearby plant and twirling it between your fingers. He stopped and looked over at her. 

“How can you tell?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Your accent is a little off,” you noted with a little chuckle. “It sounds like it’s from the border, where Kamar-Taj is located.”

“I was in Asgard,” he countered and you shrugged. 

“Just to visit I’m sure,” you insisted and he didn’t reply. You twirled the flower again, giving it a small sniff. “I’m betting you were looking for the caves, weren’t you?” 

His irritated expression fell and you walked up, tucking the flower behind his ear and grabbing his wrist. 

“Here’s the thing, I’ve read that book and it’s ridiculously outdated and inaccurate,” you continued, pulling him back the direction you just came. “You see, Richard Stark, the son of Arthur Stark the Conqueror, had this whole region charted when he sought to build his fortress.”

“Yes, and this book is that report,” the boy insisted quickly and you laughed, much to his annoyance. “Why would he have built the castle if the report was inaccurate?”

“There was an accurate report at some point,” you explained, reaching and snatching the book up. You flipped through the pages until you found the section on the cave systems. “There’s a little truth to this, some of the tunnels are accurate but the entrances are all wrong.”

“But given the layout of the land-,” he protested and you shook your head.

“Just follow me,” you led the way past the stump he’d been sitting on toward the mouth of one of the well memorized tunnels into the castle. “They can go on for miles, so you have to be careful.”

“How do you know?” he challenged, sizing you over. 

You paused. The tunnels were a closely guarded secret between you and Natalia, whose late father had passed the knowledge down to her. Aside from the serious security risk, you knew nothing of this boy or his past. So you stayed vague. 

“I’ve explored them a few times,” you answered casually, hopping down into one of the smaller openings and calling for him to follow behind. 

The two of you spent a few hours exploring areas even you hadn’t been familiar with. He pointed out a few magic runes, explaining their meaning as best he could (some were completely foreign to both of you) and not looking too annoyed when you peppered him with questions. 

“Are you noble?” he finally asked when you walked him from the structure back toward the forest. “You’re very well read.”

“I like books,” you answered with a smile. “My father taught me to read at a young age and I never stopped.”

It was a half answer and a full truth, satisfying enough for him because he nodded.

“I’m in town for a few more nights,” he looked hesitant, clearing his throat nervously. “If you’d like to stop by the inn?” 

Excitement sparked in your chest. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you promised, a big grin on your face that was decidedly not very ladylike. “Who should I ask for?” 

“Stephen,” he replied. “Ask for Stephen.”

(—)

“I can feel Amora’s magic,” Loki stated, pausing in the tunnel and looking around. “How certain are you of those wards?” 

Stephen’s hand reached and lightly touched one of the intricately carved runes in the tunnel wall. He paused, his expression moving from its usual frustration in failing to recognize the pattern to surprise. 

“They never faltered when I tried experimenting,” he assured the prince. 

“And many Master Sorcerer’s before you have tried completely sealing the castle,” you added, finally lowering your hood to look between the men. “It’s impossible. The runes are very old magic.”

Loki said something, but you didn’t hear him, instead you were taken by surprise when Stephen turned and flipped the amulet around your neck around to study the runes carved into the back. 

“By the Gods,” he murmured, holding it up to the wall. “It’s seidr.”

You looked between the two symbols. Nearly identical with a few alterations, likely given a difference between the spells, but the base characters were perfect copies. 

“Impossible, seidr was eliminated before this castle was built,” Loki insisted. “My grandfather completed the task and died before Arthur Stark even dreamed of this land.”

“It’d explain why traditional magic can’t touch it,” you pointed out. 

“And why you can navigate the cave system so flawlessly,” Stephen reminded you. “We’ve found wings and sub-tunnels that defy geological principals…”

“Then it’s a promising omen,” Loki stated firmly. “We continue on with our task, remove Amora and reclaim the kingdom.”

(—)

“I can’t stay for long,” you explained a few days after your initial meeting. The ball to celebrate the new sorcerer was that evening and your maid had been nagging you all morning about getting a proper bath and dressing done for the event. 

She’d heard the sorcerer was quite the looker. 

Gods if you cared.

“I’m due to leave tonight as well,” he replied quietly. “I wanted to give you something to remember me.”

He handed you a book, “The Complete History of the Vanir Valley”.

“I might have uh, borrowed it from Kamar-Taj before I left,” he explained sheepishly. “It’s a very good book and it mentions this region and some of the more ancient history involved with it. Given your knowledge of the geography and geology…”

You clutched the book to your chest, absolutely moved by the young man’s kind gesture. Despite only knowing him a little over a week, you’d come to respect and enjoy his company on your adventures. He’d even met Nat, who admitted she enjoyed his sharp wit and jokes- a rare acknowledgment by the hardened thief.

“Do you have to go?” you asked quietly. “There’s so much more to explore…”

“I’m due to report to my next assignment,” he kicked at a nearby stick. “I’ll write. You live near the village? I’ll send a raven when I arrive.”

“I’ll miss you, Stephen,” you mumbled, trying to blink back a few tears. This stupid boy was the first person who hadn’t looked at you and completely rejected your intelligence. He listened and discussed philosophy and magic and history and science and…

He was leaving. 

“Our paths will cross again, I’m sure,” he stated with a curt nod, pausing, unsure what to do with himself. He settled on leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your cheek, his face burning bright red when he pulled away. “Goodbye.”

He murmured your name like a soft prayer before starting back down the pathway toward the village. 

The entire time you knew him, Stephen never admitted if he knew you were the princess the whole time or if it had taken him by surprise as well. 

But the moment you saw him enter the ball room, you had to hold onto a nearby table to stop yourself from tumbling forward in shock. 

Master Stephen Strange. 

“You didn’t tell me you were the new Master,” you challenged, catching him by the elbow once introductions had been made and he was mingling between rounds of dancing. You guided him toward the edge of the room, ignoring the incredulous looks and whispers being shot in your direction.

“You didn’t tell me you were the princess,” he countered, a smirk on his lips, eyes wandering toward the dancers moving across the floor. 

“You already knew, you must have,” you narrowed your gaze suspiciously at him. “‘Our paths will cross again’, that was nonsense then?” 

“Would you like to dance?” he offered an arm, already pulling you toward the dance floor. You relented, continuing to badger him while he hummed and didn’t directly acknowledge your accusations.

“Admit it, you knew!” 

“The roasted duck is incredibly tender, is that a regional recipe or how the ducks are bred?” 

“The cook marinates it for two days,” you answered briefly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Your father mentioned your last Master called you simple?” 

“In so many words.”

“Their loss is my gain, I have a phenomenal collection of books you can read if you’d like.”

“I’m not letting this go,” you started back, asking him about the collection in detail, and eventually, letting it go. 

Your new friend was now your tutor and companion within the walls of the castle, as well as outside of it. 

You weren’t one to tempt the fates too much.

(—)

The path into the castle from where you had entered had three break off points. One lead to the hall by your quarters, the second led to the throne room and the third led down to the kitchens. 

For obvious reasons, the three of you decided on the kitchens, hoping to slip in unnoticed with the general chaos outside the castle. 

Before exiting the security of the tunnel, you paused, fingers drifting over the stone walls, praying their security and strength would somehow leech into you. 

“I didn’t know it was you,” Stephen murmured, leaning into your shoulder while Loki scouted ahead. 

“What?” you blinked up at him. 

“The ball,” he explained quietly. “When I first arrived, you asked if I knew and I didn’t. I was just as surprised as you were.”

Dumbfounded you turned to face him, chests nearly pressed together from the small space. 

“You acted like you had,” you scowled at him. “I was furious for months.”

“I know,” he frowned sympathetically. “But you were so impressed, because truly, you hid it well.”

“Aside from being well read,” you challenged and he shook his head. 

“There are plenty of non-royal nobles who can read a good book,” he countered softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I was transfixed by such a stunning creature with an equally stunning mind. Would you believe me if I said it was love at first sight? I almost turned down the post.”

“Will you two quit it and get a move on?” Loki hissed back into the tunnel. “It’s clear.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Gods, I’m glad I didn’t either.”

(—)

13 - a surprise 

(--)

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[ssson-of-sparda]

Strawberry Sundae

Summary: It's story time! Have you ever wondered why Dante affectionate strawberry sundaes so much? Well Patty has and luckily for her, he is about to tell her. It will just cost her a small favour. A man got to pay his debts remember.

Tags: ANGST (but with some very cute moments) / Dante’s childhood /  childhood trauma 

Author’s note: This is my take on Dante’s origins and also my first time writing for the Devil May Cry fandom. I hope I did it right and that you will love it. Set whenever you want but definitely after the DMC Anime. I made the reader female (in case I write a sequel. I have ideas for one, just tell me if you want one), but it can definitely be read as Gen!Reader if you make some small changes.

           To most people Patty Lowell looked so cute and angelic with her girly lacy dresses and her silk ribbons in her baby blond hair they’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But to Dante, she was the most annoying brat that ever walked this earth and, even though he would never admit it, also one of his dearest friends. And like all his friends, he owed her big.             “I’ll erase that from your tab.” She said as she swallowed a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.   “Oh c’mon! You keeping counts now?” Dante harrumphed and watched the kid wipe her mouth like a very distinguished lady. “You spend too much time with Lady.”   “Not too much. Just enough to know you owe me a trip to the beach, two dresses, a dozen ice cream cones and six strawberries sundaes” She counted on her fingers and Dante sighed as he slouched in the fake-leather seat of Freddy’s diner. “Well, you can’t have it all now, can you?”       “You’ve been saying this for months. And for months you’ve been eating hundreds of sundaes and bought none for me.” She grumbled, staring at him with a pout as he nonchalantly took the strawberry on top of his sundae to eat it, eyes closed to savour the sweetness of the fruit in his mouth. “What’s with your obsession with strawberry sundaes anyway?” She asked, genuinely curious. After all, even after spending so much time with Dante, watching him evolve in his natural habitat (meaning the Devil May Cry) and coming to the conclusion that Dante was a very unique species of man, one that whose diet was only based on pizzas and strawberry sundaes and that knew nothing of women, Patty still hadn’t figured why he was the way he was.   Dante opened an eye to see her impatiently waiting for an answer. “If I tell you, would you consider erasing … let’s say six sundaes of my tab?” He smirked, knowing Patty would not resist the curiosity to know more about him.             “That could be arranged. But your story better be good!”

STRAWBERRY SUNDAE

                 One more step and this would be the furthest Dante had ever been from his house. Of course, he had dared follow Vergil down to that weird old man’s house to secretly spy on his brother, wondering what was so interesting and fun in keeping a wrinkly company but he had never stepped a foot in the city. Never could. The only time he had tried and had somehow managed to go down the hill of his red home without tumbling down the steep rocky stairs and lay even just a toe on the urban pavement he was now standing on, his father and his sharp demonic earring had found him and brought him back home with a firm grip around the collar of his white shirt. Sparda had scolded him so much that day that even Vergil hadn’t dared smirking.       But here he was. Wet, trembling and cold, under a pouring rain, wondering where to go, what to do, both feet on the pavement, his tiny arms holding on tight to his father’s sword which was way bigger than he was. He had never been so terrified, so alert, his blue eyes widened and scanning all his surroundings in every direction possible like a poor defenceless animal fearing for its life, wondering if a deadly predator was secretly watching him crouched in the thickest shadow, the same kind of predator that took his mother and brother away from him.                 He wanted to call for help, ask someone, anyone for guidance but he didn’t know whom to trust or if he could trust anyone. All he knew was that he had to be strong, that he had to be a big boy, a man. That’s what his mother had told him before leaving, before … A tear streamed down his childish face. Not the first one tonight. He wiped it with his sooty knuckle but a new one appeared, bigger and more painful. It stung his eye and he cried harder. A devil should not cry but he was so tired. And he wanted his mama. And he wanted his big brother. But they were gone and behind him, his house up the hill was just a pile of smoking ash and burnt bricks.            

“Why are you crying?” Dante jumped and his small yet strong grip grabbed a hold of Rebellion’s hilt. It took his eyes a short second to fall upon the face of a little girl holding a green frog-shaped umbrella above both their heads. “Are you lost?”  She said as she tried to catch a glimpse of Dante’s face hidden behind layers of soot and wet hair. “Is it a real sword?”         “Don’t touch it!” Dante growled, pressing his father’s sword tighter against his chest, shielding it from the curious child as she tried to put her fingers on the legendary weapon. It had seen Vergil do that countless of times. And though it never worked with him, it formidably worked with the child in front of him. “It’s my dad’s.”         “Is your dad a knight?” She questioned with amazed (colour) eyes, imagining heroes in shining armours resembling the ones in the stories her mother would read her before bed. “My dad is the Legendary Dark Knight.” Dante spat, scowling behind his silver hair falling over his eyes, a pitiful and vain attempt at sending the little girl packing. After all, to her eyes, he didn’t look impressive at all, more like a wet small kitten that someone had abandoned in the street.     She shrugged “My dad doesn’t have a sword and he is not a legendary dark prince or whatever but he has a mighty spatula and his strawberry sundaes are the best in the whole kingdom!” She exclaimed with an over-the-top enthusiasm that made Dante’s weary frown even more pronounced. “That’s the name of my father’s diner.” She pointed at the pinkish red neon sign across the street. Kingdom’s diner. “You’re hungry?” Dante thought he wasn’t until he heard a rumbling in his tummy. Yes, maybe he was even though his heart was preoccupied by other things than hunger. “Come on. Follow me.”         He hesitated for a few seconds, watching the girl cross the crowded street in her way-too-large yellow oilskin - which was probably not hers now that he thought about it – and feeling the rain pouring on his shivering body again. “Well? What are you waiting for?”           With one last look at his destroyed home up on the hill, Dante finally took a step towards the girl waiting for him by the warm neon lights of the diner. And he took another step, and another, feeling a weird weight forming in his stomach. A mix of apprehension and hope. Apprehension of what’s waiting in this unknown land and hope that his father would suddenly appear and bring him back home. But once more, Sparda never showed up and the child was left alone.   Dante had never ventured that far away from home but he had no home anymore, right?

                 The diner was warm and cosy, with red plastic booth seats and speckled grey linoleum-covered tables that were incredibly clean and shiny. On the walls there were vintage-like pictures of old cars, old advertisements and old Hollywood stars who were almost all complete strangers to Dante apart from a glamorous blond woman with a weird mole and another one with a tiara and a cigarette holder. Pretty sure he had seen them both in some boring movies he had seen – or slept through - with his mother and Vergil. Mama. Vergil. He missed them already. Terribly.

A new tear fell along his cold cheek and Dante looked down, devastated that he would never see them again; guilty that he could not save them, angry that his father had not been there to protect them. And with his wet sorrow came scorching flashes and piercing screams. But soon they were covered by the sound of weird music sizzling in a machine that looked like from another time. “I always listen to music when I feel bad. I like music. Do you like music?” She was impossibly chatty but deep down Dante knew it was only to take his mind off whatever she thought he was thinking about. After all, he would use the same trick on his brother. “There are a hundred of songs in this jukebox.” So that was this hellish machine was. A jukebox. “Pick one. I’ll make some strawberry sundae” She smiled and disappeared behind the counter which was way too high for Dante to see what she was doing. “Oh but don’t play the music too loud. My parents are sleeping upstairs.”  

He didn’t know how it worked but he thought that pushing a button would do the trick. And so he did. And he almost fell on his butt when the jukebox started shaking and doing weird sizzling noises. Had he just broken it? “I… I” He mumbled pointing at the machine and the girl’s childish head popped up from behind the counter a bit like a funny rabbit leaves his hole. “Kick it!” She said and Dante looked at her, harrumphed and unsure he had heard right. His mother never allowed him to kick anything … especially not Vergil … and he kicked Vergil a lot … because he deserved it.                 “There!” The girl approached and gave the dying machine a small yet firm kick that made it come back to life. “It does that sometimes.”

“What’s with all the racket?” A loud voice growled and a man with tousled and sparse black hair appeared from upstairs. Only wearing an old navy blue robe over a white t-shirt and a pair of checked slippers, he looked asleep and yet angry. “Y/N what are you doing … up?” His somewhat aggressiveness turned into confusion when he saw Dante standing next to his beloved daughter.  He blinked a couple times and shook his head to make sure he was perfectly awake and not dreaming. What was this boy doing in his restaurant? All wet and covered in soot? “Who are you?” He managed to voice.       Dante opened his mouth though unsure what to answer. “He’s my friend.” The girl replied. “Your friend?” She nodded vigorously. “I was making him a strawberry sundae.”

If there was two things Mister Y/LN had a soft spot for, it was food – sugary and greasy food – and his precious daughter Y/N. She was his little princess, his only daughter, the apple of his eye (even when there was sleep crust in its corner like right now). He could not refuse her anything and could not stay mad at her for more than a couple of minutes to the great disappointment of his wife.  And even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help it.           “Y/N” He sighed and went to kneel in front of his daughter. “You cannot invite a little boy that late at night. I’m sure his parents must be very worried.” He glanced at Dante who looked down his brown boots hiding his eyes yet again behind his silver hair. What curious hair. “But since he is here, let’s eat those strawberry sundaes.” The little girl grinned and ran back to finish her creamy dessert with an enthusiasm that made the man smile for a small second.

Even though Mister Y/LN was weak for his daughter he was still a man of reason. Something deep in his guts was telling him something was wrong with that kid and the last thing he wanted was trouble. Who was he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? Where were his parents? Was he some kind of street kid? A child of drug dealers from the rough areas of Red Grave? Should he call the police? Maybe so. Certainly so. They would certainly know what to do. It was their job after all. He was just a cook, a sleepy cook. What could he do, except offering that scrawny kid a strawberry sundae? “Why don’t you sit, boy?” He waved at the stool and Dante climbed on it without saying a word. “I’ll be right back.”

“So what’s your name?” The little girl said as she placed two coupe glasses filled with cream, ice cream and strawberries right before Dante’s eyes that immediately ogled at the dessert with greediness. So much sugar, so much cream, so many strawberries. He loved chocolate, but this, this looked like even better than chocolate and his stomach seemed to agree.       Excited to taste it, he went to grab the spoon that was placed by the couple but was immediately stopped. “Wait. I’m not done.” Y/N shouted and, with a frown and the tip of her pink tongue out, cautiously topped both sundaes with a cherry and two pink wafers. “There. Now you can eat it.” She barely had time to finish the sentence that Dante quickly stuffed a generous spoonful in his tiny mouth. OH GOD! If his mother saw him right now eating so much sugar in the middle of the night she would be furious. But this was the most delicious thing in the world. After pizza of course.       He ate another spoonful, and another, humming after each, as he was slowly reaching a comforting sugary paradise. “I’m guessing you like it.” The little girl giggled, laughing at his mouth as round as a balloon and the cream running from the corner of his lips. Dante froze at the laugh and stare at her with a blush creeping up his inflated cheeks until he swallowed with a big gulp. “Yeah.” He confessed and Y/N smiled at the small amount of joy she caught in his childish voice.   “You still haven’t told me your name. I’m Y/N by the way.” She reached out to shake his hand and Dante stared at it for a few seconds, remembering what his mother had told him as she hid him a wardrobe.

You must change your name. Forget your past and start a new life as someone else. But who could he be? And could he be someone else? After all, he had always been Dante, the restless daredevil son of Sparda and Eva and annoying little brother to Vergil who always picked a fight for fun and found ways to be involved in new kinds of mischiefs.               There was a silence, heavy and pregnant, as the boy tried to answer the questions in his confused little head and as the girl patiently waited for him to talk. And only the lively music from the jukebox could be heard in the room. And it sang to Dante ‘Hey there Anthony boy. Why are you in such a rush (go!). The girl, she wanna talk to you. Look at him, how he blush (go!)’ giving birth to his new identity. A new beginning.               “I’m Anthony.” He finally grabbed her hand and she shook it with a smile that he tried to mimic. An effort he thought he would have never done tonight but that he did for her. Calm down, Tony me boy. “Tony for short.”         “Well nice to meet you, Tony. I’m sure we’re going to be good friends.”

And with a new spoonful of strawberry sundae he said goodbye to Dante. Hey there, Anthony boy!

***

“That was a lovely story, Dante. Sad but lovely.” Patty finally declared after being incredibly silent during Dante’s childhood story. A first. “Glad you liked it.” Dante said with a small smile that was barely concealing the sadness that this memory had brought back. “So does that mean those six sundaes are off my tab?”               “I guess so.” She shrugged as she drank the ice cream in her coupe. “Great.” He winked and stood up, throwing a bill on the table before putting his long red coat on.  “So … you love strawberry sundaes because they were the first things that gave you comfort after you lost your mom?”           “No, I love strawberry sundaes because they remind me why humans are sometimes worth fighting for.”

But mostly, he liked them because they reminded him of someone who had helped him build a new life, someone who had given him kindness, generosity and love when he thought that all he could expect from life was sorrow and pain. They reminded him of you.     Yes, that’s why he loved strawberry sundaes.

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

random thoughts while i’m re-reading sansa ii and sansa iii.

but i haven’t yet written down properly for the project sansa thing

Sansa II

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold.

Sansa II is about Sansa’s naive outlook in life. In here, she literally sees the world through gold tinted lenses.

The splendor of it all took Sansa's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind . . . and the knights themselves, the knights most of all.

"It is better than the songs," she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies.

The knights, most of all. This chapter should give us Sansa’s true knight, amongst all the false knights.It may even not be a knight, a she begins with this chapter quite idealistic but ends it knowing true knights are cruel (Gregor Clegane), and who wins the Tourney of the Hand is Sandor Clegane, who’s not a knight.

They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. 

Most likely, metaphoric for all of Sansa’s “true knight” candidates, or knights she finds through her journey. The Tourney of the Hand features in narrative order:

The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as freshfallen snow. > Sansa’s tenure in King’s Landing. These knights follow Joffrey’s orders in abusing Sansa.

Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion's-head helm and a golden sword. > Jaime Lannister stands apart from the other kingsguard, as he ignores Cersei’s orders to find Sansa and instructs Brienne to find her, giving her a lion’s head golden sword. He’s actually portrayed as a fool in this chapter, could be Dontos Hollard.

Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, thundered past them like an avalanche. > Petyr Baelish is narrativelly connected to giants.

Sansa remembered Lord Yohn Royce, who had guested at Winterfell two years before. > Sansa’s tenure at the Vale.

Septa Mordane pointed out Lord Jason Mallister, in indigo chased with silver, the wings of an eagle on his helm. > A winged knight, still at the Vale.

The girls giggled over the warrior priest Thoros of Myr, with his flapping red robes and shaven head, until the septa told them that he had once scaled the walls of Pyke with a flaming sword in hand. > A priest of R’hllor and the wall, along with a flaming sword in hand. We can think of Jon at the Wall, but we can also think of Brienne and Thoros of Myr proper as well considering the end of ADWD.

END PARAGRAPH. Chronologically, this fits the narrative. It may suggest these knights are the ones that shape Sansa’s journey. I’m not convinced of this because of how many other knights are mentioned after this.

The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. (...) His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one. (...) It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her, some stranger from the Vale of Arryn whose name she had forgotten as soon as she heard it.

As many have theorised, this may foreshadow Harry Hardying’s death. Indeed this guy dresses exactly like him, pretentiously with the Arryn coat-of-arms. Interestingly, Sansa says that she’d care if he meant something to her. Around the time Harry is likely to die, Jon is dead at the Wall. Sansa won’t care about Harry, but she’ll care about Jon.

Ser Loras (...) was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. Sansa had never seen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd.

The ideal knight, dressed in blue, with the rose thematic. Interestingly, he fights against a Royce and wins. There have been many essays about Loras paralleling Jon here.

However, Brienne also dresses in blue, she wears a blue armour, and whose childhood features a bad memory about a Ser Ronnet offering her roses but was actually mocking her behind her backs. Jon is also thematically linked with blue and roses through his mother, who loved blue winter roses.

It is my conviction Sansa’s true knight is Brienne, not Jon.

    To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." (...) She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off.     When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. (...) "You must be one of her daughters," he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. "You have the Tully look."      "I'm Sansa Stark," she said, ill at ease. (...)     "Your mother was my queen of beauty once," the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. "You have her hair." His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away.      By then, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee.

If we take this all in a chronological order, we have all the knights listed, then Loras Tyrell (Brienne, who started looking for Sansa in ACOK / ASOS), then we have Littlefinger seeing someone else in Sansa but she’s sure of whom she is (Petyr taking Sansa to the Vale, as Alyane Stone), the night comes (winter).

Sansa and Septa Mordane were given places of high honor, to the left of the raised dais where the king himself sat beside his queen. (...) She could not hate Joffrey tonight. He was too beautiful to hate. He wore a deep blue doublet studded with a double row of golden lion's heads(...). Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table.

A raised dias over everyone else (Wall), Joffrey in blue (Jon as a “Stark”), Sansa is afraid he’ll turn hateful and send her away. This is actually legitimate fear, as Sansa would go to the Wall, yet still afraid Jon would send her away. Jon actually thinks doing this to Arya somewhere in ADWD, the Wall is no place for a woman. It’s also in chronological order with the previous paragraph’s interpretation.

Instead, Joffrey’s perfectly civil, but we must remember he’s Jon’s anti-parallel so whatever’s written about the former reflects in the latter either as a parallel or an anti-parallel and that’s kind of though to figure out.

     He raised his hand to summon a servant with a flagon of iced summerwine, and poured her a cup. (...) The servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no wine. She was drunk on the magic of the night, giddy with glamour, swept away by beauties she had dreamt of all her life and never dared hope to know. (...) And Joffrey was the soul of courtesy.      (....) A thick soup of barley and venison. Salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts. Snails in honey and garlic. Sansa had never eaten snails before; Joffrey showed her how to get the snail out of the shell, and fed her the first sweet morsel himself. Then came trout fresh from the river, baked in clay; her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within. And when the meat course was brought out, he served her himself, slicing a queen's portion from the joint, smiling as he laid it on her plate. She could see from the way he moved that his right arm was still troubling him, yet he uttered not a word of complaint. Later came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar, but by then Sansa was so stuffed that she could not manage more than two little lemon cakes, as much as she loved them. She was wondering whether she might attempt a third when the king began to shout.

This is similar narrative to Sansa I, especially becomes it features the “return of the trout” and the queen imagery. I proposed in my post on Sansa I that its subtext was about Sansa becoming queen and that Joffrey was a stand-in for Jon, and that their day together foreshadowed the northern campaign. I also mentioned Joffrey’s behaviour could be seen under two different ways, either parallel or anti-parallel, especially when Joffrey is a little shit.

Entrées: no fucking idea, but apparently it involves Jon offering a “snail in honey” to Sansa. I’m... I don’t know.

Fish Course: To remember from Sansa I: “ It was a day for adventures. They explored the caves by the riverbank, and tracked a shadowcat to its lair, and when they grew hungry, Joffrey found a holdfast by its smoke and told them to fetch food and wine for their prince and his lady. They dined on trout fresh from the river, and Sansa drank more wine than she had ever drunk before. "My father only lets us have one cup, and only at feasts," she confessed to her prince.”

I proposed it was interesting because it included conquering the riverlands (exploring the caves by the riverbank would be checking out riverlords for their cause, tracking a shadowcat to its lair would be chasing the lannisters back west, and dining on trout meant taking Riverrun). This time, “her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within.” can be seen as foreshadowing a siege of Riverrun that goes well

Meat Course: To remember from Sansa I, Joffrey is humilliated and consequently never forgivies Sansa, so she’d never be a successfull queen married to her (if he was planning on that at all, since he jumped so easily to Margaery). I proposed that Jon as Joffrey’s anti-parallel would be humilliated in battle but he’d move past it (this is basically what happened in the Battle of Winterfell, he got humilliated and he saved her arse, and even expected him to be angry with her but he went all targ sibling on her forehead instead).

In here, we see what I proposed for Jon to go past it reflected, as Joffrey serves Sansa the queen’s portion, smiling as if all is forgiven despite the source of humilliation being present as “She could see from the way he moved that his right arm was still troubling him, yet he uttered not a word of complaint.” Nice guy Snow, thank you very much.

Dessert: No idea, but a few infamous ones are featured. The pigeon pie  present in the purple wedding, cinnamon apples in one of Bran’s banquets (the one he’s given the king’s portion as well), and lemoncakes (three of them), magic number.

Sansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. "It grows late," the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. "Do you need an escort back to the castle?"

The nice atmosphere is broken because Robert is a dick and fights with Cersei. Joffrey then decides to be a dick as well. This also featured in Sansa I, a boy and a girl fighting, then Joffrey makes a dick of himself.

"You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!"

Hopefully, that’s a metaphor for Aegon telling Daniella to go fuck herself, he’s the king of westeros and she does not tell him what to do. I did those dragon posts where Rhaegal (representative of Jon) seems to take take offence of Viserion (Aegon) getting trolled repeatedly.

Sansa could feel the Hound watching her. "Did you think Joff was going to take you himself?" He laughed. He had a laugh like the snarling of dogs in a pit. "Small chance of that." He pulled her unresisting to her feet. "Come, you're not the only one needs sleep. I've drunk too much, and I may need to kill my brother tomorrow." He laughed again.

Joffrey didn’t take Sansa back to Winterfell, but Jon did.

Sansa III

This chapter is completely “useless” at first glance, except for Sansa and Arya’s second squabble, which is when Ned has the ephiphany that Joffrey isn’t Robert’s kid. Other than that, it features a recap of the chapter before, two Sansa and Arya squabbles, and Ned’s "favoritism” (not really, just guilt over his sister) over Arya. So what is this chapter’s for outside of that? The subtext of course.

     "Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."     "Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me." (...)

"Stop that weeping, child," Septa Mordane said sternly. "I am certain your lord father knows what is best for you."

Urgh. lmao.

Ned promises Sansa a high-lord, who’s brave, gentle and strong, that he is no aemon the dragonknight. The latter is the “easier” one, because Jon will remembers much later that he used to say he was Aemon the dragonknight in childplay. Just one out of all that, doesn’t seem promising, eh?

After this, there’s Sansa and Arya cluing in Ned over Joffrey being a bastard aprading as the heir to the Iron Throne, which is the anta-parallel to Jon. As I said in Sansa I post, this could be foreshadowed in the sisters squabbling over Rhaegar’s rubies. It comes in chronologically order, the motifs of the fight at the Trident are similar to what’s used all over GOT, etc etc. So Jon is here again (he was present in  that segment in Sansa I as one of Rhaegar’s ruby), for some reason.

Going back to the beginning of this chapter... the conversation is kind of odd, it goes all over the place. They talk of what happens in there, then Sansa randomly remembers a dream for no reason, and wanders in her mind over this and that. It’s kind of schizophrenic writing... unless it’s kind of awkward because it’s meant to say something else in the subtext... So...

“He wouldn't send Ser Loras," Sansa told Jeyne Poole that night as they shared a cold supper by lamplight. (...) Her father's decision still bewildered her. When the Knight of Flowers had spoken up, she'd been sure she was about to see one of Old Nan's stories come to life. (...) And then Father had refused him! It had upset her more than she could tell. She had said as much to Septa Mordane as they descended the stairs from the gallery, but the septa had only told her it was not her place to question her lord father's decisions.

There have been plenty of essays comparing Jon to Loras Tyrell. This is especially important in Sansa II / Sansa III because Loras is wearing blue (odd choice, as his house colours are green) and roses, thematically connected to Jon’s mother. Ned thinks the kid is too young to be a hero, which is an interesting paralell to him refusing Jon to go to the Wall at first because he was also too young. We can also look at Ned taking Jon as his bsatard son, as taking away the chance to be the song hero. He went from a prince of roses (urgh) to a bastard.

That was when Lord Baelish had said, "Oh, I don't know, Septa. Some of her lord father's decisions could do with a bit of questioning. (...)" (...) He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow."

Ned’s decision of taking Jon as his bastard will be questioned of course and the truth will come out. Life’s not a song and Lyanna made Ned promise to protect Jon, because Robert would have killed him if he had found out. But Jon has a song, the song of ice and fire. Shut up Littlefinger.

    "Ser Ilyn's the King's Justice, not Ser Loras," Jcyne said. "Lord Eddard should have sent him."     Sansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. He made her feel as though something dead were slithering over her naked skin. "Ser Ilyn's almost like a second monster. I'm glad Father didn't pick him."      "Lord Beric is as much a hero as Ser Loras. He's ever so brave and gallant." "I suppose," Sansa said doubtfully. Beric Dondarrion was handsome enough, but he was awfully old, almost twenty-two; the Knight of Flowers would have been much better. Of course, Jeyne had been in love with Lord Beric ever since she had first glimpsed him in the lists. Sansa thought she was being silly; Jeyne was only a steward's daughter, after all, and no matter how much she mooned after him, Lord Beric would never look at someone so far beneath him, even if she hadn't been half his age.

(...) "I saw your sister this afternoon," Jeyne blurted out, as if she'd been reading Sansa's thoughts. "She was walking through the stables on her hands. Why would she do a thing like that?"

Instead, Ned chose Beric Dondarrion. There have been plenty of essays that compared Ilyn Payne to Ramsay Bolton (dead eyes and taking over the Stark legacy, etc), and Beric Dondarrion to Jon Snow (dresses in house targ clothes and was ressurrected by a priest of r’hllor, etc). The fact that Ilyn Payne is brought up by Jeyne Poole of all people and after an intermission with the white hart dream, she also mentions Arya, therefore it could be a heartbreaking nod to fake!Arya plotline.

As we also know, Ramsay and Jon have been locked into a bizarre war of wills up north, precisely over fake!Arya. Likewise Beric dying in the middle of his “mission” for the Starks and then ressurrected by a priest of R’hllor, Jon also died while he was going to retake Winterfell and save fake”Arya and its likely he’ll be ressudrected by a priest of R’hllor. In the show, Sansa took over fake!Arya storyline.

It’s interesting to note Beric is awfully old at “twenty-two”, because that’s Jon’s age give it or take it at ADWD if the timeskip between ASOS and AFFC / ADWD  have happened (he’s seventeen or so then). It’s worth noting that Beric is said to be “brave”.

“I had a dream that Joffrey would be the one to take the white hart," she said. It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic. (...) "He shot it with a golden arrow and brought it back for me." In the songs, the knights never killed magical beasts, they just went up to them and touched them and did them no harm, but she knew Joffrey liked hunting, especially the killing part. Only animals, though.

This one is interesting, because it’s sandwiched between the Ilyn Payne and Arya Stark, which could be a mention to the northern tug of war between Ramsay and Jon mentioned above. As we know though, Jon is one that would fit Sansa’s dream, because not only he protected the direwolves who are magical beasts, he took the white direwolf for himself. “Only touch them and not harm them”, dare I say... gentle? Not only that, the anti-parallel btween Joffrey and Jon is fuelled further since Jon took Lady (and later, he’ll be brigning the white wolf Ghost) back to Sansa while Joffrey took her away.

     "There was a black brother," Sansa said, "begging men for the Wall, only he was kind of old and smelly." She hadn't liked that at all. She had always imagined the Night's Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night's Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon.

Yoren of the Night’s Watch and it’s self-explanatory, since Jon as a member of the Night’s Watch is even mentioned in this segment. It’s also worth noting that Sansa fantasises the Night’s Watch to be men like Benjen Stark, the black knights of the Wall... dare I say... strong?

It’s also worth noting Sansa’s disilusion with the Night’s Watch comes after a segment that may foreshadow Ramsay and Jon “fighting” over fake!Arya, then Jon being murdered and ressurrected. Which fits eprfectly with Jon’s own disillusion with the Night’s Watch that he felt in the beginning of AGOT but also in the show when he got ressurrected. Not a happy panda.

“And later these two brothers came before him, freeriders from the Dornish Marches, and pledged their swords to the service of the king. Father accepted their oaths . . . “

The Dornish Marches are slightly north of where Jon was born, at the Tower of Joy. Bascially, the next town towards the north is located at the Dornish Marches. In the show, Jon basically pledged his sword to Sansa (Ned’s narrative heir) as well, there’s even a close-in on his sword before they re-meet at Castle Black. Strangely, Sansa IV features Sansa believing Ned’s plans to take her back to Winterfell and the promised match is a hedge knight which is a freerider without a knighthood.

So, in summary, Sansa reports on three men “auditing” Ned. Loras Tyrell, the true hero, which Ned refused and could correspond to Jon as Lyanna Stark’s son due to the narrative uses of blue and roses and refusal. Beric Dondarrion, Ned’s chosen hero, and could correspond to Jon and Ramsay’s tug-of-war with Arya. Finally, Yoren, and could correspond to Jon defecting the Night’s Watch for being disillusioned after being killed by them, something that was rpesent in the show’s foreshadowing all the way back in season 3. Not only is the story presented chronological, after Beric being “brave”, Sansa randomly recalls the white hart dream (”gentle”) and Jon as a black kngith of the wall (”strong”).

So, Jon could actually be lurking in the subtext of that bizarre conversation between Sansa and Jeyne Poole.

The kitchen yielded no lemon cakes, but they did find half of a cold strawberry pie, and that was almost as good. They ate it on the tower steps, giggling and gossiping and sharing secrets, and Sansa went to bed that night feeling almost as wicked as Arya.

The dessert again.

The next morning she woke before first light and crept sleepily to her window to watch Lord Beric form up his men.

The men preparing to war. Still goes on well chronologically with the conversation before. It had stopped at Jon quitting the Night’s Watch and pledging to Sansa.

     "Liar," Arya said. Her hand clenched the blood orange so hard that red juice oozed between her fingers.      "Go ahead, call me all the names you want," Sansa said airily. "You won't dare when I'm married to Joffrey. You'll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace." She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap.      "You have juice on your face, Your Grace," Arya said.

So from the subtext from Sansa I and Sansa II, I’m convinced Sansa will become queen MUCH sooner than in the show. This squabble over here is interesting, because Arya calls her “your grace” as if she was already queen. So in the subtext that may correlate to that.

This of course, comes with a very strong imagery of wedding consummation. Sansa is wearing a white dress, that gets stained by blood orange juice (red in colour) at the lap (crotch area). Are they related?

The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. "I hate her!" she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night's fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.

In addition, this white dress has red blood, but it also has black fire when it’s thrown into the ashes of the hearth. The words of House Targaryen are fire and blood, the colours are red and black.They’re all there, in this white dress. So it's a Targaryen (virgin, ehem) wedding dress... for Sansa. There are only two male left for that to happen and only one of them has been lurking in the background.

And after this, comes Ned’s covnersation about Sansa’s true match. So Jon’s all over the subtext, of a chapter with wedding consummation imagery and Ned Stark’s promise of the “true one”. Why, if not to marry his arse to Sansa? I do not know.

[setsuna-maru]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, 半妖の夜叉姫 | Hanyou no Yashahime | Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rin/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha) Characters: Rin (InuYasha), Sesshoumaru (InuYasha), Zero (Hanyou no Yashahime), Riku (Hanyou no Yashahime), Jaken (InuYasha) Additional Tags: Pre-Hanyou no Yashahime, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, Angst, Pregnancy, Horror Elements Summary:

Rin and Sesshoumaru have embarked on the life of expectant parents to hanyo twins but not everyone is happy for the devoted couple. In the shadows awaits a spider whose venomous bite will both rekindle old nightmares and create entirely new ones.

Zero, still resentful from the Inu no Taisho's rejection and death hundreds of years earlier, schemes to bring down his son Sesshoumaru and his human bride.

All the while, the ill-fated pair will make the most of their fleeting time together, forging a unique path and dancing to their own rhythm.

Chapter 1: the night bandits/venus; the star love, who waits for the moon

nocturne one: the night bandits

(in the darkest point of night, I want you to be here like before...)

 It’s as though Rin has been sent back in time, for she finds herself walking around her old village; a small child once again. She's having trouble coming to terms with the sudden reversal. Looking down at her body she sees tiny, bare feet and a distinct lack of womanly curves. Her kimono is one she remembers well but hasn't worn in many years. A pinkish-red garment that wraps around her lithe, diminutive frame as she brushes her now child-sized hands across it in confusion and disbelief. Her view of her surroundings is that of a child’s too; once more knee-high to the rest of the world, she must gaze upwards at seemingly everyone and everything she comes across. 

  This isn't right  , she thinks. We're all those years just a dream? Had she never really grown up? Had  Sesshoumaru-sama  been merely a dream? All of her adventures? The time spent living with Kaede-sama in the miko's village? It's heartbreaking to think that the entire life that she lived since leaving this place might never have actually happened at all. She wonders, sadly,  what about her babies? An expectant mother—the last she remembered—at the age she's regressed to, motherhood could be enacted only with dolls and her own imagination.

 She idly wanders the village, re-visiting all the old landmarks of her childhood. She passes the paddy fields, the fish preserve, the drunken old hermit who always sat beside the same rock with a bottle of sake clutched in his hand. When he drank he liked to sing songs about the good old days and he sings the same one each time she passes. “ That’s the sound of a million ships/ just sailin’ away/it can feel like before/comin’ through, either way.”  At one point, Rin even comes upon the dilapidated shack that she'd lived in after becoming an orphan. She enters it and there’s a wolf, curled up asleep on her bed of straw and she swiftly but silently backs away until she’s on the main pathway again.

 She remembers how to get to her childhood home; knows the path like the back of her hand. She chooses to avoid it; backtracking or taking a sudden swing in the opposite direction when she realizes she’s getting too close. It’s as if returning there would mean accepting that her life since the death of her family had been nothing more than an illusion. She’s not ready for that. She’s still in denial, thinking that if she turns the right corner she’ll end up back under a tree; her head in Sesshoumaru’s lap, their hanyo twins growing in her womb. It’s as if the village itself is waiting on her to accept her retrogradation; the villagers do not speak to her or seem to even acknowledge that she’s there. It’s like she’s caught in some strange limbo; unable to rejoin this world but prevented from moving on. She floats through the village like a spirit who does not belong there anymore. A stranger in a body she can't accept as her own; merely the puppeteer of it's bird-like, underdeveloped limbs.

 Eventually, the world gets tired of waiting for her while she wanders around in circles and Rin is deposited into her childhood home. She had taken a left at the singing hermit (“ That’s the sound of a million ships/just sailin’ away/it can feel like before/comin’ through, either way.”) and walked directly into the cozy wooden house of her youth. Her mother is sitting in the middle of the room,  tending to the fire pit. Her brothers play a game in the corner. Her father has dozed off on the straw mat, exhausted after a long day.

 Her mother adds another log to the burning flames and addresses her daughter. “Rin, don’t be lazy. You’ve been mucking around for years now. Enough is enough. Come help your  Oka .”

 Rin’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Her mother  knew; knew Rin had been gone for  years. How could she have let her mother think she’d abandoned the family like that? What kind of daughter was she? Why would she ever—

  None of this makes any sense. She’d had every reason to believe that her family were dead and gone forever. She’d  watched  them die. It had seemed so real; her most painful memory. The one that had continued to haunt her for long after. She'd watched these people  die  but here they were, nonetheless.

 She looks at her now-living family and wants to feel happy. That horrible night; the screaming, the stabbing, the blood—It had all been just some terrible dream. And now, they’ve been given a second chance. She could look forward to the future where her family was alive and they could all be together again.

 But, despite telling herself this, Rin can’t muster up a single feeling of happiness at the sight in front of her. It was like looking at ghosts. Ghosts that don’t even realize they’re ghosts.

  Dead dead dead.  All of you are  dead, she thinks.

 A bright, orange light starts to emit from outside. Rin turns around. There’s light emitting from the lone window at the front wall and from a bright square that has formed around the doorway.  She goes over and pushes the doorway curtain aside to see what’s going on but the light is so bright it nearly blinds her. She reaches an arm up to cover her eyes as she lets the curtain fall.

 When she opens her eyes again, everything is dark. She's still in her family's old house but it’s almost pitch-black and she struggles to make out the forms of her parents and brothers, asleep under their covers. The orange glow begins to peek through the window again and the room is gradually illuminated with the color—the color of flames, she realizes.

 Against the far wall, the orange light begins to morph into distinctive shapes. Hulking men in armor with weapons in their grasps. Behind her she can hear the stomping of horse hoofs and the cries of the neighbors. The orange glow illuminates the entire room now, in a mockery of daylight. The light is oppressive and overly luminescent and makes it seem as though the house could explode into flames at any second.

 The stomping noise is now dangerously close and Rin dives out of the path of the doorway moments before men on horseback crash through the front wall of the house. It's instant chaos as the horses neigh loudly, the men shout and her family screams as they scramble out of bed.

 Rin’s only instinct is to escape. It makes her feel like a terrible coward but she knows she'll surely be killed if she stays. The bandits have already started on her parents. One of them roughly grabs her mother, yanking off the kimono she'd been sleeping under and stabbing her with a long spear. The painful howls emitting from her mother’s mouth are even more awful to hear than the sight is to witness.

 She needs to get away. Praying the chaos will be enough to allow her to get out of the house unnoticed, she props herself up on her hands and knees and crawls as quickly and quietly as she can to the doorway. As soon as she makes it outside, she climbs to her feet and breaks into a run.

 Her escape doesn't bring safety though. It did, once. In a memory she no longer trusts was ever real.

 The bandits are everywhere. 

 There's no direction she can run to avoid them. While she stands immobile in the middle of the village, desperately considering her dwindling options, the bandits begin to notice her. They point and yell. "The little girl, let's take her too!"

 "Grab her before she gets away!"

 "Kill her if she tries to resist!"

 "Kill her anyway!"

 They begin to advance on her and Rin can think of only way she could possibly be saved.

 "Sesshoumaru-sama!" She screams. But it's too early. He doesn't know her yet. If he ever really existed at all. If he wasn't just a dream she'd made up in her mind.

 "Sesshoumaru-sama!" She screams again. She screams his name over and over again until she feels the bandits blade in her side and the moist flow of blood as it drips down her skin.

 tarantella one: venus; the star love, who waits for the moon

(when you go, do you miss me?)

 Rin's eyes snap open and in her first few manic moments of consciousness, Rin bolts to a sitting position and pulls her kimono up to examine her leg. The sensation of something wet on her thigh is still there. A quick exploration with her fingers confirms this and her heart drops. She pushes more of the fabric out of the way to get a better view and her eyes land on the trail of blood running down her leg.

  Real, real, it was real, she thinks as she frantically searches for a wound. Something had really hurt her,  stabbed her,  and now she was going to bleed out on the forest floor. In her distressed state, she ignores what should be the curious lack of pain if she had indeed suffered a flesh wound. Instead, she continues to look for evidence of the deep cut she’s convinced is somewhere on her body.

 "Rin," a low, deep voice breaks into her panicked thoughts.

 "Calm yourself.” Sesshoumaru leans down on one knee beside her, his clawed hand coming to cradle her chin.

 “The bleeding just started. I smelled it and was about to wake you." The voice is measured but laced with concern. She was one of the few people who have recognized the nuance.

 It’s such a relief for Rin to hear that voice. Just hearing his voice and being in his presence grounds her and she allows herself to accept that the experience had only been a nightmare and she's now safely back in the real world.

 She  was  bleeding, though. Rin examines her leg closer. She's calmer now but still disorientated from the nightmare. Not completely back to reality just yet.

 "Rin was having a nightmare," she says. "Someone stabbed me in my leg. There was so much blood," she explains.

 "There's no wound," Sesshoumaru reassures her. "It was just a dream. The bleeding; it’s from your cycle.” His keen sense of smell meant he could accurately judge the difference.

 She gulped nervously. “Do you think the babies are alright?”

 “It’s probably nothing to worry about,” he reassures her again, although they’re both well aware that he’s hardly an expert in the subject.

 This isn’t the first time this has happened to her. Rin had been a midwife-in-training and knew that women were supposed to cease bleeding during pregnancy, so when she’d bled the first time after knowing she was with child she’d panicked, believing she was having a miscarriage. Sesshomaru had had to rush her to the nearest human village so she could be told by a jaded local midwife with an obvious distaste for human-yokai relations that she hadn’t suffered a miscarriage. Apparently, continuing to bleed even while pregnant was normal and didn’t necessarily indicate a problem. Though, even with this information, Rin still found herself becoming anxious each time it happened subsequently.

 “Rin is going to the pond to clean up,” she says, rising to her feet. “Will you wait here until I come back?” Her nightmare had greatly disturbed her and she really doesn’t want to return to find herself alone.

 Sesshoumaru nodded and Rin began to walk toward the pond. Another stream of blood rolls down the length of her thigh and she holds her kimono and her underlayer up and away from her body. They were already slightly bloodied and she doesn’t want to risk staining them further.

 It’s still very early in the morning. The sun has yet to come up and Rin has to strain her eyes to tell where she's going and walk slowly so she won’t trip over anything. Treading barefoot across the lush field at such an ethereal hour, she’s able to relax slightly. The stark, cool sensation of dewy blades of grass catching between her toes is refreshing compared to the warm, sticky blood that drips down her legs.

 Rin wonders if the nightmares about her family’s death will ever go away completely. They had become significantly less frequent over the years and she’d gotten to the point where she could go months without having one at all. But they always returned. There seemed to be no comfort in the entire world, not even the devotion of Sesshoumaru-sama himself, that could keep them at bay.

 She reached the pond and stripped off her kimono, leaving herself clad only in her hadajuban. She carefully rinses the blood out of the cloth and then sets it aside. Splashing some of the pond water onto her legs, Rin cleans the sticky liquid from her skin. Once she finishes, she picks up her kimono and begins to walk back before pausing to admire the sky. Dawn would be breaking soon; the first hints of sunlight were peeking out over the horizon, leaving only the brightest stars still visible.

 “Beautiful, isn’t it,” a man’s voice, unfamiliar to her ears, breaks into her reverie.

 Rin jumps a little, startled. She’d had no idea anyone else was even out there. Even though it’s still quite dark, she pulls her dampened kimono back on. It would be improper for a married woman like herself to be seen in her hadajuban by someone who wasn’t her husband. Once she’s convinced she’s decent enough, she darts her head around in search of the voice's origin. Blinking into the fading darkness, she spots a figure perched atop a rock at the edge of the pond.  Had that person been there the entire time?

 Rin could just make out the man’s appearance. He was fairly tall, with chin-length hair and wearing a dark kosode under a lighter colored haori and a pair of striped hakama. Despite addressing her, the man wasn’t looking towards her. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the lightening sky.

 “That bright planet that hangs up there on early mornings like this; do you know the name of it?” he asks her.

 Rin looks back to the sky, where one star burned bigger and brighter than any of the others.

 “Oh,” she says, “‘that’s ‘the metal star’ isn’t it?” That was the name that Rin had known it by, although Miroku-sama had told them other names for it he had been aware of, like Jīn-xīng and Shukra Graha.

 “Venus; the morning star,” the man says, eyes transfixed on the celestial object in question.  “The star of love.”

 Rin was intrigued by the man’s description. She could understand why it would be called ‘the morning star’ but...

 “Why, ‘the star of love?’”

 “There exists a far-off land called Rome,” he tells her, “where they ‘do as the Romans do’ as they say!” He says this with a laugh but Rin doesn’t get the reference and isn’t sure what about it is supposed to be funny.

 “The ancient Romans worshipped Venus as their goddess of love and named the brightest star in the sky in her honor.”

 “Ah!” he continues, “but the Romans aren’t the only ones who associate this star with love. Travel west towards the continent and you’ll find those who refer to it by two names; sao Mai, the morning star and sao Hôm, the evening star. Because they’re considered distinct entities, existing at different times, they’re likened to separated lovers. They also have another word for the same star, sao Vượt—The climbing star.”

 The sky was becoming lighter and lighter as the man talked and Rin could make out his physical appearance more clearly now. He looked young and not really like any human Rin had encountered, with his auburn-colored hair. But he didn’t look like a yokai either. Perhaps he was a traveling foreigner; it would explain how he knew so much about far-away lands and cultures.

 “The climbing star?” she inquires.

 The man nods. “They have a poem about it; ‘When you go, do you miss me? I am the climbing star waiting for the moon in the sky .’”

 “That’s beautiful,” Rin says. It reminds her of a song she used to sing.  ‘I will wait, all alone/For Sesshoumaru-sama’s return.’

 That was what she was, Rin thinks. A climbing star. A morning star. Venus, with all her love, who waits for her evening moon.

 “It is?” the man asks. “Beautiful?”

 “Yes,” Rin nods. “It reminds me of a song I used to sing.”

 “Oh?” he says, finally turning to look at her. There’s a peculiar expression on his face. “What did it sound like—Your song?”

 Rin feels a sudden sense of unease at the tone in his voice.

 “Was it…” he hums a brief melody, “the sound of a million ships, just sailing away… ”

 Rin can feel her heart sink. She  knows  she’s heard that before. But  where had she heard that before? It sounded so familiar to her but try as she might, she just couldn’t place it. She racks her brain, trying to come up with the memory.

 The man continues to stare at her, vacantly. All the friendliness from before has been drained away.

 “Rin,” Sesshoumaru’s voice says from behind her. “Is this man bothering you?”

 Rin turns around to see him standing there, eyes slightly narrowed.

 “No, Sesshoumaru-sama, everything is fine. This man was just telling Rin about—”

 She turns back to the mysterious stranger but there’s no one perched atop the rock and the man is nowhere to be seen.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 65 – What I Truly Must Do

“Sir?” 

Takio adjusted his gaze into the direction that Yuigi’s eyes and voice were headed to. 

A white-haired man dressed in a hospital gown wordlessly gave them an acknowledging look, right after which he returned to his play-meerkat stance. 

The course of his action was as swift as a lightning, enough to convince some spectators, if there were to be more besides the two visitors, that he was a man who knew nothing of manners. 

Hence Takio and Yuigi mimicked his behavior out of curiosity, and understanding lit across their faces. 

They happened to be standing in the area within the KSA infirmary, at the corridor with the wall partially made of glass for bystanders and passersby to observe what is taking place inside. 

And Tao was tending to several civilians sent to KSA on the other side of the wall. 

Takio and Yuigi were in the middle of their search for the rest of the RK, to discuss how they should wrap up the calamity at Seoul. 

Since they were unaware that Rael had a small business with Yuhyung in the ICU, they sought Tao. 

They have found him, only to remain immobile in their places. 

It was not because Tao was putting up a show of “how-to-make-a-back-and-forth-marathon-in-a-hospital,” doing nearly as thrice as much work than others, checking up on patients and assigning drugs and orchestrating treatments. 

Their eyes were locked upon a child. 

Back when the gas launched by Tao finally put an end to the disaster at Seoul, the 3rd Elder was lying flat on the earth as an aftermath. 

But he was more concerned about the well-being of the bodies around him, and on the other hand he pled that they send the fastest among them to the site he had in mind. 

Not long after, Rael retrieved from the coordinates he provided a girl and a woman the former addressed as her mom, whose blood pressures were being measured by Tao. 

“If it does not concern you, may I ask what is your relation to that girl?” 

Asked Takio, who remembered how the 3rd Elder was visibly relieved after he was shipped to KSA, to witness that Rael performed his commission to perfection. 

Could they be a family? 

Yuigi was also waiting, her question tugging at her nerves. 

“If the relation you speak of is a biological type, I assure you that me, that girl, and her mother does not share any sort of genetic bond.”

“...Really? Then why would you ask me – ask Rael to prioritize that girl and her mother in collection?” 

“...I owe that kid a debt.” 

“A debt...?” 

“...If I were give you the details...” 

At then 3rd Elder’s lips emitted a poof that was most certainly meant to be a smirk, making Takio and Yuigi wonder what in the world could the man be planning to tell them. 

“I’d say that kid is my master in shopping.” 

Two pairs of eyes, one cyan and one light olive, rippled with confusion at the series of words that they deemed impossible to hear from 3rd Elder, whether it is a jest or not. 

Their confusion grew harder as they ascertained that his claim was as unfeigned as it could be. 

The 3rd Elder was wearing a smile deriving from his heart as he regarded the kid. 

He was truly grateful that she was safe. 

And he was truly abominating himself for what the girl and her mother had to go through. 

*****

By the time Frankenstein took to his mouth the wolfsbane tonic that he changed the components of, the 3rd Elder was sprinting out of his island, wrenching himself by force from the purgatory of his heart. 

Snapping at himself that a bowl of water once toppled is no longer worthy of carrying, he did not cease until he joined Helga in Seoul. 

It’d be preferable to have our enemies learn that you are now with us as late as possible. So for now, I must ask you to stay here. We’d appreciate it if you could back us up when you determine it is necessary. 

After the brief briefing, 3rd Elder assumed his position on top of a building not very far from KSA. 

When the cataclysm Helga mentioned broke in the city, he observed everything from where he was standing. 

During the briefing, he was told that everything was simply one of very small steps that will help them unlock the new beginning of the Union.

In fact, that was what he had been lecturing himself even before the briefing. 

‘But why...? Just why would I feel this way...?’ 

Ever since his lodging at Frankenstein’s island, he had been tormented by sense of loss and melancholy stasis that he could not fathom the end to. 

He had given his all to the Union, for mankind’s evolution and growth, and ultimately for mankind’s peace and welfare. 

Union has been his alpha and omega, the commanding key in his every steps and choices and words and actions. 

Alas, now nobody could ever promise that Union will have a future to look up to. 

Instead he had accustomed himself to the ordinary life that had been perfusing into his days and nights; however, he chose to shake himself off from such life to finally lend a hand to the rise of Union back to heaven. 

But why? 

He knew that some sacrifices are a must, as he and Helga intended to critically sabotage the force that must be gone for Union’s revival. 

Besides, he had hundreds of experiences in watching, apprehending, administering, and forgetting such sacrifices during his time at the Union.

Nonetheless, he could feel his heart moaning as he took in how civilians erratically deformed and disfigured were spraying and spreading blood about them. 

He had to fight an iron-hard urge to abandon his post, against which he miraculously managed to prevail as victorious.

‘Don’t you dare. Now there’s no going back. You can only go forward. You must.’ 

The man hammered his lips with his teeth, forceful enough to draw blood, and even shut his eyes tight, until a horror-stricken voice shrill enough to rend anybody’s heart menacingly pierced his eardrums.

His eyes snapped open at the suggestion from the voice that its owner was no older than ten. 

When the breath that was stuck in his throat restarted its circulation, he had already hopped onto the street into a sprint. 

Soon enough he could lock on the origin of the shriek, and his heart twisted as if it were struck by a meteor. 

“Mommy...! Mommy...!!!” 

A girl was dripping tears at how her mother, as loving as any mother would be just a moment ago, was growling at her. 

As much as she was shuddering in terror, her natural-born affinity to the center of her world forbid her from refuge. 

Nevertheless, a parent who lost her abilities to tell her daughter from her foes revealed her sharpened teeth and lunged towards her. 

At the same time, 3rd Elder hollered at the top of his lungs.

“NOOOO!!!” 

Instantly his eyes flashed, keeping his power just about right to keep the woman fixed on the ground. 

Yet his power was far too great for a puny girl to take, and she fell to her feet, to safely stumble onto her savior who had dashed right away to her side. 

And his eyes started during the course of his anxious, hurried inspection. 

‘You...?!’ 

Fate could be cruel at the most unappreciated moment, thought 3rd Elder, who was too hasty just before to study the profile of the girl. 

The girl was his little helping hand. 

The girl who taught him how to use a self-checkout machine, on the day when he first met Helga in this country – the day when he was almost drowned in the questions about the Union, Union’s purpose, and Union’s future as he stood in the middle of ordinary people busy with their ordinary lives. 

The girl whose face was marred with tears, shocked beyond her sanity that her mother got very close to ripping her head from her shoulders. 

The girl who was nearly made victim to the bloodshed that none other than 3rd Elder himself was part of. 

‘She knows nothing about my world... She has nothing to do with my world. She has done nothing wrong. And because of me, this girl...!’ 

The man’s head drooped, boneless, until a cacophony from humans attempting to maul him hit his senses. 

Pushing them away with a single glance, 3rd Elder could at last take in the view surrounding him. 

A wife and a husband were chomping on each other’s limbs, tramping over the bag of fried chicken that was supposed to serve as their late-night snack.

One of the duo of students on their way home had his shoulder bitten by his friend, who was equally spilling blood from his arm nailed with a row of teeth. 

A group of young men , strangers to each other, were scrambled into a ball of flesh and blood. 

They were all innocent people, who should have had no business at all with what 3rd Elder and Helga had planned. 

‘This is for the sake of mankind’s evolution and growth, and ultimately for peace and welfare...? This is the inevitable gateway to Union’s return, future, and purpose...?’ 

The white-haired elder recounted what Helga guaranteed him. 

At the same time, he beheld the catastrophe no different from what he had familiarized himself with at Union, or perhaps worse, considering how these were all ordinary people. 

And slowly his head began to turn sideways.

Once. 

Twice. 

And again and again. 

‘No... This is wrong!’

Finally the realization of what he had unleashed upon Seoul – in reality, what he had been endeavoring to ignore – crushed upon his shoulders. 

Unconscious of what he was doing, 3rd Elder held his head low, to gaze at the girl who was still listless in his arms. 

He also held in his eyes a tiny lollipop she was clutching in her fingers even now, probably a gift from her mother. 

A sight that pushed a cloud of heat and moisture to the corners of his eyes. 

A child perfectly aged to fool around, have fun, and gorge herself on a bunch of sweets was caught in a night of horror like nothing else. 

All because of him. 

‘This isn’t what I wanted...! I...!’ 

This isn’t what you wanted? 

Don’t play innocent. You’re the one who brought this upon her.

The voice within him yelled into his head, as if it were waiting for the moment, and 3rd Elder’s entire body shook in dreadful tremor. 

‘What have I done...?!’ 

He almost lost his breath, nearly swept away in the tsunami of regret; however, he persevered like never before to still and keep himself standing.

Sealing his lips, shedding blood as the result of his ruthless mincing, he started to move. 

He stacked all the modified humans in the largest crossroads, and he ran into Yuigi in the middle, seemingly trying her best to find an exit from this situation, and they shared what they knew, before he handed her a spare communicator he had. 

He did not forget to pick up the girl and her mother, to safely tuck them away from the rest. 

When he managed to reach Tao and learn his plan, he did not wait to urge him to do it, despite Tao’s warning that he could lose his power. 

He figured it is a must-have sacrifice.

In fact, he did not care if he were to lose his powers. 

His powers were what represented him as the elder of the Union. 

They were the most powerful, essentially the only connection he had to the Union. 

Yet here he was, willing to lose – no, willing to give up on his powers. 

For he knew they were not what truly mattered.

‘How I wish I learned sooner what truly matters... What Union truly had to do... What I truly must do.’ 

Which was why he did not regret at all that he might lose his powers.

Which was why he accepted it as natural as the sun rising from the east. 

Which was what he was ready to do in order to pay for what he had done, if it could be paid for. 

Feeling how his heart was being steeled in wholeness, somewhere between guilt and relief, 3rd Elder smiled until Tao’s missile landed.

*****

Knock, knock. 

Tao drummed the glass Takio and Yuigi were also looking into. 

In notice of the sound, 3rd Elder scrubbed the smile off his face, to whom Tao waved his hand in invitation. 

“What is it?” 

“Someone’s looking for you, sir.” 

I don’t think there is anyone who would require my presence, thought 3rd Elder as he followed Tao, and he flinched upon reaching his destination.

“Mister!” 

The girl jumped off her bed and threw her arms around his waist, not giving any hint whether her recognition is based upon their encounter at the market or from her vague memory about her savior. 

The man froze, unresponsive, feeling too guilty to show any welcoming gesture, and the girl rummaged her pocket. 

“Here!” 

From the girl’s pocket was revealed a lollipop, the one that she was holding during the disaster at Seoul, and 3rd Elder’s eyes momentarily bulged in surprise. 

“...Is this for me?” 

“Yeah! Mr. Handsome over there (At then 3rd Elder’s hesitant, unconvinced eyes shifted towards Tao very shortly, who was smirking in glory and pride) told me that you took away the bad stuff in me and my mom! So you can have it!” 

He knew she would otherwise hate to give away a single treat, given her age. 

He knew he should thank her at once, but he spoke of something else, completely barred from innocence in the presence of the girl. 

“Are you sure you want to give this to me?” 

“I’m okay! I can ask my mommy to buy me new one!” 

Exclaimed the girl, until her face grew a shade closer to a frown. 

“So I want to get out of hospital fast. I want to go have picnic with mommy. And buy candies.” 

Her spectator’s lips were ironed taut at an instant, as he stared at how the girl pouted with her cheeks puffed up. 

However, he soon placed his hand on her head and beamed at her.

“Don’t worry. You’ll soon get to do that.” 

“Really? You promise?!” 

“Promise. I promise you.” 

You will get to do what you want to. What you have to. 

You will get to enjoy your ordinary life, as you should. 

“Luckily, the kid is practically clean of the effect of the gas, probably because she is not completely grown up. Of course, I’m keeping my eyes on her just in case. No need to worry.” 

Quoted Tao for the 3rd Elder, as they walked away from the girl and her mother. 

“By the way... I’m hoping to run more thorough tests on you. I know you went through the most basic ones, but you need to go through ‘check-ups’ check-ups to figure out how much damage that gas caused upon...” 

“Sure.” 

Tao and Takio and Yuigi, who were waiting for them to finish, gaped at the 3rd Elder, their eyes wide open, for they expected him to decline at least once, genuinely or not. 

“Uh... Sure. Why not?” 

“And make it happen ASAP, please.” 

“Uh... Yeah. Sure thing. But why did you suddenly change your mind?” 

“...Let’s just say there’s something I must do, before I die.” 

The three listeners silently flipped but said nothing, seeing how he was so very blasé for a person who was expecting death. 

They could only tail him with teetering steps, as he led the way to the lab. 

And thus things were projected and progressed in order, and by the time the examinations and treatments were complete on people sent to KSA and hospitals under association with KSA, the one person they had been waiting for finally made his comeback. 

At last Frankenstein returned to Korea. 

(next chapter)

This chapter shows the process through which 3rd Elder changed his mind and sided with the RK, as he has been getting familiarized with ordinary life and starting to question Union’s purpose and existence. Like I mentioned in my previous chapters, in the early seasons Noblesse focused on the value of ordinary life, so I wanted to highlight this through 3rd Elder and his characterization in this fic. Now his story has been almost wrapped up, and I have a few more stories to unravel for this fic. I’ll do my best until the final chapter, and thanks for staying with me so far! :)

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 2: Twisted (Part 2)

Warnings: violence, torture (physical and mental), cruelty, murder

Author notes: there they start, at last, the horrible things I am able to write... I swear I am a nice person though! >.< anyway, I hope to enjoy nonetheless, but, again, do pay extra attention to the warnings, which may not sound as heavy as the actual work is...

Being far from my superior, I was allowed some respite. I was not beaten, yelled at, threatened nor insulted. I was exhausted, because of my ability, but also because of the harsh words he would bark at me when my achievements were disappointing.

Nevertheless, my enthusiasm was quickly spoiled by the man replacing Dazai-san, his second in command. Much older than my executive — he was around forty — he went by the common name of "Yamada-san" and did not seem to know how to use his brain cells, to the point that even I, whom I did not consider intelligent, could easily call him stupid. Or, perhaps stupid was a bit too harsh on him. Simple-minded would be better. His strategies reflected this fact, in the sense that they rarely did predict any counterattack nor did they measure the losses we could suffer. Often, we would have to find a way out by ourselves in the middle of the mission, and the effect of surprise supposed to give us advantage seldom succeeded. I never would have believed I could miss my superior, yet, at the very least, however careless he was toward his men, he did not send us to death mindlessly. I believed Yamada-san, occupying one of the highest seats of the Port Mafia, tended to see the members of the squadron as pawns he could easily sacrifice to complete his mission, whereas Dazai-san moved us intelligently to win with minimum losses. Having talked with a few members about our situation, I knew we all agreed about a fact; we were not disposable pawns in the eyes of our executive, and the second in command took too much liberties with us. Even so, the only thing we could do was waiting for a week to pass.

Yamada-san also took sadistic pleasure into sending me, particularly, to missions he knew were dangerous, mostly with an unprepared strategy. From tailing illegal dealers who robbed our stocks of drug to meeting a contact within the government to gather important information, I had often seen myself on the brink of being killed, or worse, being arrested and interrogated about the Port Mafia. Fortunately, I had always managed to escape or to suppress my opponent beforehand, to the second in command's displeasure. During the first few days, I had also taken numerous jobs as an executioner; I would find and eliminate betrayers of the organisation. The signature protocol for this matter was rather simple. After breaking the traitor's jaw on the pavement with a kick behind his head, I would turn him around to shoot three bullets into his chest while he would be screaming in agony. This method let the whole Yokohama know the Port Mafia was behind the murder, and the police would not try to investigate the case further. The first time such work had been given to me, I had not had too much issues with killing he man. I had already murdered two people before entering the Mafia, I was no stranger to the ways of taking one's life. However, I had had troubles pointing my gun on the man's chest, at the beginning. He was wailing, begging for his life, and he had not harmed me in any way. It was not a situation of defence, but a conscious killing. I could have witnessed horror in his eyes when he had understood he would not go back to his family the evening, and I had shut my mind. This path stained of blood, I had chosen it myself when I had followed Dazai-san, that day. I had to face the consequences, and I had to do the job. Not only was it necessary for me to survive, but it was also my duty, for I was a mafioso. Finally, I had found it pretty easy to pull the trigger thrice. A human's life was so absurdly easy to steal, so fragile, so worthless. The world I evolved in did not even permit me to loathe myself; killing people was my occupation, it was not worse than working in an office, was it? Besides, the Port Mafia had been the only place willing to take me in after I had been abandoned by my parents first, then by the dream-like benefactors who had proved to be monsters looking for easy money. The only future I could get, if I even had one, considering my ability was killing me, would be found in that underground organisation, and no matter what I wished for, no matter what I had once expected from life, all those prospects and desires were no more. The entire will of the Port Mafia had become mine, and I lived only to serve its purpose and obey my superior's orders. So that I could keep breathing the filthy air we filled our lungs with everyday, I had become a depraved puppet in the hands of people much more powerful than I would ever be, and I did not mind. Struggling against the fate decided for me would result in a loss of energy I could not afford, not in my state.

"Spare me! I beg you, spare me!!" The man cried as he ran away from my team in the narrow alleys of Yokohama.

Calmly, I followed him, without any rush. I had learnt the maps of the intricate maze of forgotten places of the town, those paths had no secret for me. Soon enough, I cornered him into a dead end, and he was forced to turn around, back against the wall behind him as though he could melt in it and miraculously disappear. I stood in front of him, staring at his pitiful face, drenched in sweat and tears.

"I'll tell you everything you want! I'll make up for my mistakes, so, please, don't kill me!" He fell onto his knees.

I kept staring at him, emotionless. This person had betrayed the Port Mafia by divulging important information to the police about our drug dealing businesses, in exchange for being protected as a witness. However, whether there were guards or not around his house, he could not escape the men sent after him — me — and would have to face retribution soon.

"Please... Please..." He sobbed.

Quietly, I pulled by box of pills out of my pocket and put one in my mouth. The pain relievers worked well to calm my headache, and I hummed, getting closer to him.

"Working for the Port Mafia requires to respect a few rules." I told him, crouching in front of him "But among them, unwavering loyalty toward the organisation is the most important one, so obvious no one even mentions it. Should you be tortured, should you be interrogated, never would you utter a single word about the Port Mafia. Any secret you know about us is to be taken with you to your grave, that is how we work, that is what you should have expected upon joining us."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I was afraid... I didn't think..."

"You are sorry...?" I tilted my head slightly "Because of you, we are going to lose hundreds, thousands of dollars. Next to that sum, your life is a cheap payment, isn't it?"

"No... Please..." He sniffed pitifully, bowing in front of me and holding the hem of my coat "Please spare me... I have a wife, and a daughter..."

"I know." I raised his head harshly so I could look at him in the eyes "They've already been notified of your death, and the funerals are almost ready, too. All that's missing is the guest of honour — you. But you had to run away and make things difficult for you. You trapped yourself in that dead end, and I can't even break your jaw on the sidewalk, because there is no sidewalk, you see? I guess you'll have it the hard way..."

"No... No!!" He shouted as I stood up and threw him on the ground.

"Open your mouth." I demanded "And try to bite the dust, I don't know."

Knowing he could suffer more if he did not obey, he did his best to facilitate the process of breaking his jaw. His scream echoed in the alley the moment my heel crushed the back of his head, but I clicked my tongue.

"See..." I examined his mandible "Not yet broken. That's what you get for running away, I suppose..."

My men stayed quiet as I repeatedly kicked his head, making him cry until his vocal chords gave up on him and he could only yelp and whimper each time my foot met his head. After a few times, the familiar cracking sound reached my ears and I sighed deeply.

"Finally...!" I exclaimed "Goodness, I thought I would never be able to do it...! Usually, it only takes me a single attempt... Now, now... Do you have any last word? None? Oh, I was inconsiderate... Both your jaw and voice are broken... You can't possibly answer me. It is fortunate that I can at least hear your last thoughts... Don't worry, your daughter will be perfectly fine. She's such a lucky girl, having a loving father... Had you been mine, perhaps we would not be in such a situation, but I suppose you don't care about my feelings... That being said, the Port Mafia wishes you a pleasant journey in the afterlife...!"

One, two and three bullets in his chest. He died immediately, without a sound, and I had accomplished my duty. I exhaled and put my gun into the holster before turning toward the men escorting me. They stayed speechless as I walked past them, only to glance at them over my shoulder.

"Are you going to gawk at that dead body the entire day?" I asked curtly "We have other tasks, let's not waste any more time there."

There was another traitor who had joined another organisation and whose name was on the list of people I had to execute this day. I hoped he would not run away in a street without a sidewalk — having to break their jaw like this was quite exhausting for my body.

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[alarriefantasy]

                                 Halloween Fic Rec 2019

Demon

Trade Mistakes by ifancylou, Taayjaay

Words: 3k

Harry summons a crossroads demon without realizing that he'd be giving up his soul in exchange for the deal. He offers the demon something a little different instead.

Demons by CarlyLovesLarry

Words: 4k

or where Harry is a demon and Louis is a hunter, and Harry fuck Louis into oblivion  

Sealed With A Kiss by ty_madison

Words: 6k

Harry has been having dreams about a boy, every night since he turned sixteen and everytime he has opened his eyes in the past the boy has disappeared. But now he is awake, the boy is here and he has a deal to make with the innocent Harry.

Paper Planes by cathedralhearts

Words: 7k

Louis sold his soul to the Devil when he was sixteen, tear-stained and miserable, grief wracking his body as the doctors told him his mother had days to live. Lucifer prefers to go by the name Harry, wears Louis’ soul around his neck as a pendant, and spends the next five years following him around.

Shadow Holding Me Hostage by scribblewrite

Words: 26k

Harry's a demon, basically the king of hell and the source of all evil, and he needs an heir. Louis's a normal human, unsuspecting of what's in store for him.

The Devil's Angel by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies

Words: 86k

Ezekiel 28:13 - For Lucifer has been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was his covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of his tabrets and of his pipes was prepared in him in the day that he was created. 

Fantasy/Supernatural

got me losing every breath (i'm latching onto you) by kissingiscool

Words: 14k

(or an au where louis is a fairy with a fear of thunderstorms and a talent of knitting and harry is a vet with three cats and a lot of love.)

A Love So True You Don't Have To Be Afraid by homosociallyyours

Words: 14k

In a world long ago but not so far away, where true love is valued above all else, Louis and Harry have already found one another. Their lives are shaken by the arrival of Simon, whose heart is more than a bit shit, and who longs to sow unhappiness.

When Louis is changed into a dragon and Harry is the knight meant to vanquish him, it would appear that Simon has succeeded. But love wins, every time.

Waiting For Someone Who Needs Me by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 17k

AU: Harry is a genie, and Louis doesn't think he needs anything.

The Prince Of Light by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 35k

Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.

When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.

Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.

like cabbages and kings by you_explode

Words: 60k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

there's no fair in farewell by we_are_the_same

Words: 218k

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Ghost

The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by HelloAmHere

Words: 31k

OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

Close to Nowhere by angelichl

Words: 34k

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

you look so good in blue by patdkitten

Words: 20k

Or: Harry Styles hears about a perfect flat from his roommate Zayn's boyfriends and decides to sign the lease. The only problem is: the flat has a reputation for being haunted. It certainly doesn't help that Harry's cat is seeing things as soon as they move in...

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria

Words: 40k

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

Tied to Fate by littlelouishiccups

Words: 52k

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Words: 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process

Halloween Themed

Trick-or-Treat (Cheer Up) by writingstylinson 

Words: 2k

Louis Tomlinson is the single father of a little girl named Finnley, and they’ve been living in Holmes Chapel for a year. This Halloween is the first one they will be celebrating without Louis’ younger siblings or his own mother. It’s because of this that his daughter, who is usually outgoing and fearless, starts to have some worries about going trick-or-treating alone with her father.

Then Louis comes up with the perfect solution.

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene by allwaswell16

Words: 2k

When Louis takes his son trick-or-treating in a stormtrooper costume, little does he know by the end of the night he will end up gaining a Luke Skywalker, a Chewbacca, and a Rey. He doesn't mind the additions, and if Rey's very hot dad wants to come along as well, he doesn't mind that too much either.

this kitten's got your tongue tied in knots by ballsdeepinjesus

Words: 3k

[it's halloween, harry is a kitten in a tree and louis is a (fake) firefighter.]

A gold and green Halloween by Tita

Words: 8k

Harry and Louis are strangers who, dressed as Drarry, compete on a Halloween couple's costume contest. It's exactly as much of a mess as it sounds.

Black Cats Steal Hearts, Not Souls by SLD24

Words: 9k

Harry finds a kitten in a pumpkin patch the day before Halloween but it turns out not to be a kitten at all.

Horror

All The Songs That You Sing In The Dark by pukeandcry

Words: 10k

What happened was that first people got sick.

What happened after that was that they died.

But the worst thing was what happened after that. After they died, they came back.

The Skeleton Key by photo41

Words: 18k

Harry Styles, a good-natured nurse living in Manchester, quits his job at a hospice to work for Violet Winston, an elderly woman whose husband, Ben, is in poor health following a stroke.

When Harry begins to explore the couple's rundown mansion, he discovers strange artifacts and learns the house has a mysterious past. As he continues to investigate, he realizes that Violet is keeping a sinister secret about the cause of Ben's illness- and tries to convince the Winston's estate lawyer, Louis Tomlinson, that he really isn't going insane.

Loosely based off the movie of the same name.

Insane by prideinlou

Words: 20k

Or in which Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are two dim-witted, drunk teenage boys that take a Halloween night dare too far, and end up in a life or death situation in the clutches of a haunted mental asylum.

Will they make it out alive... or will they go insane?

Mermaid

seaside improvisation by tinyweirdloves

Words: 6k

[harry is a mermaid who has lost his tail and he lives in louis's bathtub for a month.]

at least as deep as the pacific ocean (i wanna be yours) by writtensoul 

Words: 9k

louis is the very entitled prince of the seven seas!! harry is a goofy sailor boy!!! a lot of hijinks ensue involving slippery mermaid tails and happy fun little sea creatures!!

Define Dancing by asphodelknox 

Words: 20k

Death has a way of making certain things crystal clear. After Jay’s death, Louis returns to the summer cottage he always considered home. Unbeknownst to him, he’s also returning to the merman who has been his best friend through everything and finds that maybe there’s a chance for more.

Don't Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero

Words: 28k

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

Still Deep In Us by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 41k

AU. The village Harry has called home his entire life sits on six shaky legs, held aloft from the ocean which claimed the entire world twenty years ago. Harry's just a grieving tinkerer trying to do his best, and Louis is a mermaid that ruins The Village's delicate balance of power (and perhaps, just maybe, wins the heart of a boy).

Pirates

Captain Harry Styles... And The Faerie by spaceboyharry

Words: 8k

“You have today been defeated. Remember this forever as the day you were bested by Captain Harry Styles.” Louis zoomed past, shouting “AND THE FAERIE!” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “And the bloody faerie.”

must be something in the water by hattalove

Words: 3k

They all remember, somewhere deep down, why they gave up everything they had for the Mermaid.

The last vestiges of kindness and bravery and everything that is good in the world are on board that ship. Louis’s heart is on it, moored by some nameless jetty.

In Your Black Heart (Is Where You'll Find Me) by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 35k

Louis Tomlinson has been lying for five years. His crew sees him as a pirate, a Captain, and an alpha; only two of those are the truth. He was content to let the illusion go on forever, but an omega named Harry Styles just had to join his crew and get his warm-vanilla stink all over Louis' best laid plans.Or: the story of The Captain and The Carpenter.

Si Pudiera Volar by messofgorgeouschaos

Words: 68k

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

Vampire

Call Me the End of Your World by captainsftlouis

Words: 3k

or, the vampire AU where Louis is addicted to vampire venom, and Harry is addicted to Louis.

Waiting On You: A Christmas Drabble by emma1234

Words: 5k

On their first Christmas Eve as a couple, Louis and Harry decide it would be a great idea to exchange one special gift with one another to mark a new tradition. Of course, things never go as smoothly as they planned.

I Wanna Do Bad Things With You by lesbianphrodite

Words: 7k

Harry goes to his favorite pub with the intention to drink and feel bad for himself after a terrible break-up. Instead, he ends up hitting it off with a handsome vampire.

Forever And Always by jacaranda_bloom 

Words: 25k

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

we should open up (before it's all too much) by disgruntledkittenface

Words: 43k

Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

Then he meets Louis.

For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry by amomentoflove

Words: 49k

Harry is cold. His bones ache. Every movement draws a whimper from his cracked lips. The stone underneath him is practically like ice. He’s numb, but can clearly feel the sharp pains on his neck every timeHe visits him. Below the icy cold, the achy bones, and the pain on his neck, Harry Styles is pissed. There’s a fire burning in his mind and the anger for the man who keeps him imprisoned is the fuel. He despises him, the man who feeds from him and is a daily reminder that Harry’s suffering won’t end. The man who keeps Harry so weak that he can barely move most days. Harry’s waiting for the day when his owner will go too far and finally kill him. Death must be better than this cold hell he is in.

It won’t happen, though. He has a way of keeping Harry’s heart beating. So for now, all Harry can do is wait for death to come.

He’s been waiting for years.

Witches

what's inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) by suspendrs

Words: 3k

Or, Harry's a witch who likes to pretend he's a human pretending he's a witch, and Louis's the human in a not-so-clever costume that keeps catching his eye.

A Kind Of Magic by mellagreens

Words: 12k

Louis feels the urge to tell Harry he's in love with him.

Spellbound by lovelarry10

Words: 22k

Louis’ a shifter. Harry’s a witch. The only problem is, they’re hiding those things from each other.Will they be able to keep their secrets hidden at the most spooky time of year?

Call It True by abrighteryellow

Words: 48k

With dreams of being a successful novelist, Harry’s been working so hard that he almost doesn’t notice the smoothie shop that just opened down the street. But he can’t miss the mysterious, irresistible boy who works there, nor the strange but entirely positive effect his drinks seem to have. Harry needs to know what’s going on and he wants to get close to Louis, though not necessarily in that order.

A Spell and A Spark by dinosaursmate

Words: 73k

Louis is a teenage witch, living and attending university among mortals. He has to keep his secret whilst studying on both his degree and his witch's licence. His friends don't suspect a thing, even as spell after spell goes awry.

Our Place By The Moon by PearlyDewdrops

Words: 108k/WIP

Or: a late 90's urban fantasy AU in which Louis wants to befriend the strange boy next door, Harry is just trying to keep his family together, and falling in love is most inconvenient for a witch that may have accidentally reignited a centuries old curseꟷone that kinda messes with that.

[cbraxs]

Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 9

Time stood still as Izzy stared at the ghost in front of her. A million thoughts and feelings rumbled around in her chest like a rock inside a tumble machine. The little girl—her, she realized— and her mother looked at Izzy obliviously. But there was a split-second of shock on her mom’s face as she glanced from Izzy to The Book.

Just as quickly, her mother composed herself and fixed Izzy with a polite smile. “Oh, hello. Didn’t mean to bother you. Enjoying your trip?”

“I, uh, no, I mean, y-you you...”

Nice, Izzy. Real nice.

Her mother didn’t notice Izzy’s lack of composure. “Do you mind taking a picture of me and my little girl? It’s her first time in Ptolemaic Egypt.”

Izzy noticed that her voice caught on her, as if she caught herself from saying something else.

She nodded mechanically and took the cheap disposable camera from her past self.

Izzy looked back at her mother, wondering if she recognized her. Izzy was certain that she heard her call her “mom”, but she stood there, regarding Izzy like a total stranger. Maybe her shock was from seeing another time warper here? Still, her mom looking at her like she didn’t know her made Izzy’s heart ache.

Her mom picked up Baby Izzy, who giggled as she was lifted into the air. Izzy aimed the camera at mother and daughter. Seeing them through the viewfinder should have lent a degree of separation from Izzy and the situation, but it just made it all the more surreal.

As Izzy snapped the picture, Baby Izzy pointed up at the sky in amazement. “Look, Mama!”

Izzy looked to see a ball of light streaking its way across the bright blue sky. Was it green? It disappeared in a flash before she could get a good look.

“A shooting star,” her mother said. “Make a wish, Isadora.”

Izzy had to remind herself that her mother wasn’t speaking to her. Well, not the her her in the present. Past tense her in the past. Jeez, this was confusion.

Baby Izzy clasped her hands and shut her eyes so tight her it made her nose wrinkle. Izzy wished she could remember what she wished for.

“Thank you,” her mother said, flashing her with a bright smile that made Izzy’s heart sink even further. “Enjoy the rest of your trip. C’mon, Malpua. Let’s go see the sphinx before we have to go back to Daddy.”

Baby Izzy waved goodbye as she walked off hand-in-hand with her mother. Watching them go, Izzy felt like someone had tied her stomach into a hundred knots. A dozen emotions gripped at her heart and clogged her throat: sadness, confusion, anger, guilt. Especially guilt. It felt like someone rammed an ice pick into her chest, and the cold was spreading throughout her being like cracks in a glass.

She’d been so focused on finding her dad, she’d never thought about saving Mom. Izzy had years to come to terms with her life without her mom, but now, after seeing her again after so long, the idea of going back and stopping that accident—

No. No, no, no, no, no. No. Thinking about that would drive Izzy nuts. Her dad’s warning about not changing the past came back to her. He was right. Right now, she had to put the thought of rescuing her mom to the side and focus on finding her dad. She had to. She had to.

Izzy went to pick The Book back up, but stopped when she realized that she still had the camera. She had to return it. If she didn’t, that cause problems with the spacetime continuum, right? And since she was returning the camera, maybe she could at least talk to her mom a little while longer? She had The Book, and instructions on how to get back home. It wasn’t like she was in any immediate danger.

She stared longingly at her mother’s retreating form, ignoring the voice inside her head that nagged her to back to her friends ASAP. She looked at The Book one last time before scooping it up and deciding to follow her mom.

~*~

Joe paced back and forth in Izzy’s living room and tried not to freak out (with mixed results).

Izzy could have been anywhere and anywhen, stuck someplace in time without anyone watching her back. Whenever Joe warped in the past, he was always with friends, Anna, or the girls. He always had someone to look out for him so even in the worst of times he had someone he could rely on. If things went south, both Izzy and The Book could be in danger.

“Think, guys, think. There’s gotta be something we can do to get her back.”

“There's not much we can do,” Sam said, slumping on the breakfast bar table. “Izzy has The Book, there’s no way we can help her, much less get to her.”

Fred turned to Sam. “Didn’t your grandpa Dima give you that pocket watch that Samantha has? Can’t we use that?”

Sam shook his head. “It just a normal pocket watch now. And it’s not like I would even know where to begin turning it into a time travel device.”

Not to mention even if Sam could do that, it wouldn’t help them find out where and when she went, but Joe was too worried to bother pointing that out.

“Well, what about your uncle?” Fred asked Joe. “He’s gotta be able to help us out.”

Joe stopped in his tracks and dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll try his home phone.”

He dialed and waited. Just as he thought, his uncle wasn’t home. He left a message on the answering machine and sat back down at the breakfast bar.

Joe clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to work out his nerves. He hated feeling powerless and unable to help his friends, but there was nothing the three of them could do. Without The Book, they had no way of contacting the girls for help. Without The Book, they were three helpless kids whose friend went missing. All he could do is hope Izzy made it back home with her and The Book intact.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Joe said, mostly to himself. “She can handle herself.”

~*~

Izzy tried not to feel like a creepy voyeur as she watched her Mom and Baby self from behind the Sphinx’s paw (the camera in her hand didn’t help matters).

Baby Izzy marveled at the Great Sphinx of Giza as her mom told how it was built. Present Izzy didn’t remember much about this little trip, so she got to see The Sphinx for the first time.

The monument still had his nose and his braided beard intact, and even with the paint mostly faded, there were still remnants bright red, yellow, and blue pigment. Izzy was used to seeing it in textbooks and on TV as crumbly, unpainted bedrock, that seeing it unweathered was jarring, like coming home after a trip to see that your room was cleaned.

Even so, her attention wasn’t really focussed on the Sphinx. It was on her mother.

No one would ever mistake Izzy for her mother. Mom was a stunning beauty. Her features were sharper, her skin a lighter olive color than Izzy’s medium brown. They both shared brown hair, but her mother’s was warmer and richer, like dark chocolate.

One of the byproducts of being biracial was getting to look like both of your parent and neither of them at the same time. She wasn’t as dark as her dad (who was black) and she wasn’t as light as her mother (who was of Indian and Chinese descent). Don’t even ask her where her green eyes came from.

She remembered how kids in elementary school would make fun of her: calling her ugly or adopted or whatever. She’d disregarded those childish taunts years ago and never took them seriously. Well, she tried not to take them seriously. Seeing how little she resembled her mother, even after all these years, it made Izzy feel… not bad, necessarily, just odd. She wondered if that made coming to terms with her mother’s death easier on her dad.

She shook these thoughts out of her head and tried to focus. For years, she thought about speaking to her mom one last time; all the things she wanted to say, the questions she had. But at that moment, she was frozen by the panicky swarm of moths frenzying in her chest.

Izzy took a deep breath. It shouldn’t be that hard. All she had to do was walk up to her and say, “Hi, I’m Izzy, your daughter from the future where you’ve been dead for several years, oh, and by the way, dad’s been gone for weeks, but don’t ask me where he went. I’ve got no idea going on, please help me, how are you?”

… okay…  so this was going to be way harder than she’d previously thought.

She sunk to the ground, her back resting against the Sphinx’s paw. What was she even doing? Meeting dead relatives must be against some sort of time law or something, right? And even if it wasn’t, being here could nothave been good for her emotional health. Seeing her mom alive tore opened old scars. She should’ve warped home when she had the chance.

Izzy was considering leaving the camera on the Sphinx’s paw for her mom to find when suddenly, there was a whirring noise followed by a flash of golden light on the other side of the Sphinx.

Her mother gasped. She said, her voice low and guarded, “What are you doing here?”

“Really, Dulari?” said another voice— a man. “Is that any way to greet an old friend? I remember you being so much more polite.”

Izzy frowned. She was certain she’d never heard the other voice before. Still, there was something nagging her in the back of her mind, telling her this voice was familiar. It was in the way he talked, how he pronounced his words. Dread bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

She risked a look over the Sphinx’s paw to see the man who’d suddenly appeared, and nearly screamed.

“You haven’t answered my question, Jack,” Izzy’s mother said. “What are you doing out of jail?”

Izzy dropped back behind the Sphinx's paw, clutching The Book to her chest. This was not good, this was not good at all. She’d recognized Mad Jack instantly. He was older than when she saw him at the museum, but it was no doubt the same man, with the same unruly hair, and dark eyes, but instead of a janitor uniform, he wore a black cloak over a suit. He carried a tall silver cane topped with a glowing green hourglass.

Did he see her? She waited to be called out and exposed, but Mad Jack kept talking as if he hadn’t noticed her.

“As it happens,” she heard Mad Jack say, “I am on parole for good behavior.”

A derisive laugh from her mom. “Funny.”

“It’s the honest truth. I am a changed man.”

Slowly, Izzy chanced to peak over again. Her mom had placed herself between Baby Izzy and Mad Jack, a polite but insincere smile stretched across her face. It was clear she was putting on a cordial act for Baby Izzy, trying not to scare her.

Baby Izzy looked confusedly between her mother and Mad Jack. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “W-what’s wrong, Mommy?”

Mom’s eyes immediately softened at her daughter. She tentatively glanced at Mad Jack before smiling and crouching to Baby Izzy’s eye level. “It’s nothing, Malpua. Why don’t you go play by the Sphinx’s tail. Build me a pretty sand castle.”

Her hands glowed green with the aura of magic. When it died, she was holding a shovel and pail. Without hesitation, Baby Izzy grabbed them and skipped away.

Mad Jack watched her happily dig into the sand, leering in disgust as if she was a walking wad of gum. “What is that?”

He said “that” like one might say cockroach or math homework.

Her mom stood, her glare back tenfold. “That is my daughter, Jack.”

“Your...” he looked from mother and daughter in disbelief before his face settled back on disgust. “It doesn’t look a thing like you.”

Rage flashed in Mom’s eyes. Izzy was shocked; she’d never seen her mother so angry before.

Her mom sighed and crossed her arms. “‘A changed man’, huh? You see why I find that so hard to believe?”

“Is this about what happened to that foolish brother of mine?”

“After what you did to Joe, you have the nerve to insult—”

Mad Jack huffed indignantly like a spoiled child. “Oh, for the last time, I did not kill my brother! He got himself killed.”

“Protecting The Book  from you!”

“Precisely! If that useless fool would’ve done what he was told, he’d be alive and The Book wouldn’t be missing.”

Izzy’s mind reeled. That was a lot to take in at once. They were obviously talking about Joe’s uncle. They referred to him as being dead, but he couldn’t have been. Joe talked about his uncle all the in the present tense and never once mentioned him being deceased, but they clearly believed he was. Not only that, but The Book was apparently missing, too.

She didn’t understand what was going on, or what to make of this, or why her mom was still giving Mad Jack the time of day, but her mother had a handle on the situation. She seemed more annoyed than fearful by Mad Jack’s sudden appearance.

Izzy needed to leave. The faster she warped home, the safer she’d be.

But she couldn’t bring herself to move. She knew this is the day. The memory was still hazy, but she recognized this as the day her mother warned her about Mad Jack. She still had so many questions, none of which would be answers if she warped now. She had to know what happened, why Mad Jack was here, and what he wanted from her mom.

So she stayed put, crouched behind the Sphinx. As Izzy eavesdropped, she silently flipped to the transporter page. In case things went south she would need a quick escape.

Her mother sighed again, bringing Izzy out of her thoughts. “We’re going in circles, Jack. Tell me what do you want. I know you’re not here for a friendly visit.”

Mad Jack stood straight and adjusted himself. “Very well. I’ll get right to the point. I need your help.”

Her mom cocked a brow. “With what exactly?”

“With The Book  missing, there is a power vacuum in the universe that needs to be filled. I propose we should the ones to fill it.”

“You mean—”

“We make a new Book .”

Make a new Book ? Was that even possible? Izzy guessed it had to be, otherwise The Book  wouldn’t exist in the first place, but something told her that the amount of magic needed to make something so powerful wasn’t as easy Mad Jack made it seem.

Magic operated on equal exchange. In order to do anything, you needed to sacrifice something in return, be it ingredients or energy. Doing something like levitating a basketball required next to no energy since carrying a basket ball was something she could do with no effort, but complicated spells always tended to make Izzy tired and hungry. She couldn’t fathom the amount of energy it would take to create something like The Book. It wasn’t just a time machine, it was all of time and space contained in a single book. The amount of magic needed to create something like that must be absolutely astronomical.

“We’ll need additional help,” Mad Jack went on. “I believe da Vinci may be the only man in history up to the task.”

“Da Vinci?’ Mom asked incredulously. “And how do you plan to get to him? Em timeblocked you from the entire Renaissance.”

A dismissive wave of his hand. “Timeblocks? Bah! You know as well as I that those are, at best, a Band-Aid solution against any skilled warper. All I need is to try warping to every available day until I find the gap to exploit.”

“The definition of insanity…” her mom muttered and rubbed her temples. “So let me get this straight: after all the times you’ve lied, cheated, and manipulated me and, well, everyone you’ve ever met, you want me to forget all that? Leave my family and my life behind to gallivant across time with you for your evil little project? You want me to siphon a deadly amount of energy so you get to be the king of everyone and everything forever and ever? Is that about right, Jack?”

Mad Jack’s eye twitched, but he exhaled and tried to act calm. “I promise you won’t have to make that sacrifice, Dulari. I believe I’ve found away to get the energy we need without any death—”

“No, no, no. Stop. Just stop. Even if I believed you, I wouldn’t help you.”

“Dulari—”

Mad Jack went to grab her by the shoulder, but her mom seized his hand before she could.

She glowered at Mad Jack, the hand holding his wrist shaking. “You. Don’t. Touch. Me. Ever. Ever.” She threw his hand down.

Mad Jack rubbed his wrist, but otherwise looked unperturbed by her actions. He stared at her, unimpressed. “Answer me this one thing. This little domestic life of yours,” a sideways glance at Baby Izzy, “is it enough for you?”

“I’m not even going to entertain–”

“You were—are— Dulari the Daring, Warp Witch extraordinaire. I saw you go toe-to-toe with Black Beard himself. You once single-handedly liberated smuggled artifacts of Thonis from Bonefat’s crew and landed a Lockheed Vega on an island in the Bermuda triangle in the middle of a hurricane.

“Now what are you up to? Making lunches and changing diapers? Surely you must miss the adventure? That is what I’m offering you: the life of adventure you worked so hard to get. The life of adventure I know you crave.”

Her mother looked at him, her expression unreadable. Izzy feared for a moment her Mom might be swayed by Mad Jack speech.

But then she laughed harshly without any joy. “You’re forgetting something, Jack.” She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You were the reason I was on the Queen Ann’s Revenge. I was stopping you from stealing documents that would lead to events that would spiral out of control and cause the Civil War to last three times as long.”

Mad Jack frowned. He looked like he wanted to counter her point, but her mom went on.

May I also remind you that you,” she jabbed her finger into his chest, “were also a part of Bonefat’s little scumbag crew. And I never got to thank you for that trip to Bermuda Triangle. It was you who banished me there when I wouldn’t kowtow to you anymore! Those weren’t great accomplishments and feats, that was me making up for—”

She took a shaky breath before continuing. “You cannot manipulate me like this anymore. If you think offering me the chance to go back to being your little portable battery who gets to clean up after you is going to make me want to abandon my family, you’re crazier than I thought.”

Anger flared in Mad Jack’s eyes. He gripped his cane so tight his knuckles turned pale. “You haven’t seen crazy.”

The hourglass on his cane glowed blindingly bright, and Izzy’s heart went into overdrive. She recognized the energy emanating from the cane. The Book  still in hand and without thinking, she leapt over the Sphinx’s paw and ran at him. “Stop!”

She was ready to shove him, push him away, do anything to protect her mom from that psycho’s attack. There was a buzzing in her ears. Green lightning sparked from beside her and struck Mad Jack square in the chest. He sailed through the air and crash-landed a couple yards away, dirt flying in every direction.

Izzy barely noticed how heavy she was breathing as stared she at Mad Jack’s body embedded two feet into the ground. What was that? She brought a hand to her ears, fingers brushing against her earrings. A familiar warmth tingled at her fingertips. Magic.

Mom stared at her in utter shock. Her face jumped from surprised to panic as she looked from her to Baby Izzy to Mad Jack stirring, about to getting up.

Her mother fixed her with a stern look. “You need to leave right now.”

“B-but I—” Izzy stammered.

“Now!”

Her mom’s sharp look soften to a sweet smile as she addressed Baby Izzy, “Stay back, Malpua.”

She yanked off the necklace she wore. The gold grew and morphed, resembling the handle of a brief case. From the glowing green jewel, a curved blade shaped like a butcher’s knife formed, growing bright green with magic.

Izzy faltered, but did as she was told. She ripped through the pages to find the transporter page again. But as she found it, a million volts of electricity shot up her spine sending spasms upon painful spasms throughout her body. Her scream echoed in her ears. Her muscles locked up, and she collapsed into the sand, The Book  falling out of her hands.

Izzy’s heart stopped as Mad Jack stalked over to her, domineering, a nasty sneer on his face. There was a crazed look his eyes. His cane glowed violently hot. “How do you have that? Give it to me!” “No!” Her mother flew at Mad Jack, dagger drawn. Mad Jack brought his cane up in time to deflect the blade, but the force of her mother’s blow was enough to push the two of them back and outside of Izzy’s field of vision.

Izzy’s muscles jumped and twitched as she struggled to move. A million fire ants marched along her skin, sending jolts of lightning through her spine. The sound of combat mixed with bursts of magic raging on behind her was drowned out by the blood roaring in her ears.

It took her a moment to register the sobbing next to her. She managed to turn her head to see Baby Izzy in her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her tiny hands fisted Izzy’s shirt, trying to get her to up.

“P-please!” Baby Izzy begged. “Help Mama!”

It’s strange to watch yourself cry, Izzy thought, even if it was a much younger version of yourself. Her body was still shaking from Mad Jack’s spell, but she pushed on and, with effort, managed to stand on shaky legs and grab The Book.

“Hide behind the Sphinx,” Izzy told her past self, “and don’t come out unless that man is gone, okay?”

She tried to force a confident smile like her mom, but it probably looked more like she was having an awkward stroke. Nevertheless, Baby Izzy nodded and ran behind the statue.

Izzy turned her attention back to the battle. Mad Jack and her mother fought, sword against dagger. Mom slashed at Mad Jack with the ferocity of a tiger, rolling out of the way when he brought the blade of the sword—his cane in another setting— down on her and dodging energy blasts like they were dodge balls.

What Mad Jack lacked in speed he made up for in power. The heat of his sword vitrified parts of the sand he hit whenever he missed her mom with his blade.

She realized how stupid it was of her to stay instead of leaving immediately. What was she even thinking? She couldn’t help her mom. She couldn't even fight on their level. And she didn’t know any spells that could help in combat (even if there was a basketball around, it wouldn’t do much to help). She was utterly powerless.

Or was she?

She touched her still warm earrings with a hand. She was still confused about them, but an idea— a reckless, stupid idea— began to form. Was this even a good idea?

Her mother’s pained cry shattered her thoughts. She collapsed in a heap on the ground, unmoving.

Izzy no longer had time to consider whether it was a good idea or not. She tightened her grip on The Book and rushed at Mad Jack. She was twenty feet away, ten...

Mad Jack reared on her. “Not so fast!”

He shot a spell at her and she froze. Pins pricked at her skin, a green aura dancing around her.

Mad Jack stalked towards Izzy, staring at her quizzically, like she was a magic eye picture he couldn’t quite make out. He stopped himself from getting too close and snarled at her.

“You’re that girl from the museum. Aren’t you?”

Izzy didn’t answer, not that she would if she could. Her jaw felt like it was bolted shut with industrial screw. She narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on The Book  with her limited mobility.

Mad Jack made a flippant wave of his hand. “No matter. You have something that belongs to me!”

To Izzy’s surprise, Jack relinquished the spell on her. Izzy’s knees wobbled as she regained control of her body.

“I am going to give you one chance,” Mad Jack said. “Hand over The Book, no funny business, no tricks, or—” He aimed the cane at her chest. “—I’ll hit you with a spell that’ll have you spending the rest of eternity as a million molecules scattered across time and space!”

A lump formed in Izzy’s throat. There was no doubt in her mind he would with no hesitation.

At the same time, she couldn’t hand over The Book to him. She thought about what her mother said about Mad Jack stealing documents that would prolong the Civil War, and she shuddered. She couldn’t imagine the amount damage Mad Jack could do to history if he got his hands on The Book.

Her eyes flickered from the cane threatening to end her, to Mad Jack’s irritated face, to The Book in her arms, and she knew what she had to.

“I-I’m not going to throw it to you,” Izzy said, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. “I’ll set it down and back away. P-please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” Mad Jack said. “So long as you do what you are told like a good little warp runt.”

Izzy glowered at him, but she did as she was told. She bent to place The Book  on the ground...

...then sprung forward, barreling straight at Mad Jack, Book still in hand. Magic sparked from her earrings. Mad Jack unleashed a bolt of energy at her. The Book  absorbed the brunt of the attack, but it was still enough to send her flying.

She landed hard on her back, plumes dust settling around her. The Book glitched and jump in her arms. Her head spun as she struggled to her feet and spat out sand.

Unfortunately, Mad Jack was still up. Smoke curled from his cloak. His monocle was popped, and his eyes dark with rage. “You better hope that stunt of yours didn’t damage The Book you little brat!—”

Mad Jack paused. A green light surrounded his body. Her mom stepped out from behind him, her arm outstretched to maintain the spell. Beads of sweat dripped down her face. Her hair was disheveled and there were scratches all over her face and arms, but Izzy was relieved to see she was okay.

With her free hand, her mom pulled out a silver pocket watch. She pressed the face of the watch, and a beam of yellow light shot at him, shrinking his form to the size of a baseball before floating away into the sky and disappearing in a pop!

Once he’d vanished, her mom sighed and slumped over, clutching her shoulder and grimacing. There was a smoldering hole where her clothes had burned away.

“Mama!”

Baby Izzy ran from behind the Sphinx towards her mother. Mom stopped holding her shoulder and hid her pained face behind a strained but serene smile. Her short blade turned back into a necklace, and she put it back on before kneeling to hug Baby Izzy.

Izzy watched in silence as Baby Izzy trembled and babbled incoherently to her mom, who in turned smoothed her hair and murmured comfortingly to her daughter.

Finally, the two pulled apart. Izzy’s mom wiped her baby’s tears and spoke softly: “Listen to me, Isadora. Don’t trust the madman with the monocle. He is dangerous, Malpua. You see him, you run. Anywhere. Any when. And you don’t ever, ever let him get you. Ever.”

Baby Izzy nodded, tears still spilling from her eyes. The image of them blurred, and Izzy realized her eyes were watering. She wiped her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, but there was a still a heaviness in her chest.

“I hope you know how to use that thing.”

Izzy nearly dropped The Book. She was so wrapped up in her jumbled thoughts, she barely noticed her mom was standing in front of her, carrying Baby Izzy on her hip.

“I, uh, well… kinda?”

“Kinda, huh?” She laughed. “Kinda is good enough. You need to go before he comes back. I’m not sure how you have it, but you need to keep The Book safe. What you have in your hands is the most powerful and potentially destructive item in the entire universe. It is incredibly important that it never falls into the hands of the monsters who would abuse it.”

And with that, she pulled up her pocket watch again, ready to warp away.

“Wait!” Izzy cried.

Her mom froze and looked at her, surprised. Izzy didn’t know what came over her. She’d already overstayed her welcome, and she didn’t want to run into Mad Jack again. But… there was something she needed to know.

Izzy rubbed her arm, feeling self-conscious. “Do you… do you know who I am?”

Her mom’s stunned face melted into a warm smile. With her free hand cupped Izzy’s cheek, and Izzy nearly burst into tears. She brought her hands to rest on her mother’s. So many things she wanted to tell her rushed to her lips all at once, leaving her tongue-tied.

Before she could put together a coherent thought, a yellow portal unraveled besides them. Izzy heartbeat hitched, afraid it was Mad Jack coming back for them. Her entire body hummed like every atom in her was vibrating. But it wasn’t fear doing that to her. It was magic.

Suddenly, a similar yellow energy enclosed around her. Before she was whisked away back to her time, she caught a glimpse of the man that warped there.

It wasn’t Mad Jack.

~*~

“I don’t think Izzy will appreciate you digging a trench in her house.”

Joe rolled his eyes at Fred’s remark but sat back at his stool. Waiting around and doing nothing made minutes feel like hours.

Sam cleaned his glasses for the umpteenth time. “There’s no point in stressing ourselves out. Worrying isn’t going to bring her back sooner.”

Just then, glowing yellow portal spiraled to life next to them, revealing Izzy. She staggered on her legs and collapsed on her knees.

Sam blinked. “I stand corrected.”

Joe jumped, Sam and Fred right behind him, and help her stand. “Izzy! Are you okay?”

“Where did you go?” Sam asked next.

“And why are you covered in sand?” Fred asked.

Izzy took a ragged breath, shutting down the rest of their questions. On top of being covered in dirt, she was covered in cuts. One of her pigtails was undone. There was a haunted look in her watery eyes, like whatever happened on her warp must have freaked her out.

“Sorry, sorry,” Joe said, backing off. “We shouldn’t have all jumped on you like that.”

Izzy swallowed. “It’s okay, guys. I...” She handed The Book  back to Joe. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your Book.”

Joe frowned. She was worried about that? Of course The Book was important, but so was her safety. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Joe was relieved to see her smile, a true smile that eased away the pained lines etched on her face.

Behind him, Sam cleared his throat. “I think he means that we’re just glad you’re okay.”

Joe scratched the back of his head. “Right. That’s what I said.”

Fred snorted. “Anyway, you wanna explain what the heck happened? Looks like you got a story.”

Izzy laughed, but it sounded hollow and bitter. She dusted off some sand on her shirt. Tears swelled in her eyes but didn’t fall. “Yeah, that’s… that’s one way to say it, I guess.”

Joe placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to tell us if it’s too much.”

“No, I do, really I... I   need a moment. Are there any Brownies of Coping left?”

Surprisingly, Fred hadn’t scarfed all the brownies down yet. They all sat around the breakfast bar as Izzy began to tell everything that happened to her from the beginning.

~*~

Anthony J. Shabazz sat at Mabel’s diner— a rest stop at the end of time– and tried not to reignite. Smoke billowed from his clothes and skin, and he was sure embers stilled smoldered in his hair. His latest brush with death in a gladiator stadium left him particularly famished and, thankfully, Mabel’s served their famous waffles all the time.

The diner wasn’t too crowded. There were a couple of warpers in booths, all wearing attire from ancient to modern to futuristic. Some he recognized, like Napoleon and Amelia Earhart, but most were strangers. Stars and galaxies glimmered outside, but his attention was on the notes and clues he’s gathered on Mad Jack so far.

The timeblocks placed on Jack over the years made it harder to track him, but Anthony had hoped certain precautionary measures he placed on himself would keep Mad Jack from being able to sense him. But with all the time-hopping Jack did, Anthony felt like he might as well have slapped blaring sirens and flashing lights to his head before he went after Jack.

From medieval England, to Feudal Japan, to ancient Rome, to even the nineteen-thirties, Mad Jack would pop in and steal something of magical value and leave just as quickly. Outside of using the Lapis Manalis to taunt him a few weeks ago with that storm (he knew he shouldn’t have told Jack thunderstorms made him sneezy), he hadn’t used or traded or bartered with any of them. Anthony would have dismissed this as typical Mad Jack shenanigans: stealing stuff just because he could and he wanted to. But there was something about all of this Anthony was struggling to stitch together.

“You look like you’ve been through Hell, Shabazz.”

Anthony blinked and looked to see an old friend. A fair-skinned woman in a pantsuit and colorful headscarf stood in next of him. She licked her fingers and put out a flame still smoldering in his hair.

“Thanks, Mihrimah,” Anthony said with a wry smile.

She slid into the booth across from him and sat, back erect and hands clasped. Even in a diner, she exuded an unmistakable regal air around her. “What happened?”

“Rome happened to me.”

Mihrimah cringed. “What is this, the fifth—no sixth— time this happened? You know you have the worst luck in Rome.”

Anthony shrugged and took a swig of his coffee. “Are you stalking me, Em?”

She gave him a look. “Clearly someone needs to keep tabs on you. Just because you don’t work with me anymore doesn’t mean I won't check up on you. How’s the hunt going?”

Anthony groaned and ran a hand over his face.

“I’m guessing not well?”

Anthony massaged his brow. “I traced and retraced Mad Jack’s steps a hundred time over, but I don’t see what his endgoal is. I don’t get how this relates to Isadora.”

Mihrimah leaned forward and cupped his hand. “I can assign my agents to this case. You can go home and be with your daughter. You don’t have to be the one to do this.”

That was so tempting. He thought about turning this case over to Mihrimah and her agents at least a dozen times a week. Every day he thought about Isadora, how lonely she must be; how confused she must be. Even though he was doing this all for her sake, it made him feel guilty to leave his daughter behind again as he searched for answers.

Then he thought about Mad Jack, and that strengthened his resolve.

“Isadora is my child,” Anthony said, his eyes trained on his coffee. “My only living family. I can’t standby and let others handle this. He went after my wife before. There is no way on earth I’ll let Mad Jack lay a hand on my daughter. He needs to be stopped once and for all. I’ve got to do this.”

Mihrimah nodded and didn’t try to argue, instead fixing him with a grim look. Anthony knew her long enough to know that look meant she was hiding something from him, but he also knew her well enough to know that whatever she was hiding, she wasn’t about to share. He’d have an easier job prying secrets from a cuttlefish.

“Alright,” Mihrimah said finally. “But I worry about her safety.”

He took another sip of his coffee then said, “As long as she has those earrings and does what she was told, Isadora will be completely safe. And as long as she doesn’t try to contact me, she’ll—”

An electric jolt shot through Anthony’s spine to his head, shocking his brain like a cattle prod. He muffled a pained groan, clenching his coffee mug hard enough to nearly shatter the ceramic.

Oh no.

Mihrimah frowned. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“T-the coffee,” Anthony lied. He dabbed spilled coffee off of his notes with a napkin. “It was too hot. Burned my tongue.”

He hoped Mihrimah hadn’t noticed him gritting his teeth.

Just then, the robo-waitress came by to top off his coffee, saving him from being asked any more questions. She offered Mihrimah a cup, but she waved it away, a small look of distaste on her face.

“I never did care for this place,”  Mihrimah said. “The food is delicious, but the prices are extortion.”

Anthony nodded, half-listening. He tried to ignore his throbbing head.

Mihrimah frowned, her dark, harlequin eyes studying him intensely. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He tried to blink away the pulsing behind his eyes and forced a smile. “It was only a light scalding. I’ve endured hotter circumstances than that.”

Her expression was hard to decipher. Mihrimah had an infamous cock-and-bull detector. Fortunately, an alarm on her work phone went off. She pulled out her phone and frowned at the screen.

“Duty calls. I’ve got to run.” She clicked a button. It morphed into a black pocket watch decorated with intricate designs etched along the front and sides. The face hummed with a purple light. “Be careful out there, alright?”

“You worry too much, Em. I’ll be fine.”

She smiled softly before disappearing in a purple glow.

As soon as she was gone, Anthony’s shoulders sagged and he let out a groan of pain he was holding back. He knew trusting Joe was iffy. Not that his old friend was untrustworthy, but he had a tendency to be pretty flighty. Still, how could he have even let her try to warp, especially to him? Didn’t Joe understand the risk? At least now he knew that spell he placed on himself worked correctly.

As the pain subsided, the robo-waitress rolled by and placed the check on the table. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

“Please, allow me.”

Anthony looked in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. A dark-skinned man in a fez and a white tunic stood by his table. His outfit wasn’t the most surprising thing about him; most patrons at the diner wore bizarre clothes. The oddest thing about him was the wide grin on his face that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

The robo-waitress shrugged and rolled away. “Makes no difference to me.”

Anthony studied the strange new man. “Thank you, sir. But do I, uh—”

“Forgive me, I haven’t properly introduced myself. I am Hammonri, at your service.

The man sat across from him, and Anthony realized his eyes weren't just cold and distant. They were glazed over and blank, with nothing behind them, as if the man was sleepwalking. It sent shivers down Anthony’s spine.

“Well, thank you, Hammonri,” Anthony said. “That was quite kind of you.”

“No need to thank me. I am simply doing my master’s will. He sent me to, uh, personally deliver an invitation.”

He handed Anthony a mask. It was a domino mask, gold and green and angular. At the top of the mask was a blazing sun with a face carved on it.

Anthony frowned and turned the mask over in his hands. “And who exactly is your master?”

That unsettling grin grew wider. “Why, it’s an old friend.”

[eternallyyoungjustice]

Wherever the Winds Take You: Chapter 2

Author’s note:

Hey hey hey you beautiful people. Second chapter within the same month as the first, that’s a surprise.

So just so you all know, as per usual I’m super busy (school, work, extra-curriculars, social life, getting a semi-decent amount of sleep) however, as I’ve recently been loving this motivation train for writing this fic, I’m going to TRY to put a chapter out every 2 weeks. I would prefer to do more, but I only have a couple hours a day and I want to not only make each of these chapters good quality, but I also want to make them fairly long and I’m trying to edit them! So yea, bi-weekly seems like the best course of action. 

Anyways, enough with me. Thank you for reading WTWTY chapter 2, I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC, Young Justice and it’s places, stories, and characters all belong to DC Comics and the brilliant minds who created them.

Paris, France

April 16, 2008

2:46 CEST

The hospital was just like any other; blank white walls, the smell of disinfectant, the faint beeping of a heart monitor in the distance. Signs written in French were everywhere; showing directions, giving your regular everyday health registrations, maybe the occasional motivational poster. There was one area of the hospital however, that wasn't your typical everyday sight.

Standing by a window, looking in but trying to be stealthy about it, stood three adults. One, a dark-cloaked man whose cowl showed off two points shaped like bat-ears. Second, a woman with blonde hair wearing a leather jacket, a corset, and a pair of fishnet tights. Third, a male-humanoid robot with a bright red exterior, blue and gold cape, and a gold 'T’ shape on his chest. Had it not been nighttime, the three adults knew it wouldn't be safe for them where they were. But as it was nearly three in the morning, there was no danger for them in the hospital.

In the window in which they peeked, there was a young girl. Pale with freckles dusting her nose, big blue eyes, round cheeks, and long, light brown hair that fell in a messy, wavy, mess over her shoulders. She was awake, but extremely still. The only sign that she was even alive was the fact that she was sitting up on her own, her legs pulled up to her chest, and the tears that rolled down her cheeks. With her sat an older man in his mid-forties with greying brown hair, who sat in the chair beside the bed with his hand on the girl's back and a look of pained empathy on his face. There were also two boys, one older, and one younger than the girl.

The younger sat on the foot of the girl's bed, tears of his own flowing down as his hand lay on the girl's leg; and the older held a frown on his face as he leaned against the wall opposite the door, far away from the rest of the people.

“Are you sure this is the best time to do this?” The woman of the trio of adults asked. “She only just woke up and got the news.”

“The sooner we do, the better.” The cloaked man replied.

“She’s been through so much in just a few hours though.” The woman reasoned. “We could scare her off, or overwhelm her.”

“The emotions she feels now for what she's done are a good motivator to learn how to avoid it in the future. And the girl is on the spectrum, I have no doubt she's used to being overwhelmed.” The man in black countered.

Frustrated, the woman let out a deep sigh and rolled her eyes. She knew she ought to have been used to her co-worker’s coldness by now, but it still amazed her at times like this.

“What's your say Red?” The blonde asked, looking up at her robotic comrade. “This is all your call, not to mention your idea.”

The robot was silent for a moment, as if lost in thought, but then replied.

“Batman is correct.” The red robot answered. “Raw emotions act as human's main motivators, it would be the most logical conclusion to ask now while the events of today are fresh. However, it would be foolish to go in without any thought to her emotional state. We should act thoughtfully and with care.”

“Leave it to you two to act like this is some sort of battle plan.” The woman muttered under her breath, but then brushed some hair out of her face before walking towards the door, leading the trio into the room. The moment the three heroes walked into the hospital room, every single one of its inhabitants looked up at them.

“Madam Canary, Monsieurs Batman and…” The older man in the room greeted, addressing the heroes but falling short on the name of the robotic individual he did not know.

“So you’ve finally decided to stop creepily watching from outside like stalkers?” The oldest of the children asked, his shoulders being pushed back to appear bigger.

The two men's French accents were thick, but their English was still clear.

“Calvin, watch your manners.” The oldest of the family stated strictly to the boy before standing and addressing the three strangers. “I apologize for my son, he can be quite protective.”

“It’s no problem, Monsieur Leduc, we understand completely.” The blonde woman, Canary, said. “We...understand that this can’t be an easy time for any of you.”

“Markus is fine, Mademoiselle Canary.” The greying man said with a small smile. “And please don’t worry about us, we just appreciate the help you three have shown in this...incident.”

“Why are you still here?” The youngest of the boys asked, sitting so his body shielded the girl’s. “She’s awake and physically well, she hasn’t started another storm since she awoke.”

“Are you going to arrest her for something she had no control over?” The older boy asked. The girl’s body curled in tighter around itself. “If you try to take her away from us, you should know our lawyer’s on his way.”

“We’re not taking her away. But I’m glad you brought up control.” Canary explained, she turned to motion to her robotic coworker. “This is Red Tornado, another member of the Justice League.

I don’t believe any of you got the chance to officially meet during the debacle.”

“You’re...the one that flew with a tornado around your waist.” The girl spoke quietly. “You helped return the winds back to their normal paths after…” her voice fell away.

“Not a very creative name.” The oldest boy remarked.

“My name was given to me by my creator.” Red Tornado explained, before facing the small girl.

“But yes, I hold the ability to control the air around me. Much like yourself.”

“Except I can’t control the Winds.” The girl said, frowning. “They controlled me. I created a level 3 tornado while I was in a coma, completely unaware. Or at least...that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“For now you may have no control over your abilities, but that’s why we’re here.” Canary said.

“Red Tornado, and the rest of us, have discussed the possibility of him taking Evangelina on as a protege.” The cloaked man, Batman, said bluntly.

“Protege?” The girl and her father asked in surprise.

“I would be willing to...take her under my wing, in a sense. I could teach her how to use her new-found abilities, train her to control and use them, make sure an accident of this nature doesn’t happen again.” Red Tornado explained.

“And I would be happy to help with the emotional aspect.” Black Canary added. “Powers are often strongly connected to emotions and mental states, and as my colleague...has some lack of experience with that aspect, it would be my pleasure to use my psychological background to assist in and way.”

“So you’d be brainwashing her into becoming another one of your ‘sidekicks’ like we see on the news? Put her in danger and make her fight your battles for you? She’s only 14!” The eldest brother protested, taking a step towards the heroes.

“Calvin.” Lina called, her voice quiet in nature but it cut through the room like a dagger. Her eyes were so full of confusion and grief that just by looking at them, her family automatically were flooded with a sense of guilt and empathy. It was probably because of this that the three men let the young girl speak out.

As she turned to the heroes, she scanned all three of them carefully. As if looking for something, but nobody knew for what.

“If I were to become your protege,” Lina started, “I would gain control over....all of this, right?

I wouldn’t ever...do that again?”

Canary saw her cloaked colleague shoot her a sly look and she felt a strong wave of annoyance at the man.

“That is the idea.” Red Tornado replied.

“From your report, you have a very different type of connection to, the Winds, as you called it.

But we’d certainly work on ensuring that you don’t lose control again.” Lina watched the robotic man carefully.

“You mean you’ll try to make sure I don’t end up creating a major natural disaster and end up causing hundreds of dollars in property damage, endangering the lives in the area, again.” Lina spoke with a strict tone, full of self-loathing.

“That is the idea.” Red Tornado repeated.

“You all should know that you won’t have to worry about the property damage.” Batman said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. “Wayne Enterprises has offered to take care of it.”

“The American company? Why?” Leo asked, frowning.

He never got a response.

“You should know, before we even consider this in any way-” Markus spoke up, “-my daughter, she...has some special needs…”

“Papa!” Lina’s head whipped around, her face growing pink.

“We’re already aware of your...learning disability.” Canary informed Lina, stepping closer to her.

At the term ‘disability’, the younger woman tensed and fidgeted with a strand of her hair. “But, fortunately, Wayne Enterprises has come through again.”

“What do you mean? Came through how?” Lina asked.

“Wayne Enterprises has been testing a new product in their health and medicine division.

It’s a type of autism medication that works to completely inhibit all symptoms and conditions for a few hours. It’s experimental, but completely tested and 100% safe.” Canary explained.

“You’ll have to talk about it with your doctors before you are even handed a dosage, and we don’t suggest using it until you’re well enough, but after you've gotten the 'okay’ you're going to have to speak with the head scientist about any side effects and limitations, but-””So not only are you trying to brainwash her into becoming one of your...child lackies, but you’re putting experimental chemicals filled with God knows what into her body?”

Calvin’s interjection was full of hostility as he stepped closer to the trio of heroes.

“We understand your concern, but we assure you-””Oh don’t give me that formal, robotic, bullsh-”

“I’ll do it.”

The whole room froze as, once again, Lina’s voice cut through the noise. She was looking at the heroes, her eyes dancing between Black Canary and the robot.

“You’ll...what?” Calvin guffawed.

Lina looked up, making direct eye contact. “You say you’ll teach me to control my...powers so this will never happen again? I’ll do it.” Lina explained. “I’m not too sure about this medicine, but I’ll consider it once I get an unbiased medical professional's opinion on it. But if you seriously think that you can teach me to control the Winds, well, I don’t really see a good alternative.”

“Lina, mon chou-”“It's my decision.” Lina said strictly, the pain in her eyes morphing into determination. Once a moment had passed, Markus sat back down.

After a quick beat, Red Tornado walked up over to Lina’s bed. Looking up at him, the French girl came to realize just how much bigger he was in comparison to herself. But then, the robot extended his hand. Smiling slightly, Lina took it and shook it firmly.

“I believe the proper statement to make here is 'Welcome aboard’.” Red Tornado said, and Lina could have sworn she heard a happy tone in his robotic voice.

Gotham City

April 16, 2008

16:00 EST

As Bruce Wayne sat at his desk, the desk that practically ruled over Gotham City, he let his mind wander. This was not an unusual occurrence for him, for either of his personas. Anyone who knew either the man in the suit, or the man in the cowl, knew that if Bruce Wayne ever got a far away look in his eye then he was already on a whole other planet. This however, didn't seem to stop the twelve year old boy in his office from chatting on in front of him.

“And then, ooh, and then the best part happens. The guy comes at me, all ‘oh you darn brat I'm going to kill you’ and firing at will, but he completely missed me! Stormtrooper-level missed me!

So once the guy's out of bullets, which takes like five seconds by the way, I-” the boy lets out a sound effect as he backflip-kicks and then lands perfectly back into a crouching position, “-the gun out of his hand and then-”he does another flip, this time going forwards, and then does a low spin-kick, “-knock him off his feet, just like you told me Bruce! Oh my god the face me made when he fell!”

The raven-haired boy looked over at the older man behind the desk, only to notice the far away look in his eyes and the slight frown on his face. The enthusiasm in the young boy leaks out as he realizes he's been talking to himself the whole time, before he stands up straight and fixes the tie of his school uniform.

“So...how'd that mission you went on last night go?” The boy asks, slowly stepping closer to Bruce. The man finally manages to snap out of his trance and focuses in on the twelve year old. “Freak tornado in Paris, right? You were out pretty late because of it.”

“Yes.” Bruce hums. “It went fine.”

After a long moment of silence, the boy's shoulders slag down as he realizes he's not going to get much more out of his guardian.

“I...think I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get a snack, do you want anything?” The raven-haired boy asks as he begins to take a step towards the office door.

“Coffee please, black.” Bruce grunts.

“Black.” The boy chuckles. “What a surprise.” But just as he's about to leave through the door, it swings open. A tall man with slicked-back hair and a white lab coat steps in, carrying a small metal box with the famous 'W’ Wayne Enterprises insignia engraved on it.

“Oh, so sorry Mr. Grayson.” The man said, quickly standing to the side.

“No problem.” The boy shrugs, and motions for the man to pass him. The man nods and does so.

“Doctor Leon.” Bruce greets, standing up and walking around the desk. “I'm assuming this is the package I asked for?”

“Yes sir.” The doctor replied. “14 perfected doses of the newest updated serum.”

“Good, thank you very much.” Bruce replied, and lifted the lid off the box to reveal its content.

The syringes were small, sized for convenience, and full of a translucent blue liquid. As the boy strolled over, he looked high to take a peek at the box's contents. Bruce allowed this for only a moment before closing the box again.

“And you're sure this batch was the one that successfully went through human trials?” Bruce asked.

“Absolutely sir.” Leon nodded. “We just ran the last tests late last night so everything was already out and ready to be copied. Every single trial has proved to be a success thus far, which is why it was marked to be put on the market this time next year.”

“Yes…” Bruce hummed, looking down at the box. The far away look returned again, but this time only for a moment.

“Well, thank you again Doctor.”

“Not a problem at all Mr. Wayne.” Leon nodded, and then turned to walk out. “Have a good evening sir, Mr. Grayson.”

The moment the door shut behind Leon, the twelve year old sighed. “Being called 'Mr. Grayson’ is so...weird. I kind of wish people would just call me Dick, or even Richard.” The boy quickly turned his attention back to the box in Bruce's hands. “So, what's that? Who's it for?”

“Medical Treatment Serum 219, strand 9.4, version 8.” Bruce grunted. It only took Dick a moment before it clicked.

“The new autism inhibiting meds?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you need 14 doses of it?”

“It's not for me.” Bruce replied, placing the box on his desk. “And no, I'm not saying who it is for.

You'll meet them soon enough.”

Dick's eyes lit up and grew twice their size.

“I'll meet them soon enough? Oh come on! Now you have to tell me!”

[almostafantasia]

Lancelot (12/14)

Lexa Woods, an impeccably dressed British secret agent for the covert Kingsman organisation, whose latest mission sees her sneaking through the corridors of the White House in the middle of the night, finds herself having to seduce the daughter of the newly elected President of the United States in a bid to save the world. It’s a surprise to Lexa when she ends up falling for her target as fast as she does, meanwhile Clarke doesn’t expect her gorgeous date for an international political gala dinner to drag her into a world of thrill and danger where one wrong move could cause a global disaster.

a clexa kingsman au | chapter 12/14 read on ao3

Clarke hasn’t smoked since freshman year of college. She’s never been a habitual smoker, never even bought a cigarette. It’s always been a case of using somebody else’s lighter to light somebody else’s cigarette after a few too many beers at a frat party. Clarke doesn’t really like the taste, but it’s usually been numbed by enough alcohol in her system until she wakes up the following morning with terrible breath and the smell of cigarette fumes lingering in her hair before she can summon the energy to haul herself out of bed and into the shower.

Clarke dropped her habit of social smoking near the end of freshman year, deciding that she was getting absolutely nothing from the experience. And with the way that the media likes to misinterpret and blow things hugely out of proportion, Clarke knows that it would only take an appearance in the back of somebody else’s blurry photo with a cigarette caught between her fingers for every news outlet in the country to be emblazoning their front pages with the headline ‘FIRST DAUGHTER GONE WILD’. Clarke doesn’t have the patience to deal with that kind of blowout.

And yet here she is, lifting a cigarette that once again doesn’t belong to her up to her lips, passing it back and forth with a stranger she met at a party. Admittedly, this is a way fancier party than the raucous college affairs she is used to, and the person sharing their cigarette with her is a former prince, but the parallels are there. Clarke almost feels like that freshman girl all over again.

She and Roan have found a secluded garden not too far from the main ballroom, which is where they share their cigarette. The garden is small - a patch of overgrown lawn and a few half-wilted flowers in pots, nothing at all like the grandeur of the ballroom itself - and the doors from the kitchen lead out onto it, bringing a gentle waft of cooking aromas that still linger from the earlier meal, as well as the muffled shouts of kitchen staff giving orders as they clear up.

The garden gives Clarke the privacy to investigate Roan even further. She sincerely hopes that she won’t end up having to kiss him to wheedle the right information out of him, but the fact remains that if she needed to then she could.

A shudder ripples through Clarke’s body at the thought.

Clarke hates the fact that the main objection her brain puts forward to the idea of kissing Roan, is that it would feel like cheating on Lexa. Which is frankly ridiculous, because Clarke has never been in a relationship with Lexa and at this point she doesn’t know if they even have a future together anyway.

Being outside provides Clarke with an opportunity to take another step towards delving into Roan’s possible misdemeanors tonight, and she lets an obvious shiver tremble her body, exaggerating the reaction that she’s having to the chill of the night air.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” she says, wrapping her arms tightly around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill.

Roan, raised to be both a prince and a gentleman, doesn’t hesitate in slipping his arms out of his own jacket and passing it across to Clarke.

“Here, wear this,” he tells her.

“Are you sure?” asks Clarke, pretending as though this isn’t exactly what she hoped he would do.

“Of course,” Roan insists, with a nod. “You need it more than I do.”

“Thank you.”

Clarke drapes the jacket over her shoulders, not bothering to slide her arms into the sleeves yet. As she adjusts the jacket so that it hangs over her arms, warding out the cold, Clarke tries to get a feel of the things he has in his jacket pockets. She feels the weight of his hip flask in the inner pocket, as well as the lighter and box of cigarettes, and she quickly realises that the surprising weight in his right side pocket is his cell phone - which might come in handy if she can subtly remove it and hide it in her clutch bag.

But there’s nothing that might be an antidote, which is what Clarke is really looking for. She’s been hoping that he would keep a small amount of antidote on his person, just in case he ends up accidentally  ingesting some of the poison himself.

Clarke decides to try another tactic.

“You know, I’m feeling a little…” Clarke pauses to search for the right word, then finishes, “... a little woozy. Like I’ve drunk too much, except I don’t think I actually have.”

“Are you okay?” asks Roan, reaching out to rest his hand on Clarke’s arm. “Can I do anything to help? Can I get you anything?”

Clarke shakes her head, leaning slightly into Roan’s touch.

“The fresh air helps a little, I think,” says Clarke.

She lifts one of her hands and presses her palm flat against her forehead, laying it on even thicker by closing her eyes and taking deep breaths in and out. Clarke wants Roan to feel sorry for her, so much that he concedes and tells her where she can find an antidote.

But it strikes her now that maybe Roan won’t ever tell her where the antidote is, maybe she’s misjudged him and he’s sick enough to flirt with a girl he knows is dying.

That thought actually does make Clarke start to feel queasy, because she has just realised that she’s alone in a secluded garden with somebody who Lexa thinks might have drugged everybody at this party, Clarke included. Clarke could be the poster girl for a stranger danger campaign, a perfect example of what not to do.

In the worst case scenario, Clarke is pretty sure she could snap the heel off her shoe and use it as a shiv to threaten Roan into telling her where the antidote is.

“I can get you a glass of water if you like,” suggests Roan.

Clarke seriously considers letting him go - it would give her a chance to search his jacket properly and maybe even get access to his phone - but she decides against it. Lexa has trusted Clarke to get the antidote from Roan and that’s definitely not going to happen if Clarke allows him to leave her sight.

“No,” she says to Roan. “Stay here.”

Clarke loops her arm through his, stopping him from leaving, or even moving, and then makes a decision.

“Can I tell you something?” Clarke asks.

“Go ahead.”

“Somebody told me earlier that the drinks were tampered with,” says Clarke, keeping her voice as calm as possible. “That they’d been drugged or possibly even poisoned. What if that’s true and it’s starting to affect me?”

The way that Roan stiffens against Clarke’s side is enough to confirm that it’s true and that he’s involved.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with the drinks.”

“Ridiculous?” repeats Clarke, pulling her arm out of Roan’s and swivelling in her seat so that she can look at him. “How’s this for ridiculous? The same person told me that you’re the one who tampered with the drinks!”

Roan’s face pales visibly, even under the gloom of the starless sky, and he glances away guiltily.

“I guess that answers that question,” says Clarke.

“It’s not like that,” Roan starts to protest.

“Oh, isn’t it?” demands Clarke. “Please explain exactly what it is like!”

“I didn’t poison the drinks, I swear,” says Roan, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m only here to oversee, to make sure that the champagne gets drunk.”

“Well, as long as that helps you sleep at night,” says Clarke, rolling her eyes.

“I saved you! Doesn’t that count for something?”

Clarke stalls, surprised and confused by his words, and asks, “You saved me? How?”

“The whiskey in the hip flask,” he tells her. “There’s an antidote in there. It was there in case I drunk the poison by accident. But I shared it with you because I don’t want you to die. It’s not fair for you to get caught up in something that’s all about politics.”

“And what about all the hundreds of other guests?” demands Clarke, getting to her feet and folding her arms across her chest. “You give me the antidote and you think that means you don’t have to feel guilty about the hundreds of other people who could die? My parents drunk the champagne! Am I supposed to be okay with them dying and feel grateful that you decided to save me in the hope that I’d fuck you later?”

“Clarke...” says Roan, standing up and taking a couple of steps towards her.

“No!” shouts Clarke. “Stay away from me!”

Clarke impulsively kicks off one of her heeled shoes and bends to pick it up, holding it up in one of her hands with the heel pointing out towards Roan like a weapon. She knows that he could probably overpower her in an instance, but she hopes it makes him think twice before doing so.

“It’s not like that, Clarke,” Roan tries to defend himself.

“That’s exactly what it’s like,” snarls Clarke. She glances away, then says, “Jesus, why does everybody I try to get close to end up being a grade-A prick?”

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” says Roan. “I tried to make this right.”

He tries to step closer again, and Clarke wields her shoe like a knife, warning him to stay away.

“How about next time you try not to poison three hundred people in the first pl-?”

Clarke doesn’t get to finish because she gets cut off by a loud bang coming from the direction of the ballroom. And it’s not a ‘somebody has slipped over on the dance floor’ kind of bang, or even a ‘one of the tables has just collapsed’ kind of bang, but a very definite ‘something has just exploded’ kind of bang.

“What the hell was that?”

…

“What the hell was that?”

“Firecrackers,” says Anya, pulling back her jacket to reveal a small handgun tucked into the waistband of her trousers, which she passes across to Lexa. “Two of them, to distract the security long enough for us to get in. It was Raven’s idea.”

Raven, who for some reason Anya has decided to bring along, takes a mock bow.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m here all week.”

“So what’s happening?” Anya asks Lexa.

“Well, Ontari has just announced to the room that she’s poisoned the champagne,” explains Lexa. “I think you can see how well that went down.”

Lexa thinks that guests have actually taken the news rather well. There’s a shroud of panic filling the room and the occasional hysterical guest, but Lexa was expecting a complete uproar and there hasn’t been one. A few of the political leaders look very concerned, and there are at least three of them babbling away in their native tongue down the phone, no doubt trying to find a solution.

The American government are slightly separated from the rest of the guests, and Lexa isn’t sure if that’s by personal choice or because the others are deliberately segregating them after Ontari’s little announcement. Abby Griffin and Marcus Kane are deep in conversation, while their spouses look on in concern, and Lexa doesn’t envy the decision they’re being forced to make.

It’s Lexa’s job to make sure it doesn’t come down to that.

“Where’s Roan?” asks Anya.

“Probably kidnapping Clarke,” admits Lexa glumly.

“Wrong!”

Lexa doesn’t know if she’s more surprised by the way Clarke suddenly appears beside her, or the way she looks. Clarke wears a tuxedo jacket over her slinky black dress, sleeves rolled up to compensate for how large it is on her, and she’s lost her shoes, choosing to walk around barefoot instead.

“Where are your…?” Lexa starts to ask, gesturing to Clarke’s feet, but she gets cut off before she can even finish her sentence.

“Drink,” says Clarke, thrusting Roan’s hip flask at Lexa.

“I think I’ve had enough to drink tonight,” says Lexa, shaking her head.

“It’s got antidote in it,” explains Clarke. “Just drink a little, I want some left to give my parents.”

“Where’s Roan?” asks Lexa, taking a swig from the flask and passing it back to Clarke.

“Writhing around on the floor in a garden next to the kitchen,” answers Clarke. When all three girls gape at her in confusion, she explains, “I kicked him in the balls and ran away.”

“I’ll deal with him,” says Anya. “We don’t want him getting away.”

Clarke reaches inside the jacket she wears - Roan’s jacket, Lexa realises - and brings out a phone.

“This belongs to him. There might be something useful on it and I’m certain he knows where the antidote is.”

“It has to be nearby,” says Lexa. “And there must be large quantities of it. I don’t think they actually want to kill everyone, just the President.”

“What?” asks Clarke, her eyes wide with horror.

“I’ll leave you to explain that little nugget,” says Anya, tucking Roan’s phone into her trouser pocket and grabbing Raven by the arm. “Come on Raven, let’s go and bitch-slap a grown man together.”

Anya and Raven leave, and Lexa is left alone with Clarke for the first time since she had a drink thrown in her face, and Clarke is no less furious.

“What do you mean they only want to kill the President?” demands Clarke. “That’s my mom!”

“I’m aware! And I’m not going to let it happen, regardless of who she is. I need you to reassure your parents that we’re sorting this out. Nobody is going to die.”

“If you’re wrong about that then I’m going to be so mad at you,” threatens Clarke.

“Well, it may end up being me who dies,” admits Lexa. “I need to find and confront Ontari Azgeda and something tells me she won’t be as easy to manipulate as her brother.”

As Lexa trails off, Clarke stares at her with a frown on her face, seeming torn between concern and the anger she still feels about Lexa lying to her.

“Just … don’t die,” says Clarke.

“I’ll try not to,” says Lexa, keeping her tone light in an attempt to mask the fact that her own death is a very real possibility if she gets it wrong tonight.

“I’m serious,” says Clarke, slapping Lexa’s arm with the back of her hand. “Nobody is dying today, that includes you.”

“I know.”

Clarke’s gaze flies down to Lexa’s lips and for just a second, Lexa wonders if Clarke is going to lean in and kiss her, despite their earlier disagreement. But the moment passes and Clarke turns to walk away in the direction of her parents.

“Fuck,” mutters Lexa, though she doesn’t indulge herself in any more self-pity, knowing that she can’t afford that luxury when there are lives at stake.

Lexa does a quick search of the ballroom for Ontari, who disappeared shortly after concluding her unwelcome speech, but she isn’t anywhere to be seen. Lexa is hardly surprised. She tries to put herself in Ontari’s position, imagining what she would do next and where she would go, and concludes that she would also do a disappearing act until the President makes her decision. None of the guests are leaving, knowing that they need to stick around to have any hope of being given an antidote, so it makes sense that Ontari would keep herself out of the way until she needs to return to the ballroom.

Lexa waits until she’s clear of the ballroom before she draws her gun, not wanting to alarm any of the guests. But it backfires immediately when she rounds a corner and is met by a horrified scream. There’s a woman standing a couple of feet away, hands held up in surrender as she eyes Lexa’s gun in terror.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” says Lexa, lowering the gun to show the woman that she isn’t a threat. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Have you seen the woman who spoke in the hall earlier?”

The woman slowly lowers one of her hands and points behind her.

“Thank you so much,” says Lexa.

She raises her gun again and starts to creep down the corridor, carefully checking each room as she passes. They’re mostly storage cupboards, with a couple of single-stall bathrooms and a cold pantry as Lexa nears the kitchen, but each one is empty. Lexa knows that Ontari can’t have gone far in just a few minutes, but she’s starting to wonder if perhaps finding her now is going to be an impossible task.

Hearing voices from the last door on the right, Lexa edges forward slowly. Her gun is still poised ready for action, but she wields it warily, not wanting to find herself is a situation where she fires it blindly out of defensive instinct and hits an innocent target by accident.

The door is slightly ajar and Lexa peers through the crack. Lexa can tell that this is the kitchen, but the only person she can see inside is the bartender who served her earlier.

There’s a second voice though, and the accent is unmistakable. Following her speech in front of three hundred guests, Lexa would recognise Ontari Azgeda’s voice anywhere.

“She’s going to do it,” says Ontari’s voice. “She’s going to sacrifice herself to save the rest of them.”

“You’re sure?” asks the bartender.

“Certain,” answers Ontari. “This would have been so much more fun with her predecessor. He would have let them all die to save himself. Maybe I should make things interesting and shoot the Griffin girl right in front of her own mother so that the President knows what it’s like to lose something you love.”

“The only person dying tonight is you,” says Lexa, crashing through the door with her gun raised.

Ontari looks startled to see Lexa for about half a second, then a slow smile spreads across her face.

“I should have guessed that you would show up again,” says Ontari. “Alexandria Woods. Born July 1st 1998 to Gustus and Eve Woods in Oxfordshire, England. Your mother passed away when you were…”

“Shut up!” shouts Lexa. Her eyes drop to the name badge pinned to the bartender’s shirt, and she says, “Echo, get out of here.”

“Echo, stay,” counters Ontari.

Echo stays put, but there’s indecision on her face.

Lexa’s decision is a much easier one to make. She aims the gun lower, pointing it at Ontari’s shin, and pulls the trigger before either of the other two women can realise what she’s doing. Ontari lets out a cry of pain and drops to the floor, clutching her leg.

Looking at Echo again, Lexa asks, “Do you still want to stay?”

Echo shakes her head and hurries from the room, leaving Lexa alone with Ontari.

“You psycho bitch!” snarls Ontari, clutching her leg with blood-soaked fingers.

“Rich, coming from you,” retorts Lexa, taking a few steps forward and pointing the gun at Ontari’s head.

“You’re not going to kill me,” says Ontari.

“You want to bet?” challenges Lexa, taking a couple of steps closer, her fun still pointed at Ontari.

“You need me. If I die, then so do all those people.”

“Your brother has already told my colleague where the antidote is,” says Lexa, calling Ontari’s bluff. “They’re getting ready to distribute it to the guests as we speak.”

“No, he hasn’t.”

Lexa narrows her eyes.

“How could you possibly know that?”

Ontari doesn’t answer, and her silence is far more telling than anything she could have possibly said.

“Because you’re guarding the antidote, aren’t you?” Lexa answers her own question, feeling a little stupid for not realising earlier. Her eyes fall to a big keg in the corner of the kitchen, the most obvious place to stash it, and she asks, “Is that where you’re storing it?”

Lowering the gun to her side, Lexa walks over to the keg and turns the tap on the side. The liquid that trickles out onto the floor isn’t easily recognisable, but it’s definitely not the beer that Lexa assumed was in there when she first saw the keg, and she can’t think why they would possibly be storing water in a container like this.

“Bingo,” Lexa mutters to herself.

She reaches into her trouser pocket to take out her phone, ready to fire a quick text to Anya to let her know where the antidote is, but before she can even unlock her phone, the kitchen door comes crashing open again and Anya herself bursts through with Raven right behind her.

“Oh,” says Anya, apparently surprised to find Lexa already here. “The antidote. It’s in the…”

“In the kitchen,” finishes Lexa.

It’s nice to have her suspicions reaffirmed by Anya, who must have been able to wheedle the same information out of Roan. Lexa breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that they can start distributing the antidote to the guests immediately, ensuring that nobody dies here tonight.

But Lexa has only about two seconds to bask in her triumph, because Ontari uses the distraction of Anya’s appearance to make her attack. Still on the floor, where the blood seeping from the bullet wound in her leg stains the otherwise sterile kitchen floor, Ontari wraps her fingers around Lexa’s ankle and pulls her to the ground too. Her other hand lunges for the gun, attempting to pry Lexa’s fingers from around the grip. Lexa doesn’t give up easily, if anything she clutches into the weapon tighter.

And that’s probably her mistake. In wrestling over the gun, Lexa doesn’t realise that one of them has accidentally pulled the trigger until she hears the gunshot echo around the kitchen and feels the reverberations in her hand.

It’s the cry of pain, closely followed by the thud of a body slamming into the counter and dropping to the floor that sends a chill down Lexa’s spine. For just a moment, she panics that she’s just shot Anya, her oldest and closest friend, but when she looks up and sees Anya perfectly well, but hunched over Raven’s limp body, the colour drains from her face. Lexa almost wishes that the bullet had hit Anya, who signs up for thrills and danger and the very real possibility of getting shot just through the nature of her work. But Raven is just an innocent bystander, somebody who was never supposed to be here tonight, a young woman who agreed to a night in with an exciting new lover and ended up getting dragged into this most perilous of situations.

“Fuck!” cries out Anya, cradling Raven’s face in her hands. “Babe, are you okay? Raven, say something.”

There’s a few wheezing noises, then Raven gasps out, “Hurts like a fucking bitch.”

Lexa can see blood oozing out of a wound in Raven’s thigh and breathes out a sigh of relief that the bullet wound isn’t fatal. Not yet, at least, and as Anya scrambles for her phone and dials for an ambulance, Lexa sends out a silent prayer that they can get Raven to a hospital for she loses too much blood.

In all the drama, Lexa nearly forgets that Ontari is still here. Invigorated and enraged by Raven’s injury, Lexa swings her elbow hard into Ontai’s face, hearing the crunch of her nose breaking and feeling the spatter of blood hit her arm. Crying out with pain, Ontari releases her grip on the gun as both of her hands come up to clutch her face, and Lexa takes the opportunity to roll away across the kitchen floor and get to her feet. She cocks the gun and points it at Ontari.

“Did you really think you were going to get away with this?” asks Lexa. “Everybody saw your face. Everybody knows who you are. Abby Griffin would sacrifice herself but all those other people would still know who was the one who killed her.”

“Maybe I’d let them die too,” pants Ontari, a deliriously evil look in her eyes.

“No,” Lexa shakes her head. “Nobody is dying tonight except you.”

Ontari merely shrugs.

“What’s the point in living if I don’t get to live in Azgeda?”

There’s something in Ontari’s eyes, a psychopathic delirium that just winds Lexa up, and she doesn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger, firing a bullet into Ontari’s skull.

[aion-rsa]

Best New Fantasy Books in December 2018

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Looking for a good fantasy read? Here are some of the best new fantasy books to be released in December 2018.

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The Lists Kayti Burt

Fantasy Books

Dec 17, 2018

Fall, one of our four favorite seasons to read, is upon us. Here are some of the fantasy books coming out in the month of December that we are most looking forward to checking out. Is your most-anticipated November fantasy read on the list?

Join the Den of Geek Book Club!

Best New Fantasy Books in December 2018

Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield

Type: Standalone novel Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books Release date: December 4th

On a dark midwinter’s night in an ancient inn on the river Thames, an extraordinary event takes place. The regulars are telling stories to while away the dark hours, when the door bursts open on a grievously wounded stranger. In his arms is the lifeless body of a small child. Hours later, the girl stirs, takes a breath and returns to life. Is it a miracle? Is it magic? Or can science provide an explanation? These questions have many answers, some of them quite dark indeed.

Those who dwell on the river bank apply all their ingenuity to solving the puzzle of the girl who died and lived again, yet as the days pass the mystery only deepens. The child herself is mute and unable to answer the essential questions: Who is she? Where did she come from? And to whom does she belong? But answers proliferate nonetheless.

Three families are keen to claim her. A wealthy young mother knows the girl is her kidnapped daughter, missing for two years. A farming family reeling from the discovery of their son’s secret liaison, stand ready to welcome their granddaughter. The parson’s housekeeper, humble and isolated, sees in the child the image of her younger sister. But the return of a lost child is not without complications and no matter how heartbreaking the past losses, no matter how precious the child herself, this girl cannot be everyone’s. Each family has mysteries of its own, and many secrets must be revealed before the girl’s identity can be known.

Once Upon a River is a glorious tapestry of a book that combines folklore and science, magic and myth. Suspenseful, romantic, and richly atmospheric, the beginning of this novel will sweep you away on a powerful current of storytelling, transporting you through worlds both real and imagined, to the triumphant conclusion whose depths will continue to give up their treasures long after the last page is turned.

Read Once Upon a River by Dianne Setterfield

King of the Road by R.S. Belcher

Type: Companion novel to Brotherhood of the Wheel Publisher: Tor Books Release date: December 4th

They are the Brotherhood of the Wheel: a secret society of truckers, bikers, nomads, and others who defend America’s roads and rails from unnatural threats lying in wait for unwary travelers.

Now a missing-person case leads to a string of roadside murders and mutilations that stretches back decades―and to a cult of murderous clowns who are far more than mere urban legends. Greasepaint and lunatic grins are the last things their victims ever see. And as if that’s not trouble enough, trucker Jimmy Aussapile and his allies must also cope with a violent civil war within an outlaw biker gang long associated with the Brotherhood, as well as run-ins with a rival gang led by a fierce werewolf biker chick who fights tooth and claw to protect her pack.

From Depression-era hobo camps to a modern-day trailer park hiding unearthly secrets, fear lurks just beyond the headlights for the Kings of the Road.

Read King of the Road by R.S. Belcher

Siege of Stone: Sister of Darkness by Terry Goodkind

Type: Volume III in the Nicci Chronicles Publisher: Tor Books Release date: December 31st

Set in the world of the Sword of Truth saga, the ramifications of New York Times bestseller Terry Goodkind's Shroud of Eternity extend throughout all of the Old World as familiar allies, dangerous magic, and creatures created by twisted sorcery all work at cross purposes to either save or destroy Ildakar in Siege of Stone

The Sorceress Nicci, the Wizard Nathan Rahl, and the young swordsman Bannon remain in the legendary city of Ildakar after a great internal revolt has freed the slaves and brought down the powerful wizards council. But as he fled the city, capricious Wizard Commander Maxim dissolved the petrification spell that had turned to stone the invading army of General Utros fifteen centuries earlier. Now, hundreds of thousands of half-stone soldiers from the ancient past have awakened, led by one of the greatest enemy commanders in history.

Nicci, Nathan, and Bannon have to help Ildakar survive this unbreakable siege, using all the magical defenses of the legendary city. Even as General Utros holds Ildakar hostage and also unleashes his incredible army on the unsuspecting Old World, an equally powerful threat arises out in the sea.

Nicci knows the battle won’t remain in the city; if she can’t stop this threat, two invincible armies can sweep across the Old World and destroy D’Hara itself.

Read Siege of Stone: Sister of Darkness by Terry Goodkind

Best New Fantasy Books in November 2018

Breach by W.L. Goodwater

Type: First in new series Publisher: Ace Release date: November 6th

The first novel in a new Cold War fantasy series, where the Berlin Wall is made entirely of magic. When a breach unexpectedly appears in the wall, spies from both sides swarm to the city as World War III threatens to spark.

AFTER THE WAR, THE WALL BROUGHT AN UNEASY PEACE.

When Soviet magicians conjured an arcane wall to blockade occupied Berlin, the world was outraged but let it stand for the sake of peace. Now, after ten years of fighting with spies instead of spells, the CIA has discovered the unthinkable...

THE WALL IS FAILING.

While refugees and soldiers mass along the border, operatives from East and West converge on the most dangerous city in the world to either stop the crisis, or take advantage of it.

Karen, a young magician with the American Office of Magical Research and Deployment, is sent to investigate the breach in the Wall and determine if it can be fixed. Instead, she discovers that the truth is elusive in this divided city--and that even magic itself has its own agenda.

THE TRUTH OF THE WALL IS ABOUT TO BE REVEALED.

Read Breach by W.L. Goodwater

Further reading: In Breach, the Berlin Wall is Magic

Vita Nostra by Marina and Sergey Dyachenko

Type: Standalone Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: November 13th

The definitive English language translation of the internationally acclaimed Russian novel—a brilliant dark fantasy combining psychological suspense, enchantment, and terror that makes us consider human existence in a fresh and provocative way.

Our life is brief . . .

Sasha Samokhina has been accepted to the Institute of Special Technologies.

Or, more precisely, she’s been chosen.

Situated in a tiny village, she finds the students are bizarre, and the curriculum even more so. The books are impossible to read, the lessons obscure to the point of maddening, and the work refuses memorization. Using terror and coercion to keep the students in line, the school does not punish them for their transgressions and failures; instead, it is their families that pay a terrible price. Yet despite her fear, Sasha undergoes changes that defy the dictates of matter and time; experiences which are nothing she has ever dreamed of . . . and suddenly all she could ever want.

A complex blend of adventure, magic, science, and philosophy that probes the mysteries of existence, filtered through a distinct Russian sensibility, this astonishing work of speculative fiction—brilliantly translated by Julia Meitov Hersey—is reminiscent of modern classics such as Lev Grossman’s The Magicians, Max Barry’s Lexicon, and Katherine Arden’s The Bear and the Nightingale, but will transport them to a place far beyond those fantastical worlds.

Read Vita Nostra by Marina and Sergey Dyachenko

The Sky-Blue Wolves by S.M. Stirling

Type: The 15th and final book in the Emberverse series Publisher: Ace Release date: November 13th

S. M. Stirling presents the stunning and epic conclusion to the New York Times bestselling Change series. Many years ago, when advanced technology failed and humanity found itself in a turbulent, postapocalyptic world, extraordinary men and women birthed a new society from the ashes. In this new world of emperors and kings, new leaders emerged, making the world their own.

Two generations after the Change, Crown Princess Órlaith struggles to preserve the hard-won peace her father brought to Montival--the former western United States. But the Change opened many doors, and through them powers strong and strange and terrible walk once more among humankind. 

With her fire-forged friend and ally, Japanese Empress Reiko, Órlaith must take up her sword to stop the spread of the mad malignancy behind the Yellow Raja, who has imprisoned her brother Prince John. And from the emerging superpower of Mongolia, the Sky-Blue Wolves of the High Steppe ride once more beneath the banner of Genghis Khan--the thunder of their hooves resounding across a world in turmoil.

Read The Sky-Blue Wolves by S.M. Stirling

Lies Sleeping by Ben Aaronovitch

Type: Seventh book in the Rivers of London series

Publisher: DAW Release date: November 20th

The seventh book of the bestselling Rivers of London urban fantasy series returns to the adventures of Peter Grant, detective and apprentice wizard, as he solves magical crimes in the city of London.

The Faceless Man, wanted for multiple counts of murder, fraud, and crimes against humanity, has been unmasked and is on the run. Peter Grant, Detective Constable and apprentice wizard, now plays a key role in an unprecedented joint operation to bring him to justice.

But even as the unwieldy might of the Metropolitan Police bears down on its foe, Peter uncovers clues that the Faceless Man, far from being finished, is executing the final stages of a long term plan. A plan that has its roots in London's two thousand bloody years of history, and could literally bring the city to its knees.

To save his beloved city Peter's going to need help from his former best friend and colleague--Lesley May--who brutally betrayed him and everything he thought she believed in. And, far worse, he might even have to come to terms with the malevolent supernatural killer and agent of chaos known as Mr Punch....

Read Lies Sleeping by Ben Aaronovitch

Further reading: Lies Sleeping & Crafting an Intersectional Narrator

City of Broken Magic by Mirah Bolender

Type: First book in the Chronicles of Amicae series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: November 20th

Mirah Bolender's fast-paced, adventure fantasy debut, City of Broken Magic, features a bomb squad that defuses magic weapons.

Five hundred years ago, magi created a weapon they couldn’t control. An infestation that ate magic—and anything else it came into contact with. Enemies and allies were equally filling.

Only an elite team of non-magical humans, known as sweepers, can defuse and dispose of infestations before they spread. Most die before they finish training.

Laura, a new team member, has stayed alive longer than most. Now, she’s the last—and only—sweeper standing between the city and a massive infestation.

Read City of Broken Magic by Mirah Bolender

Further reading: Mirah Bolender on the #FearlessWomen Who Inspire Her

The Mortal Word by Genevieve Cogman

Type: Book five in The Invisible Library series Publisher: Ace Release date: November 27th

In the latest novel in Genevieve Cogman's historical fantasy series, the fate of worlds lies in the balance. When a dragon is murdered at a peace conference, time-travelling Librarian spy Irene must solve the case to keep the balance between order, chaos...and the Library.

When Irene returns to London after a relatively straightforward book theft in Germany, Bradamant informs her that there is a top secret dragon-Fae peace conference in progress that the Library is mediating, and that the second-in-command dragon has been stabbed to death. Tasked with solving the case, Vale and Irene immediately go to 1890s Paris to start their investigation.

Once they arrive, they find evidence suggesting that the murder victim might have uncovered proof of treachery by one or more Librarians. But to ensure the peace of the conference, some Librarians are being held as hostages in the dragon and Fae courts. To save the captives, including her parents, Irene must get to the bottom of this murder--but was it a dragon, a Fae, or even a Librarian who committed the crime?

Read The Mortal Word by Genevieve Cogman

Best New Fantasy Books in October 2018

An Easy Death by Charlaine Harris

Type: First in new series Publisher: Saga Release date: October 2nd

The beloved #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Sookie Stackhouse series, the inspiration for HBO’s True Blood, and the Midnight Crossroad trilogy adapted for NBC’s Midnight, Texas, has written a taut new thriller—the first in the Gunnie Rose series—centered on a young gunslinging mercenary, Lizbeth Rose. 

Set in a fractured United States, in the southwestern country now known as Texoma. A world where magic is acknowledged but mistrusted, especially by a young gunslinger named Lizbeth Rose. Battered by a run across the border to Mexico Lizbeth Rose takes a job offer from a pair of Russian wizards to be their local guide and gunnie. For the wizards, Gunnie Rose has already acquired a fearsome reputation and they’re at a desperate crossroad, even if they won’t admit it. They’re searching through the small border towns near Mexico, trying to locate a low-level magic practitioner, Oleg Karkarov. The wizards believe Oleg is a direct descendant of Grigori Rasputin, and that Oleg’s blood can save the young tsar’s life.

As the trio journey through an altered America, shattered into several countries by the assassination of Franklin Roosevelt and the Great Depression, they’re set on by enemies. It’s clear that a powerful force does not want them to succeed in their mission. Lizbeth Rose is a gunnie who has never failed a client, but her oath will test all of her skills and resolve to get them all out alive.

Read An Easy Death by Charlaine Harris

Kill the Queen by Jennifer Estep

Type: First in new series Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: October 2nd

Gladiator meets Game of Thrones: a royal woman becomes a skilled warrior to destroy her murderous cousin, avenge her family, and save her kingdom in this first entry in a dazzling fantasy epic from the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Elemental Assassin series—an enthralling tale that combines magic, murder, intrigue, adventure, and a hint of romance.

In a realm where one’s magical power determines one’s worth, Lady Everleigh’s lack of obvious ability relegates her to the shadows of the royal court of Bellona, a kingdom steeped in gladiator tradition. Seventeenth in line for the throne, Evie is nothing more than a ceremonial fixture, overlooked and mostly forgotten.

But dark forces are at work inside the palace. When her cousin Vasilia, the crown princess, assassinates her mother the queen and takes the throne by force, Evie is also attacked, along with the rest of the royal family. Luckily for Evie, her secret immunity to magic helps her escape the massacre.

Forced into hiding to survive, she falls in with a gladiator troupe. Though they use their talents to entertain and amuse the masses, the gladiators are actually highly trained warriors skilled in the art of war, especially Lucas Sullivan, a powerful magier with secrets of his own. Uncertain of her future—or if she even has one—Evie begins training with the troupe until she can decide her next move.

But as the bloodthirsty Vasilia exerts her power, pushing Bellona to the brink of war, Evie’s fate becomes clear: she must become a fearsome gladiator herself . . . and kill the queen.

Read Kill the Queen by Jennifer Estep

Priest of Bones by Peter McLean

Type: First in new series Publisher: Ace Release date: October 2nd

The war is over, and army priest Tomas Piety heads home with Sergeant Bloody Anne at his side. But things have changed while he was away: his crime empire has been stolen and the people of Ellinburg--his people--have run out of food and hope and places to hide. Tomas sets out to reclaim what was his with help from Anne, his brother, Jochan, and his new gang: the Pious Men. But when he finds himself dragged into a web of political intrigue once again, everything gets more complicated.

As the Pious Men fight shadowy foreign infiltrators in the back-street taverns, brothels, and gambling dens of Tomas's old life, it becomes clear: 

The war is only just beginning.

Read Priest of Bones by Peter McLean

The Phoenix Empress by K Arsenault Rivera

Type: Second book in Ascendant series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: October 9th

K Arsenault Rivera's second novel, The Tiger's Daughter, the continuation of a new epic fantasy trilogy 

"Rich, expansive, and grounded in human truth...simply exquisite.”—V. E. Schwab, New York Times bestselling author of the Shades of Magic series

Once they were the heirs to a prophecy that predicted two women would save an empire.

Now Shefali is dying—and her wife is unaware of the coming tragedy. Shizuka is too busy trying to reunite a fractured empire and right the wrongs of her ancestors.

As the Imperial Army gathers against a demonic invasion, Shizuka must do all she can with an empire on the brink of civil war.

Read The Phoenix Empress by K Arsenault Rivera

Check out our interview with K Arsenault Rivera at New York Comic Con...

Video of Speculative Fiction: A New Voice for the Genre

Mage Against the Machine by Shaun Barger

Type: Standalone novel Publisher: Saga Press Release date: October 30th

Harry Potter meets The Terminator in this action-packed adventure about a young man who discovers that everything he believed about his world is a lie.

The year is 2120. The humans are dead. The mages have retreated from the world after a madman blew up civilization with weaponized magical technology. Safe within domes that protect them from the nuclear wasteland on the other side, the mages have spent the last century putting their lives back together.

Nikolai is obsessed with artifacts from twentieth-century human life: mage-crafted replica Chuck Taylors on his feet, Schwarzenegger posters on his walls, Beatlemania still alive and well in his head. But he’s also tasked with a higher calling—to maintain the Veils that protect mage-kind from the hazards of the wastes beyond. As a cadet in the Mage King’s army, Nik has finally found what he always wanted—a purpose. But when confronted by one of his former instructors gone rogue, Nik tumbles into a dark secret. The humans weren’t nuked into oblivion—they’re still alive. Not only that, outside the domes a war rages between the last enclaves of free humans and vast machine intelligences.

Outside the dome, unprepared and on the run, Nik finds Jem. Jem is a Runner for the Human Resistance. A ballerina-turned-soldier by the circumstances of war, Jem is more than just a human—her cybernetic enhancement mods make her faster, smarter, and are the only things that give her a fighting chance against the artificial beings bent on humanity’s eradication.

Now Nik faces an impossible decision: side with the mages and let humanity die out? Or stand with Jem and the humans—and risk endangering everything he knows and loves?

Read Mage Against the Machine by Shaun Barger

The Monster Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

Type: Second book in The Masquerade series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: October 30th

A breathtaking geopolitical epic fantasy, The Monster Baru Cormorant is the sequel to Seth Dickinson's "fascinating tale" (The Washington Post), The Traitor Baru Cormorant.

Her world was shattered by the Empire of Masks. For the power to shatter the Masquerade, She betrayed everyone she loved.

The traitor Baru Cormorant is now the cryptarch Agonist—a secret lord of the empire she's vowed to destroy.

Hunted by a mutinous admiral, haunted by the wound which has split her mind in two, Baru leads her dearest foes on an expedition for the secret of immortality. It's her chance to trigger a war that will consume the Masquerade.

But Baru's heart is broken, and she fears she can no longer tell justice from revenge...or her own desires from the will of the man who remade her.

Read The Monster Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

Read our interview with Seth Dickinson.

Check out an exclusive excerpt from The Monster Baru Cormorant.

The Books of Earthsea: The Complete Illustrated Edition by Ursula K. Leguin

Type: Special edition Publisher: Saga Press Release date: October 30th

Celebrating the 50th anniversary of the timeless and beloved A Wizard of Earthsea that “reads like the retelling of a tale first told centuries ago,” (David Mitchell)—comes this complete omnibus edition of the entire Earthsea chronicles, including over fifty illustrations illuminating Le Guin’s vision of her classic saga. 

Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea novels are some of the most acclaimed and awarded works in literature—they have received prestigious accolades such as the National Book Award, a Newbery Honor, the Nebula Award, and many more honors, commemorating their enduring place in the hearts and minds of readers and the literary world alike.

Now for the first time ever, they’re all together in one volume—including the early short stories, Le Guin’s “Earthsea Revisioned” Oxford lecture, and a new Earthsea story, never before printed.

With a new introduction by Le Guin herself, this essential edition will also include fifty illustrations by renowned artist Charles Vess, specially commissioned and selected by Le Guin, to bring her refined vision of Earthsea and its people to life in a totally new way.

[Stories include: “A Wizard of Earthsea”, “The Tombs of Atuan”, “The Farthest Shore”, “Tehanu”, “Tales From Earthsea”, “The Other Wind”, “The Rule of Names”, “The Word of Unbinding”, “The Daughter of Odren”, and “Earthsea Revisioned: A Lecture at Oxford University”.]

With stories as perennial and universally beloved as The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of The Rings—but also unlike anything but themselves—this edition is perfect for those new to the world of Earthsea, as well as those who are well-acquainted with its enchanting magic: to know Earthsea is to love it.

Read The Books of Earthsea: The Illustrated Edition by Ursula K. Leguin

Further reading: Best New Science Fiction Books

Further reading: Best New Young Adult Fiction

Further reading: Best New Horror Books

Best New Fantasy Books in September 2018

Night and Silence by Seanan McGuire

Type: Book 12 in the October Daye series Publisher: DAW Release date: September 4th

Things are not okay.

In the aftermath of Amandine's latest betrayal, October "Toby" Daye's fragile self-made family is on the verge of coming apart at the seams. Jazz can't sleep, Sylvester doesn't want to see her, and worst of all, Tybalt has withdrawn from her entirely, retreating into the Court of Cats as he tries to recover from his abduction. Toby is floundering, unable to help the people she loves most heal. She needs a distraction. She needs a quest.

What she doesn't need is the abduction of her estranged human daughter, Gillian. What she doesn't need is to be accused of kidnapping her own child by her ex-boyfriend and his new wife, who seems to be harboring secrets of her own. There's no question of whether she'll take the case. The only question is whether she's emotionally prepared to survive it.

Signs of Faerie's involvement are everywhere, and it's going to take all Toby's nerve and all her allies to get her through this web of old secrets, older hatreds, and new deceits. If she can't find Gillian before time runs out, her own child will pay the price. 

Two questions remain: Who in Faerie remembered Gillian existed? And what do they stand to gain? 

No matter how this ends, Toby's life will never be the same.

Read Night and Silence by Seanan McGuire

Timeless: A Drizzt Novel by R.A. Salvatore

Type: Book one in trilogy set in the world of Forgotten Realms Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: September 4th

At long last, New York Times bestselling author R. A. Salvatore returns with one of fantasy's most beloved and enduring icons, the dark elf Drizzt Do'Urden, in an all-new trilogy full of swordplay, danger, and imaginative thrills,

Centuries ago, in the city of Menzoberranzan, the City of Spiders, the City of Drow, nestled deep in the unmerciful Underdark of Toril, a young weapon master earned a reputation far above his station or that of his poor house.

The greater nobles watched him, and one matron, in particular, decided to take him as her own. She connived with rival great houses to secure her prize, but that prize was caught for her by another, who came to quite enjoy the weapon master.

This was the beginning of the friendship between Zaknafein and Jarlaxle, and the coupling of Matron Malice and the weapon master who would sire Drizzt Do’Urden.

R. A. Salvatore reveals the Underdark anew through the eyes of Zaknafein and Jarlaxle—an introduction to the darkness that offers a fresh view of the opportunities to be found in the shadows and an intriguing prelude to the intriguing escapes that lie ahead in the modern-day Forgotten Realms. Here, a father and his son are reunited and embark on adventures that parallel the trials of centuries long past as the friends of old are joined by Drizzt, Hero of the North, trained by Grandmaster Kane in the ways of the monk.

But the scourge of the dangerous Lolth’s ambitions remain, and demons have been foisted on the unwitting of the surface. The resulting chaos and war will prove to be the greatest challenge for all three.

Read Timeless: A Drizzt Novel by R.A. Salvatore

The Late Great Wizard by Sara Hanover

Type: First book in a planned series Publisher: DAW Release date: September 11th

A young woman must work with a magician who is not what he seems to find her father in this new contemporary portal fantasy series.

With her father vanished under suspicious circumstances and her old life destroyed, Tessa Andrews is determined to pick up the pieces and forge ahead. If only their borrowed house didn't shake and rumble as if haunted. But at least she and her mom have a roof over their heads, so her luck couldn't be all bad, could it?

As if to prove her wrong, Tessa gets an urgent call for help one night from crusty old Professor Brandard, one of the people on her charity meals route. She dashes over, only to find the house in flames and the professor gone. A handsome young man steps out of the ashes to request her assistance, claiming to be the professor and a Phoenix wizard. She not only has to believe in him, but in magic, for an ancient evil is awakening and it will take the two of them, plus a few shady friends, to stand against it.

Because the rejuvenation ritual has gone horribly wrong. The late, great wizard desperately needs to get his mojo back, for only if Brandard regains all his magic do they stand any chance of defeating this deadliest of perils.

Read The Late Great Wizard by Sara Hanover

The Queen of Crows by Myke Cole

Type: Book two in the Sacred Throne trilogy Publisher: Tor.com Release date: September 18th

In this epic fantasy sequel, Heloise stands tall against overwhelming odds—crippling injuries, religious tyrants—and continues her journey from obscurity to greatness with the help of alchemically-empowered armor and an unbreakable spirit.

No longer just a shell-shocked girl, she is now a figure of revolution whose cause grows ever stronger. But the time for hiding underground is over. Heloise must face the tyrannical Order and win freedom for her people.

Read The Queen of Crows by Myke Cole

Time's Convert by Deborah Harkness

Type: Novel set in the All Souls universe Publisher: Viking Release date: September 18th

On the battlefields of the American Revolution, Matthew de Clermont meets Marcus MacNeil, a young surgeon from Massachusetts, during a moment of political awakening when it seems that the world is on the brink of a brighter future. When Matthew offers him a chance at immortality and a new life free from the restraints of his puritanical upbringing, Marcus seizes the opportunity to become a vampire. But his transformation is not an easy one and the ancient traditions and responsibilities of the de Clermont family clash with Marcus's deeply held beliefs in liberty, equality, and brotherhood.

Fast-forward to contemporary Paris, where Phoebe Taylor--the young employee at Sotheby's whom Marcus has fallen for--is about to embark on her own journey to immortality. Though the modernized version of the process at first seems uncomplicated, the couple discovers that the challenges facing a human who wishes to be a vampire are no less formidable than they were in the eighteenth century. The shadows that Marcus believed he'd escaped centuries ago may return to haunt them both--forever.

A passionate love story and a fascinating exploration of the power of tradition and the possibilities not just for change but for revolution, Time's Convert channels the supernatural world-building and slow-burning romance that made the All Souls Trilogy instant bestsellers to illuminate a new and vital moment in history, and a love affair that will bridge centuries.

Vengeful by V.E. Schwab

Type: Book two in the Villains series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: September 25th

Magneto and Professor X. Superman and Lex Luthor. Victor Vale and Eli Ever. Sydney and Serena Clarke. Great partnerships, now soured on the vine.

But Marcella Riggins needs no one. Flush from her brush with death, she’s finally gained the control she’s always sought—and will use her new-found power to bring the city of Merit to its knees. She’ll do whatever it takes, collecting her own sidekicks, and leveraging the two most infamous EOs, Victor Vale and Eli Ever, against each other once more.

With Marcella's rise, new enmities create opportunity--and the stage of Merit City will once again be set for a final, terrible reckoning.

Read Vengeful by V.E. Schwab

The Sisters of the Winter Wood by Rena Rossner

Type: Standalone novel Publisher: Redhook Release date: September 25th

In a remote village surrounded by vast forests on the border of Moldova and Ukraine, sisters Liba and Laya have been raised on the honeyed scent of their Mami's babka and the low rumble of their Tati's prayers. But when a troupe of mysterious men arrives, Laya falls under their spell - despite their mother's warning to be wary of strangers. And this is not the only danger lurking in the woods.

As dark forces close in on their village, Liba and Laya discover a family secret passed down through generations. Faced with a magical heritage they never knew existed, the sisters realize the old fairy tales are true...and could save them all.

Read The Sisters of the Winter Wood by Rena Rossner

Barren by Peter V. Brett

Type: Novella in the Demon Cycle series Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: September 25th

Each night, the world is overrun by bloodthirsty demons. For centuries, humanity survived only by hiding behind defensive wards—magical symbols with the power to repel the demons. Now, the rediscovery of long-forgotten combat wards has given them the magic they need to fight back.

In Tibbet’s Brook, the fighting wards have brought change, but the factions and grudges of a troubled past remain. Selia Square, the woman they call Barren, has long been the force that holds the Brook together. As a terrifying new threat emerges, she rallies her people once again.

But Selia has a past of her own. And in a small community the personal and the political can never be divided. If Tibbet’s Brook is to survive, Selia must uncover memories she has buried deep—the woman she once was, the woman she once loved—and retell their story.

Read Barren by Peter v. Brett

Best New Fantasy Books in August 2018

Temper by Nicky Drayden

Type: Standalone Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: August 7th

Read our full Temper by Nicky Drayden review.

In a land similar to South Africa, twin brothers are beset by powerful forces beyond their understanding or control in this thrilling blend of science fiction, horror, magic, and dark humor—evocative of the works of Lauren Beukes, Ian McDonald, and Nnedi Okorafor—from the author of The Prey of Gods.

Two brothers. Seven vices. One demonic possession. Can this relationship survive?

Auben Mutze has more vices than he can deal with—six to be exact—each branded down his arm for all the world to see. They mark him as a lesser twin in society, as inferior, but there’s no way he’ll let that define him. Intelligent and outgoing, Auben’s spirited antics make him popular among the other students at his underprivileged high school. So what if he’s envious of his twin Kasim, whose single vice brand is a ticket to a better life, one that likely won’t involve Auben.

The twins’ strained relationship threatens to snap when Auben starts hearing voices that speak to his dangerous side—encouraging him to perform evil deeds that go beyond innocent mischief. Lechery, deceit, and vanity run rampant. And then there are the inexplicable blood cravings. . . .

On the southern tip of an African continent that could have been, demons get up to no good during the time of year when temperatures dip and temptations rise. Auben needs to rid himself of these maddening voices before they cause him to lose track of time. To lose his mind. And to lose his . . . TEMPER.

Read Temper by Nicky Drayden

Catwoman: Soulstealer by Sarah J. Maas

Type: Part of the DC Icons series Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers Release date: August 7th

When the Bat's away, the Cat will play. It's time to see how many lives this cat really has.

Two years after escaping Gotham City's slums, Selina Kyle returns as the mysterious and wealthy Holly Vanderhees. She quickly discovers that with Batman off on a vital mission, Gotham City looks ripe for the taking.

Meanwhile, Luke Fox wants to prove that as Batwing he has what it takes to help people. He targets a new thief on the prowl who has teamed up with Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. Together, they are wreaking havoc. This Catwoman is clever--she may be Batwing's undoing.

In this third DC Icons book, Selina is playing a desperate game of cat and mouse, forming unexpected friendships and entangling herself with Batwing by night and her devilishly handsome neighbor Luke Fox by day. But with a dangerous threat from the past on her tail, will she be able to pull off the heist that's closest to her heart?

Read Catwoman: Soulstealer by Sarah J. Maas

Privateer by Margaret Weis & Robert Krammes

Type: Second in the Dragon Corsairs trilogy Publisher: Tor Books Release date: August 7th

The swashbuckling adventures of Captain Kate Fitzmaurice continues in Privateer with another thrilling epic tale of the Dragon Corsairs from New York Times bestselling author Margaret Weis and Robert Krammes.

Captain Kate soon escapes from prison and saves her crew with the help of Prince Tom. She and her crew are drawn ever deeper into the intrigue and danger of doing business in the kingdom. With them running out of allies and left with nowhere to turn, Kate and Tom strike out on their own.

Read Privateer by Margaret Weis & Robert Krammes

The Black God's Drums by P. Djèlí Clark

Type: Novella Publisher: Tor.com Release date: August 21st

Rising science fiction and fantasy star P. Djèlí Clark brings an alternate New Orleans of orisha, airships, and adventure to life in his immersive debut novella The Black God's Drums.

In an alternate New Orleans caught in the tangle of the American Civil War, the wall-scaling girl named Creeper yearns to escape the streets for the air--in particular, by earning a spot on-board the airship Midnight Robber. Creeper plans to earn Captain Ann-Marie’s trust with information she discovers about a Haitian scientist and a mysterious weapon he calls The Black God’s Drums.

But Creeper also has a secret herself: Oya, the African orisha of the wind and storms, speaks inside her head, and may have her own ulterior motivations.

Soon, Creeper, Oya, and the crew of the Midnight Robber are pulled into a perilous mission aimed to stop the Black God’s Drums from being unleashed and wiping out the entirety of New Orleans.

Read The Black God's Drums by P. Djèlí Clark

Hollywood Dead: A Sandman Slim Novel by Richard Kadrey

Type: Tenth book in Sandman Slim series Publisher: Harper Voyager Release date: August 28th

Life and death takes on an entirely new meaning for half-angel, half-human hero James Stark, aka, Sandman Slim, in this insanely inventive, high-intensity tenth supernatural noir thriller in the New York Times bestselling series.

James Stark is back from Hell, trailing more trouble in his wake. To return to L.A., he had to make a deal with the evil power brokers, Wormwood—an arrangement that came with a catch. While he may be home, Stark isn’t quite himself . . . because he’s only partially alive.

There’s a time limit on his reanimated body, and unless Stark can find the people targeting Wormwood, he will die again—and this time there will be no coming back. Even though he’s armed with the Room of Thirteen Doors, Stark knows he can’t find Wormwood’s enemies alone. To succeed he’s got to enlist the help of new friends—plus a few unexpected old faces.

Stark has been in dangerous situations before—you don’t get named Sandman Slim for nothing. But with a mysterious enemy on the loose, a debt to pay, and a clock ticking down, this may truly be the beginning of his end. . . .

Read Hollywood Dead by Richard Kadrey

Ravencry by Ed McDonald

Type: Second book in the Raven's Mark series Publisher: Ace Release date: August 21st

In the second gritty installment of the Raven's Mark series, a bounty hunter faces down the darkest evil.

Ryhalt Galharrow is a blackwing--a bounty hunter who seeks out and turns over any man, woman, or child who has been compromised by the immortals known as the Deep Kings. Four years have passed since he helped drive the Deep Kings back across the Misery. But new and darker forces are rising against the republic...

Read Ravencry by Ed McDonald

The Fall of Gondolin by J.R.R. Tolkien (edited by Christopher Tolkien)

Type: Standalone Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Release date: August 30th

In the Tale of The Fall of Gondolin are two of the greatest powers in the world. There is Morgoth of the uttermost evil, unseen in this story but ruling over a vast military power from his fortress of Angband. Deeply opposed to Morgoth is Ulmo, second in might only to Manwë, chief of the Valar: he is called the Lord of Waters, of all seas, lakes, and rivers under the sky. But he works in secret in Middle-earth to support the Noldor, the kindred of the Elves among whom were numbered Húrin and Túrin Turambar.   Central to this enmity of the gods is the city of Gondolin, beautiful but undiscoverable. It was built and peopled by Noldorin Elves who, when they dwelt in Valinor, the land of the gods, rebelled against their rule and fled to Middle-earth. Turgon King of Gondolin is hated and feared above all his enemies by Morgoth, who seeks in vain to discover the marvellously hidden city, while the gods in Valinor in heated debate largely refuse to intervene in support of Ulmo’s desires and designs.   Into this world comes Tuor, cousin of Túrin, the instrument of Ulmo’s designs. Guided unseen by him Tuor sets out from the land of his birth on the fearful journey to Gondolin, and in one of the most arresting moments in the history of Middle-earth the sea-god himself appears to him, rising out of the ocean in the midst of a storm. In Gondolin he becomes great; he is wedded to Idril, Turgon’s daughter, and their son is Eärendel, whose birth and profound importance in days to come is foreseen by Ulmo.   At last comes the terrible ending. Morgoth learns through an act of supreme treachery all that he needs to mount a devastating attack on the city, with Balrogs and dragons and numberless Orcs. After a minutely observed account of the fall of Gondolin, the tale ends with the escape of Túrin and Idril, with the child Eärendel, looking back from a cleft in the mountains as they flee southward, at the blazing wreckage of their city. They were journeying into a new story, the Tale of Eärendel, which Tolkien never wrote, but which is sketched out in this book from other sources.   Following his presentation of Beren and Lúthien Christopher Tolkien has used the same ‘history in sequence’ mode in the writing of this edition of The Fall of Gondolin. In the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, it was ‘the first real story of this imaginary world’ and, together with Beren and Lúthien and The Children of Húrin, he regarded it as one of the three ‘Great Tales’ of the Elder Days.

Read The Fall of Gondolin by J.R.R. Tolkien

Best New Fantasy Books in July 2018

City of Lies by Sam Hawke

Type: First book in the Poison Wars series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: July 3

I was seven years old the first time my uncle poisoned me...

Outwardly, Jovan is the lifelong friend of the Chancellor’s charming, irresponsible Heir. Quiet. Forgettable. In secret, he's a master of poisons and chemicals, trained to protect the Chancellor’s family from treachery. When the Chancellor succumbs to an unknown poison and an army lays siege to the city, Jovan and his sister Kalina must protect the Heir and save their city-state.

But treachery lurks in every corner, and the ancient spirits of the land are rising...and angry.

Read City of Lies by Sam Hawke

The Book of Hidden Things by Francesco Dimitri

Type: Standalone (for now) Publisher: Titan Books Release date: July 3

Four old school friends have a pact: to meet up every year in the small town in Puglia they grew up in. Art, the charismatic leader of the group and creator of the pact, insists that the agreement must remain unshakable and enduring. But this year, he never shows up.

A visit to his house increases the friends' worry; Art is farming marijuana. In Southern Italy doing that kind of thing can be very dangerous. They can't go to the Carabinieri so must make enquiries of their own. This is how they come across the rumours about Art; bizarre and unbelievable rumours that he miraculously cured the local mafia boss's daughter of terminal leukaemia. And among the chaos of his house, they find a document written by Art, The Book of Hidden Things, that promises to reveal dark secrets and wonders beyond anything previously known.

Francesco Dimitri's first novel written in English, following his career as one of the most significant fantasy writers in Italy, will entrance fans of Elena Ferrante, Neil Gaiman and Donna Tartt. Set in the beguiling and seductive landscape of Southern Italy, this story is about friendship and landscape, love and betrayal; above all it is about the nature of mystery itself.

Read The Book of Hidden Things by Francesco Dimitri

Heroine's Journey by Sarah Kuhn

Type: Third book in the Heroine Complex series Publisher: DAW Release date: July 3

If there's one thing Beatrice Tanaka never wanted to be, it's normal. But somehow, her life has unfolded as a series of "should haves." Her powers of emotional projection should have made her one of the most formidable superheroes of all time. And she should have been allowed to join her older sister Evie as a full-fledged protector of San Francisco, pulverizing the city's plethora of demon threats. 

But Evie and her superheroing partner, Aveda Jupiter, insist on seeing Bea as the impulsive, tempestuous teenager she used to be--even though she's now a responsible adult. And that means Bea is currently living a thoroughly normal life. She works as a bookstore lackey, hangs out with best friends Sam Fujikawa and Leah Kim, and calms her workplace's more difficult customers. Sure, she's not technically supposed to be playing with people's mental states. But given the mundanity of her existence, who can blame her? 

When a mysterious being starts communicating with Bea, hinting at an evil that's about to overtake the city, she seizes the opportunity, hoping to turn her "should haves" into the fabulous heroic life she's always wanted. But gaining that life may mean sacrificing everything--and everyone--she holds dear...

Read Heroine's Journey by Sarah Kuhn

The Empire of Ashes by Anthony Ryan

Type: Third book in the Draconis Memoria series Publisher: Ace Release date: July 3

For hundreds of years, the Ironship Trading Syndicate was fueled by drake blood--and protected by the Blood-blessed, those few who could drink it and wield fearsome powers. But now the very thing that sustained the corporate world threatens to destroy it. 

A drake of unimaginable power has risen, and it commands an army of both beasts and men. Rogue Blood-blessed Claydon Torcreek, Syndicate agent Lizanne Lethridge, and Ironship captain Corrick Hilemore, spread to disparate corners of the world, must rely upon the new powers and knowledge they have gained at great price to halt its forces--or face the end of all they know.

Read The Empire of Ashes by Anthony Ryan

European Travel for the Monstrous Gentlewoman by Theodora Goss

Type: Second book in the Extraordinary Adventures of the Athena Club series Publisher: Saga Release date: July 10

In the sequel to the critically acclaimed The Strange Case of the Alchemist’s Daughter, Mary Jekyll and the rest of the daughters of literature’s mad scientists embark on a madcap adventure across Europe to rescue another monstrous girl and stop the Alchemical Society’s nefarious plans once and for all.

Mary Jekyll’s life has been peaceful since she helped Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson solve the Whitechapel Murders. Beatrice Rappaccini, Catherine Moreau, Justine Frankenstein, and Mary’s sister Diana Hyde have settled into the Jekyll household in London, and although they sometimes quarrel, the members of the Athena Club get along as well as any five young women with very different personalities. At least they can always rely on Mrs. Poole.

But when Mary receives a telegram that Lucinda Van Helsing has been kidnapped, the Athena Club must travel to the Austro-Hungarian Empire to rescue yet another young woman who has been subjected to horrific experimentation. Where is Lucinda, and what has Professor Van Helsing been doing to his daughter? Can Mary, Diana, Beatrice, and Justine reach her in time?

Racing against the clock to save Lucinda from certain doom, the Athena Club embarks on a madcap journey across Europe. From Paris to Vienna to Budapest, Mary and her friends must make new allies, face old enemies, and finally confront the fearsome, secretive Alchemical Society. It’s time for these monstrous gentlewomen to overcome the past and create their own destinies.

Read European Travel For the Monstrous Gentlewoman by Theodora Goss

Spinning Silver: A Novel by Naomi Novik

Type: Standalone (expanded from a short story in The Starlit Wood) Publisher: Del Rey Release date: July 10

With the Nebula Award–winning Uprooted, Naomi Novik opened a brilliant new chapter in an already acclaimed career, delving into the magic of fairy tales to craft a love story that was both timeless and utterly of the now. Spinning Silver draws readers deeper into this glittering realm of fantasy, where the boundary between wonder and terror is thinner than a breath, and safety can be stolen as quickly as a kiss.

Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, but her father’s inability to collect his debts has left his family on the edge of poverty—until Miryem takes matters into her own hands. Hardening her heart, the young woman sets out to claim what is owed and soon gains a reputation for being able to turn silver into gold.

When an ill-advised boast draws the attention of the king of the Staryk—grim fey creatures who seem more ice than flesh—Miryem’s fate, and that of two kingdoms, will be forever altered. Set an impossible challenge by the nameless king, Miryem unwittingly spins a web that draws in a peasant girl, Wanda, and the unhappy daughter of a local lord who plots to wed his child to the dashing young tsar.

But Tsar Mirnatius is not what he seems. And the secret he hides threatens to consume the lands of humans and Staryk alike. Torn between deadly choices, Miryem and her two unlikely allies embark on a desperate quest that will take them to the limits of sacrifice, power, and love.

Channeling the vibrant heart of myth and fairy tale, Spinning Silver weaves a multilayered, magical tapestry that readers will want to return to again and again.

Read Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

Deep Roots by Ruthanna Emrys

Type: Second book in the Innsmouth Legacy series Publisher: Tor.com Release date: July 10

Ruthanna Emrys’ Innsmouth Legacy, which began with Winter Tide and continues with Deep Roots, confronts H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos head-on, boldly upturning his fear of the unknown with a heart-warming story of found family, acceptance, and perseverance in the face of human cruelty and the cosmic apathy of the universe. Emrys brings together a family of outsiders, bridging the gaps between the many people marginalized by the homogenizing pressure of 1940s America.

Aphra Marsh, descendant of the People of the Water, has survived Deep One internment camps and made a grudging peace with the government that destroyed her home and exterminated her people on land. Deep Rootscontinues Aphra’s journey to rebuild her life and family on land, as she tracks down long-lost relatives. She must repopulate Innsmouth or risk seeing it torn down by greedy developers, but as she searches she discovers that people have been going missing. She will have to unravel the mystery, or risk seeing her way of life slip away.

Read Deep Roots by Ruthanna Emrys

Spellslinger by Sebastien de Castell

Type: First book in Spellslinger series Publisher: Orbit Release date: July 17

Kellen is moments away from facing his first duel and proving his worth as a spellcaster. There's just one problem: his magic is fading.

Facing exile unless he can pass the mage trials, Kellen is willing to risk everything - even his own life - in search of a way to restore his magic. But when the enigmatic Ferius Parfax arrives in town, she challenges him to take a different path.

One of the elusive Argosi, Ferius is a traveller who lives by her wits and the cards she carries. Daring, unpredictable, and wielding magic Kellen has never seen before, she may be his only hope.

The first novel in a compelling six-book series, bursting with tricks, humor, and a whole new way to look at magic.

Read Spellslinger by Sebastien de Castell

The Girl in the Green Silk Gown by Seanan McGuire

Type: Second book in Ghost Roads series Publisher: DAW Release date: July 17

For Rose Marshall, death has long since become the only life she really knows.  She’s been sweet sixteen for more than sixty years, hitchhiking her way along the highways and byways of America, sometimes seen as an avenging angel, sometimes seen as a killer in her own right, but always Rose, the Phantom Prom Date, the Girl in the Green Silk Gown.

The man who killed her is still out there, thanks to a crossroads bargain that won’t let him die, and he’s looking for the one who got away.  When Bobby Cross comes back into the picture, there’s going to be hell to pay—possibly literally.

Rose has worked for decades to make a place for herself in the twilight.  Can she defend it, when Bobby Cross comes to take her down?  Can she find a way to navigate the worlds of the living and the dead, and make it home before her hitchhiker’s luck runs out?                  There’s only one way to know for sure.

Read The Girl in the Green Silk Gown by Seanan McGuire

The Descent of Monsters by JY Yang

Type: Third book in Tensorate series Publisher: Tor.com Release date: July 31

Something terrible happened at the Rewar Teng Institute of Experimental Methods. When the Tensorate’s investigators arrived, they found a sea of blood and bones as far as the eye could see. One of the institute’s experiments got loose, and its rage left no survivors. The investigators returned to the capital with few clues and two prisoners: the terrorist leader Sanao Akeha and a companion known only as Rider.

Investigator Chuwan faces a puzzle. What really happened at the institute? What drew the Machinists there? What are her superiors trying to cover up? And why does she feel as if her strange dreams are forcing her down a narrowing path she cannot escape?

Read The Descent of Monsters by JY Yang

Best New Fantasy Books in June 2018

Vicious by V.E. Schwab 

Type: Hardcover repackage of the first book in the (so, so good) Villians series Publisher: Tor Books Release date: May 29

Victor and Eli started out as college roommates―brilliant, arrogant, lonely boys who recognized the same sharpness and ambition in each other. In their senior year, a shared research interest in adrenaline, near-death experiences, and seemingly supernatural events reveals an intriguing possibility: that under the right conditions, someone could develop extraordinary abilities. But when their thesis moves from the academic to the experimental, things go horribly wrong.

Ten years later, Victor breaks out of prison, determined to catch up to his old friend (now foe), aided by a young girl whose reserved nature obscures a stunning ability. Meanwhile, Eli is on a mission to eradicate every other super-powered person that he can find―aside from his sidekick, an enigmatic woman with an unbreakable will. Armed with terrible power on both sides, driven by the memory of betrayal and loss, the archnemeses have set a course for revenge―but who will be left alive at the end?

In Vicious, V. E. Schwab brings to life a gritty comic-book-style world in vivid prose: a world where gaining superpowers doesn't automatically lead to heroism, and a time when allegiances are called into question.

Read Vicious by V.E. Schwab

Brief Cases by Jim Butcher

Type: Short stories from the Dresden Files series Publisher: Ace Release date: June 5

The world of Harry Dresden, Chicago's only professional wizard, is rife with intrigue--and creatures of all supernatural stripes. And you'll make their intimate acquaintance as Harry delves into the dark side of truth, justice, and the American way in this must-have short story collection. 

From the Wild West to the bleachers at Wrigley Field, humans, zombies, incubi, and even fey royalty appear, ready to blur the line between friend and foe. In the never-before-published "Zoo Day," Harry treads new ground as a dad, while fan-favorite characters Molly Carpenter, his onetime apprentice, White Council Warden Anastasia Luccio, and even Bigfoot stalk through the pages of more classic tales. 

With twelve stories in all, Brief Cases offers both longtime fans and first-time readers tantalizing glimpses into Harry's funny, gritty, and unforgettable realm, whetting their appetites for more to come from the wizard with a heart of gold. 

Read Brief Cases by Jim Butcher

The Memory of Fire by Callie Bates

Type: Second book in Waking Land series Publisher: Del Rey Release date: June 5

Thanks to the magic of Elanna Valtai and the Paladisan noble Jahan Korakides, the lands once controlled by the empire of Paladis have won their independence. But as Elanna exhausts her powers restoring the ravaged land, news that the emperor is readying an invasion spurs Jahan on a desperate mission to establish peace.

Going back to Paladis proves to be anything but peaceful, however. As magic is a crime in the empire, punishable by death, Jahan must hide his abilities. Nonetheless, the grand inquisitor’s hunters suspect him of sorcery, and mysterious, urgent messages from the witch who secretly trained Jahan only increase his danger of exposure. Worst of all, the crown prince has turned his back on Jahan, robbing him of the royal protection he once enjoyed.

As word of Jahan’s return spreads, long-sheathed knives, sharp and deadly, are drawn again. And when Elanna, stripped of her magic, is brought to the capital in chains, Jahan must face down the traumas of his past to defeat the shadowy enemies threatening his true love’s life, and the future of the revolution itself.

Read The Memory of Fire by Callie Bates

The Traitor God by Cameron Johnston

Type: First in a trilogy Publisher: Angry Robot Release date: June 5

After ten years on the run, dodging daemons and debt, reviled magician Edrin Walker returns home to avenge the brutal murder of his friend. Lynas had uncovered a terrible secret, something that threatened to devour the entire city. He tried to warn the Arcanum, the sorcerers who rule the city. He failed. Lynas was skinned alive and Walker felt every cut. Now nothing will stop him from finding the murderer. Magi, mortals, daemons, and even the gods – Walker will burn them all if he has to. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s killed a god...

Read The Traitor God by Cameron Johnston

A Reaper at the Gates by Sabaa Tahir 

Type: Third book in the An Ember in the Ashes series Publisher: Razorbill Release date: June 12

Beyond the Martial Empire and within it, the threat of war looms ever larger.

Helene Aquilla, the Blood Shrike, is desperate to protect her sister's life and the lives of everyone in the Empire. But she knows that danger lurks on all sides: Emperor Marcus, haunted by his past, grows increasingly unstable and violent, while Keris Veturia, the ruthless Commandant, capitalizes on the Emperor's volatility to grow her own power--regardless of the carnage she leaves in her path. 

Far to the east, Laia of Serra knows the fate of the world lies not in the machinations of the Martial court, but in stopping the Nightbringer. But in the hunt to bring him down, Laia faces unexpected threats from those she hoped would help her, and is drawn into a battle she never thought she'd have to fight. 

And in the land between the living and the dead, Elias Veturius has given up his freedom to serve as Soul Catcher. But in doing so, he has vowed himself to an ancient power that demands his complete surrender--even if that means abandoning the woman he loves.

Read A Reaper at the Gates by Sabaa Tahir

Starless by Jacqueline Carey

Type: Standalone (so far) Publisher: Tor Books  Release date: June 12

I was nine years old the first time I tried to kill a man...

Destined from birth to serve as protector of the princess Zariya, Khai is trained in the arts of killing and stealth by a warrior sect in the deep desert; yet there is one profound truth that has been withheld from him.

In the court of the Sun-Blessed, Khai must learn to navigate deadly intrigue and his own conflicted identity…but in the far reaches of the western seas, the dark god Miasmus is rising, intent on nothing less than wholesale destruction.

If Khai is to keep his soul’s twin Zariya alive, their only hope lies with an unlikely crew of prophecy-seekers on a journey that will take them farther beneath the starless skies than anyone can imagine.

Buy Starless by Jacqueline Carey

Witchmark by C.L. Polk

Type: Standalone (so far) Publisher: Tor.com  Release date: June 19

In an original world reminiscent of Edwardian England in the shadow of a World War, cabals of noble families use their unique magical gifts to control the fates of nations, while one young man seeks only to live a life of his own.

Magic marked Miles Singer for suffering the day he was born, doomed either to be enslaved to his family's interest or to be committed to a witches' asylum. He went to war to escape his destiny and came home a different man, but he couldn’t leave his past behind. The war between Aeland and Laneer leaves men changed, strangers to their friends and family, but even after faking his own death and reinventing himself as a doctor at a cash-strapped veterans' hospital, Miles can’t hide what he truly is.

When a fatally poisoned patient exposes Miles’ healing gift and his witchmark, he must put his anonymity and freedom at risk to investigate his patient’s murder. To find the truth he’ll need to rely on the family he despises, and on the kindness of the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen.

Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhoarse

Type: First book in the Sixth World series Publisher: Saga Press  Release date: June 26

Read our interview with Rebecca Roanhorse on Indigenous Futurism in Trail of Lightning

While most of the world has drowned beneath the sudden rising waters of a climate apocalypse, Dinétah (formerly the Navajo reservation) has been reborn. The gods and heroes of legend walk the land, but so do monsters.

Maggie Hoskie is a Dinétah monster hunter, a supernaturally gifted killer. When a small town needs help finding a missing girl, Maggie is their last best hope. But what Maggie uncovers about the monster is much more terrifying than anything she could imagine.

Maggie reluctantly enlists the aid of Kai Arviso, an unconventional medicine man, and together they travel the rez, unraveling clues from ancient legends, trading favors with tricksters, and battling dark witchcraft in a patchwork world of deteriorating technology.

As Maggie discovers the truth behind the killings, she will have to confront her past if she wants to survive.

Welcome to the Sixth World.

Read Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse

Which fantasy books are you most looking forward to checking out? Let us know in the comments below or in our Den of Geek Book Club on Goodreads.

Kayti Burt is a staff editor covering books, TV, movies, and fan culture at Den of Geek. Read more of her work here or follow her on Twitter @kaytiburt.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2018 Special Edition Magazine right here!

from Books https://ift.tt/2SRmO4M

[apogrcpha-blog]

Eternal [ taehyung x jungkook ]

words // 7.2 K

pairings // kim taehyung x jung jungkook

warnings // major character death

summary // everyone has a soulmate and everyone is given a chance to live with them their entire life because people stop aging at 18. sometimes you have to wait, a very long time.

also on a03

Soulmates had been known to mankind since the beginning of time truly, records of ancient Egyptian pharaohs searching the limited known world for their true love. No one knew exactly how they worked, people stopped aging until they met their soulmates, that was the general story that was told but it was never explained quite well, it was more or less something you had to experience. Tae-il had always believed in them without a doubt, it was just something that he chose to believe in. Soulmates weren’t required for love, his parents were perfect examples. Two people looking as they had done since the first day their eighteenth year, that had been two years ago already and neither had aged a single day though often it actually went unnoticed. It was just assumed people aged slowly but the stories had been written down and recorded, some witnessed them in their real life, seeing people they love not age a day whilst others have become their proper ages, grandparents that appeared younger compared to their children.

Chang-hoon was Tae-il’s best friend though their views differed deeply, Chang-hoon frowned upon the mere thought of soulmates where Tae-il was excited as always, the thought of meeting his was something that was able to make his blood run and his heart pump. Maybe it was the boy’s creative imagination that made him as excited about soulmates as he was, the ideality of it was strange yet perfect to him. A refuge from normal citizen worker life with someone supposedly perfect for you, it was something so magical and idealistic that Tae-il simply could not remove the thoughts from his mind.

Tae-il grew older, artisan life was starting to be rather dissatisfying with him and so was the clear difference between sangmin and yangban, Tae-il rarely understood them when he was younger and the older he grew the more ridiculous they became. The majority being regarded as lesser by the minority, the more the artisan considered it, thought deeply about it, the worst all the logic behind it came though he rarely voiced the thoughts, all of it was hardly appreciated and revolutions did not happen with a single soul.

His eighteenth birthday was a strange affair, a stranger affair when another year had passed and he had gotten married to a girl whose name had been almost completely unimportant, it was for the sheer sake of family values, tradition and honour. Jang-mi was a well mannered girl, seemingly almost bread for children. They got their first child within the first year of their marriage as was customary, a boy they called Chang-min named after his best friend from birth.

There was a certain moment where Tae-il his heart was broken, not necessarily hopelessly broken but it suffered a harsh blow. Chang-hoon had come after the birth of Chang-min, the two best friend hadn’t seen each other in quite some time as Chang-hoon was a fisherman spending most time at sea. The conversation had shifted quite quickly from his newborn son to the soulmate Chang-hoon acquired. Quite some time ago, something his friend had apparently kept hidden from multiple years, Chang-hoon had met an oego nobi in one of the port towns he had visited during his trips. Law forbid their union but when Chang-hoon had noticed that the younger girl had started to age , appearing older than his mother he knew it was the right thing to do, not to mention the ecstatic buzz he felt when he met her.  He knew had found his soulmate.

Tae-il was unsure if it was jealousy that haunted his mind as he played with little Chang-min, chances were that it was a form of jealousy. Aging wasn’t something necessarily enticing, some people from centuries ago had actively chosen not to find their soulmates to remain immortal, though it didn’t quite work that way. Most people did eventually die, their appearance did not grow in any kind of way but their mind slowly deteriorated until a shell was left, nothing close to whom they used to be. Tae-il didn’t care too much about the more vain side, rather he would prefer to see his son grow up and die before his son. Maybe it was even some kind of fear, the fear of his son being greeted by death before him.

Yet Tae-il was very aware of how slim his chances of finding his soulmate were, not to mention he was already married and had an obligation to his family. If there was one thing he valued above else it was family, part of it had been drilled into his brain since birth as he was their parents’ eldest son, guaranteed to carry on their family name but he himself though it was very important too, there might be little love shared between him and Jang-mi, she was a sweet girl though, but their love for their son was in unison and both of them cared deeply for him.

Time passed, Chang-hoon grew older whilst Tae-il remained the same. The same man of eighteen with some facial hair but not much who painted for everyone and no one, he had become more popular and had more requests than ever. Life wasn’t perfect but life was very good for him, his son was growing healthy and had a natural talent for their trade. Within the third year of their marriage they had another baby boy called Min-ki, followed by another girl the next year they named Eun-chae. Life was rather peaceful altogether, though not his idealistic vision, Tae-il wouldn’t have wished for a different like truly as he was able to watch his children and live in comfort.

There was one moment that changed this though. This domestic peaceful life, it was a normal day all together. Tae-il, whilst remaining the appearance of an 18 year old man, had turned thirty-five, his birthday wasn’t something considered very special, him and Chang-hoon celebrated it. Though the fisherman was rarely home, he had made some time for his best friend. At the end of the day after the sun had set and the moon risen Tae-il wanted to go to bed when he noticed Jang-mi staring vainly at a small bowl, her reflection was hazy yet there was one thing clear, a fine line tainting her forehead. Aging.

Opposed to what Tae-il had thought he would do, he did nothing. Merely gave her a kiss before going to sleep, leaving her frowning at the bowl. They weren’t soulmates, they knew that, but apparently Jang-mi had met her soulmate without being aware of it. Marriage was rather permanent though and Tae-il was unsure if she even had the slightest inkling of whom it might be, nonetheless neither ever spoke a word about it. Time passed, Chang-min turned eighteen and within a month was married to a musician’s daughter, his soulmate it turned out.

Jang-mi died, a very bad fever had struck and she had been left extremely weak until her heart stopped beating and Tae-il noticed the four thin lines tainting her forehead after she had died before the burial. Chang-hoon followed soon, an accident on sea after a harsh storm had struck his small boat, it was to be expected sooner or later. For some reason Tae-il had decided to support the family Chang-hoon had left behind, a last deed he could do for a friend whom he had grown jealous of.

Within a small decade his eldest son looked older than him, their second son had died in some kind of freak accident that none had been able to explain. His daughter was married to a farmer’s boy, it wasn’t the best socially but the family was very well off, enough food to sustain them all with complete ease and more than enough was sold to make them one of the richest families nearby, it was a good proposition to both of them.

Tae-il started to tell stories to his grandchildren, a story as to how he was younger than their father which was always a strange story to explain to a small four year old girl and one year old boy, the boy idly twiddling with his thumb. Time passed and Tae-il started to fall into retreat, isolated with just his work. His children died, their children died and the world started to twist and turn. World wars and invasions all occurred after one another with such a rapid succession that Tae-il found it hard to keep track off, they were left alone for the most part though all were affected by what was happening. A century and a half later his home country had suddenly been split in two with extreme tensions between the groups, everything went by infinitely fast.

Honestly Tae-il had never expected to live this long, the longest record was a hundred years yet his mind remained young and his body too, it had been more than two centuries already, he had witnissed society shift from a caste system with the most advanced technology being a telescope to their entire world being shifted, castes didn’t exist, nobility wasn’t determined by blood but by wealth, dynasties had fallen and the internet had been invented. Tae-il had surprised himself with how quick he was to adapt to the new worlds that had been replacing his old one, with all these rebirths he chose one for himself to, Tae-il became Taehyung.

-8-

Taehyung generally preferred and enjoyed 21st century live very much, a very peaceful moment of human history compared to the previous centuries. All the issues still existed in the world, world conflicts,poverty, famine and so much more but all of it had been in vast decline, compared to how things had been when he was born. Life was better, a lot better, Taehyung disliked the change and emphasis on family values, it was still there but it had merely changed a lot, either way life was better now, he recognised that.

Because of his appearance he had decided to study, enroll in college. It took a bit of time to get his papers together, considering he had never properly enrolled in a primary or secondary school since he had been alive for around two hundred years but it was easy to fake some papers, especially with the friends he had accumulated over the years, in the end he had gotten himself enrolled into a university studying art. It wasn’t all that necessary, ever since the beginning of the century he had taken advantage of the internet, a perfect platform for his career to bloom.

His artwork was very popular, it sold very well and he was doing extremely well in terms of money, far too much for him to use truly but it might be nice to try out college for once, get a paper. It wasn’t required but Taehyung quite liked to try out some new things, university was very typical now and he had always attempted to do what is typical for that generation to try and live something he would describe as a young life. It worked, which was also why he had suffered through the best and worst fashion trends.

The university was dedicated to the creative arts, music, poetry, writing, art and many more things. Taehyung had always been somewhat of a social magnet, even when he was still a small boy, so getting some friends proved to be the easiest thing ever. Part of him assumed that it was also so easy because he made it his mission almost to always remain friends with young people, he wouldn’t fall in some kind of slump of being so old and it always helped him remain normal, mostly in his speech as language had definitely changed. All in all the young people kept him alive, attempting to live the best life he could with his seemingly infinite life span.

Jimin was one of the few people who knew his entire story, well not entirely but as close as anyone had gotten, and to Taehyung’s surprise the boy took it very well and actually found it surprising, intimidating yet very cool. Nothing changed in their friendship and it made Taehyung extremely happy, it wasn’t necessarily lifting a burden off of his shoulders as he never viewed his age as a burden but it was nice for someone to understand him better, to know him better than most and for someone to know the string of lies he had attached to make him seem like any eighteen year old going to university.

“I want to introduce you to someone.” Jimin said and Taehyung raised his eyebrows out of curiosity, most of the people they knew were mutual so there weren’t a lot of people he could introduce Taehyung to but he always welcomed new people with open arms.

“Who?”

“Jeon Jungkook, he’s a freshman and is a singer but also an amazing dancer and a bit of a brat most of the time. He’s really nice though, when he wants to be.” Jimin said with a rather fond smile. After that the two went out and went to the college library, even though it was mainly focused on the creative arts, that didn’t keep them from giving tens of thousands of essays to write and to Taehyung’s surprise there was an extreme history collection on every single field there was to study, it was extraordinary how many books there were.

Jungkook sat with a few books open in front of him, earbuds in and a laptop in front of his face. Taehyung noticed how relaxed he seemed and felt a kind of immediately impulse to draw him, his complexion was quite warm and his expression was puzzled yet amused, maybe by his own lack of understanding. The little tongue sticking out as he focused, somehow he looked more photogenic than most people Taehyung had photographed without trying.

“Kookie, this is Taehyung.” Jimin said with a smile as both of them sat down around the table. Jungkook took his earbuds out and stared at Taehyung who did the same and there was something indescribable that had occured between the two of them though Taehyung had an idea as to wha it might be and there was a small tinge of hope, fear, happiness and sadness. Opposites colliding.

“Nice to meet you.” Taehyung said with a small smile.

“Nice to meet you too.”

-8-

Taehyung had stopped believing in his soulmate at some point down the line. At first he held out hope, he was always assuming the time would come but the decades passed and the world had changed so rapidly that he had simply stopped thinking about the idea of his soulmate. It had been decades since his eighteenth birthday and he just decided not to expect it anymore, if he had a soulmate he would’ve met him by now yet at the same time, there was an entire world to explore yet he had never left the boundaries of the country he had been born in. Maybe he had the worst luck with his soulmate somewhere across the earth, one he would never meet until his body did truly give out and resignm decide to stop because it was sick of his already extraordinarily long life span.

Nonetheless Taehyung read many books and papers about Soulmates, it was just something to interest him, keep him entertained. See how technology and scientific advances had changed stories, yet at the core everything was still the same as it had been. You age until your eighteenth birthday and then you stop aging physically until you meet your soulmate, interaction or not once you meet them it just happens. If you didn’t find your soulmate the body would start to deteriorate but it was almost always at an estimated three times slower rate which made their lifespans seem infinite. Yet if you did meet your soulmate at a later date you would age again, the rate ranged from a little faster than normal to so fast people died within a small month because they had been alive for so long already. There was also quite a lot on how perfect a soulmate really was, considering most of the time they were something that was ‘assigned’ at birth, the only way for it to change was for your soulmate to die. People grew into very different people than what was expected of them and sometimes soulmates didn’t go together anymore, it was life.

Meeting a soulmate whilst being aware was written about almost endlessly, Taehyung had read enough to know that it was so different all of them had the liberty and difference to all be best sellers. Somehow though, the more he thought the more confident he started to feel that yes, Jungkook was his soulmate. There was something about that strange feeling that made him think it meant Soulmates, the fear stemmed from the fear that Jungkook was his soulmate. Not because he didn’t want Jungkook as a soulmate, he was absolutely adorable, rather because he was afraid of aging fast. Aging itself was no issue to Taehyung, it was rapid aging that scared him. The thought of going from eighteen to forty overnight. He wasn’t too vain but it was a normal fear he had, he didn’t think it was irrational in all honesty. Everyone either feared aging or death, it was a very normal thing because it was an end or going towards an end to your one human life, it made sense really. Taehyung was still human, he feared the end to his already long life, more so than normal people because he had just gotten so adjusted and used to an extremely long life compared to normal people and that could be stripped away from him within months, he knew he was on rented time if Jungkook was his soulmate.

Over the years there had grown a massive culture around soulmates, psychics who could meet the two of you and determine whether you were soulmates or not. For a moment Taehyung almost wanted to consider them, but that was really stretching. So he decided on the far more rational choice, asking Jungkook. Seeing what he thought and how they could move, Taehyung didn’t like the thought of having to wait it out and still being unsure of who his soulmate is exactly because it could just be someone he spotted walking across the street, yet he had never felt that feeling before and to Taehyung that had to mean something.

Taehyung put his pencil down, staring at the sketch he had made. Over the many decades his art had drastically changed, due to both the materials that were available now and the shift in style, he preferred the diversity of him being able to do both very classical paintings and very modern ones, it made his work very appealing for richer people who would prefer a very traditional painting, he had received endless compliments on how they looked so authentic, not knowing the obvious story of his craftsmanship. Nonetheless it was an extremely easy way to make quite some money with a lot of people craving something so authentic.

A soft knock on his door made him look up from the workstation and slowly he got up, opening the door where Jungkook stood. The younger wore something different and it looked quite stylish for someone who had aggressively claimed he wasn’t trying to be stylish just yesterday. He had a small smile on his face but it seemed rather anxious, another thing Taehyung had mastered over the years, human emotion. It had always been something essential for him to emulate in his pieces but reading human emotion was like any other skill, only it took more practice due to exceptions which was sometimes all of them.

“You wanted to talk to me Taehyung-ssi?” Jungkook said, the way he sounded was anxious too which made Taehyung’s ideas confirmed about how Jungkook was feeling.

“Sit down, yeah? Do you want something to drink?” Jungkook shook his head.

“I’m fine.”

So the two of them sat down, Taehyung took a gulp from the mug of coffee.

“I think we’re soulmates.” Taehyung said, a small smile on his lips.

“I think so too.” Jungkook said, his eyes cast down at the ground. He had a small smile on his lips as he said it but as he looked down it was clear he felt very insecure about it. Taehyung felt surprisingly okay, despite during the time when he was born gay men were far and between, he assumed it was the experience of a lifetime to accept it quite easily, at first there was a wash of shame but over time he grew more accepting, recognising there was no logic in being unaccepting to everything, a century gave you so many experiences and in Taehyung’s opinion it was a lot easier to be accepting then.

“That’s good, you felt it too then?” Jungkook gave a small nod and looked back up again.

“Then I suggest we try dating, if you want that.” Taehyung’s voice was calm as he spoke, it was quite easy for him to remain so calm though he did feel desperate to make Jungkook feel more at ease but he wasn’t sure how to do it yet.

“Okay.”

“Let’s get to know each other then.”

Jungkook smiled. “Yeah.”

-8-

It had been two weeks since they started dating when Taehyung first noticed it. He had finished up one of his paintings. It was a cityscape, digital and one more apocalypse inspired. The overwhelming nature taking over all modern architecture and inventions, it was strange to think of how humans were invading a world but Taehyung decided not to think about it too much as of now. Opting to focus on the present and what was happening in his life rather than some apocalyptic scenario where nature wanted its planet back.

Digital art was still a little weird for him because it was so different yet similar to all the other mediums he’s ever used, it was just hard to adjust to really, that was it. He did understand it and had been working with it long enough to have a very solid skill, good enough to make professional work but it was still strange working with it. It didn’t matter though, he quite liked it because of how easy it was to change and adjust.

Taehyung took a step back, smiling at the work he had made before going to get himself something to drink and eat because he hadn’t really been taking care of himself well, it was very easy for him to fall into the habit of working without taking a single pause to drink or eat because he had fallen into his work and wanted to finish it within the hour but generally, that didn’t work out too well.

He saw his own reflection in the mirror of the window as he looked out, his own face. Fine lines, they weren’t really that noticeable, less than a thin layer of makeup and it would fade, nonexistent but that didn’t really matter, Taehyung liked his physical appearance but it wasn’t the most important thing in his life. It was the change though, that took him by surprise, how fast it was. It had been a week maybe since he had met Jungkook and a few days since they had agreed to be together as a couple, so far it had been going amazing in all honesty, him and Jungkook did fit together though sometimes Taehyung did experience a kind of age gap, almost like a lack of understanding between the two of them because of their age and Taehyung knew that was inescapable but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had originally imagined, Jungkook was patient and understanding most of the time and it helped that Taehyung hadn’t ever allowed himself to become some kind of old, mopey, and complaining man.

Taehyung had decided not to tell Jungkook his entire life story, for one it was a tiring one to tell because of how long it was and a second was that Taehyung didn’t want to overwhelm Jungkook, in the end they might still decide they like to be friends but not necessarily like to be together, it happens. Because of that Taehyung didn’t want to drop the load of information on Jungkook but he felt like the time by which he’d have to do that was shrinking, closing in on him as he was clearly aging faster than he had expected.

Funnily enough, when he thought about it all, all he could think about was Jungkook, the best way to tell Jungkook and how he might react. Taehyung hadn’t even thought about his death that was approaching faster than he would’ve liked, that didn’t even come to his mind, his own well being was just pushed aside, almost forgotten because Jungkook had become his main concern.

He took a deep breath, took a sip of his drink and called Jungkook.

-8-

Jungkook took it all in very well, extremely well, far better than Taehyung had ever expected. Jungkook was understanding, he was a bit weird about it first but that was understandable, knowing that your soulmate was hundreds years old whilst you were just twenty was a little overwhelming, Taehyung could imagine that.

It almost seemed like Jungkook enjoyed listening to Taehyung’s story, it wasn’t too spectacular, a normal human life just expanded and because it was expanded there was more loss, regret and love than normal. Almost like a drama story, though it was considerably longer than most dramas.

“I guess you know what this means.” Taehyung said, a small smile on his lips even though he wasn’t sure if it was happiness, he was happy to see and know Jungkook understood him and how it didn’t seem to mind him much but Taehyung wondered if he really understood the depth here.

“You’re going to age really fast.”

“I think a year at most.” Taehyung didn’t have a perfect estimate, he had nothing that was exact but he had general ideas and he knew he didn’t have that much time really, he knew that.

“That doesn’t change things, really.” Jungkook said and Taehyung wondered if he really understood what he was saying but he would go along without a doubt, Taehyung would see what would eventually happen and if Jungkook would stay true to his comment, that him aging wouldn’t change anything.

“Are you sure about that? I don’t want to go all I’m older than you so I know better but it’s very hard, it’s harder than you think and I think you don’t fully realise all that will come.” Taehyung said, he wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to protect his own heart of because he wanted to protect Jungkook, it didn’t matter really because it was about the idea that it would be quite hard on both of them and that was what it was about, Taehyung wanted to protect his own heart and that of Jungkook.

“I’m as sure as I can be.” Jungkook said with a wide smile. “I know i don’t have the experience you do and all that but trust me Taehyung-ssi, I understand this won’t all be beautiful and that I’ll end up hurt but it will be the same, maybe even worse, if we split up and I don’t spend the time with you. Everything will end in tears but at least we’ll have been together and I will have loved someone.” It was beautiful as Taehyung nodded, a smile on his face before the two of them shared a long kiss. Taehyung still felt a little weary, it was natural for him to considering all he had been through but Jungkook was more genuine than most people he knew, he admitted to the hurt that would come along with their relationship which made Taehyung believe he would end up okay, maybe not happy after it all but he would be okay.

-8-

Within the third month Taehyung estimated he was maybe around forty now, in physical age. He looked older now, though it was far from as bad as Taehyung had imagined it would be, yes he looked older, fine lines, small wrinkles around his eyes, all of it together made him seem older but it were the physical things he started to feel that really started to get to him. Muscle aches came faster and sooner, his arms cramped, his legs didn’t feel all too great at times. It wasn’t anything severe but it was very noticeable, any small physical change that he hadn’t made voluntarily was noticeable after a century, even the smallest changes.

Taehyung had stopped going to college, it had never been necessary either honestly, just a thing he did for fun and to meet some new people and now he was clearly aging he decided to stop going. It wasn’t necessarily about retreating inwards, disappearing from the world but it was just leaving his university, he still regularly hung out with Jimin, who was ecstatic Taehyung had found his soulmate, and his other friends, still did his work and honestly nothing had changed.

It didn’t feel like anything had changed honestly, but Taehyung was starting to slowly get a little worried. Just because things were going fast, very fast and even though he showed his love for Jungkook every day, he didn’t always feel like it was enough though. Like it wasn’t enough to make up for all the hurt he will cause, even though Jungkook kept saying he was more than he could ask for, it was a deep insecurity from inside of Taehyung that was his issue, he just couldn’t change that about himself.

For some reason the closer death came the more time Taehyung started to invest in what he would like to call his final series, not necessarily one piece de resistance, but a last showcase of his work. He worked day and night for two reasons, clearly he was focusing on his collection but he was also doing as much as he could to leave something for Jungkook, the best he could do was leave him money so he could sustain himself for a long time if things didn’t go as planned. Taehyung had never spend much money so really, all of it was just money that had piled up over the century. It was enough to last Jungkook quite some time so Taehyung felt satisfied, it wasn’t giving Jungkook debt it was enabling him to do as he wanted with money to fall back on.

The door opened and Taehyung was quick to cover his canvas, turning it around. Jungkook entered with a smile and two two had a quick kiss.

“How was class?” Taehyung asked as he moved to the kitchen, getting him and Jungkook something to eat.

“It was okay, I met a producer. Yoongi-hyung, he offered to help me create a song and see if he wanted to continue working with me after.” Jungkook said, his tone sounded like he tried to make it casual but it was clear he was excited. Taehyung smiled and pulled out one of the bottles of wine, small victories had to be celebrated. After they had confirmed that they were soulmates Taehyung had learnt that Jungkook had wanted to be a musician since he could remember, it was happy to see him finally get to do what he wanted to do.

“Small steps deserve celebration.” Taehyung said with a grin at the surprised look that Jungkook gave him at the sight of the two wine glasses. Taehyung did really believe in the celebrating the process more than the end result. The end result was what you would eventually end up looking at in the end, what you would listen to and all but Taehyung had learnt that the process was often even more important, it was what you went through and what would very heavily dictate the end result. If you don’t acknowledge your small victories in a piece could change your attitude and you might end up with a worse result.

“Like this?”

“Well, maybe not always like this but it’s the best I’ve got for now.” Taehyung said with a shrug and smile. Taehyung felt very strange as he was aware he was getting older, more physically than mentally yet nothing much had changed. Maybe because it wasn’t severe yet, it was just getting a little older, that was it. He was showing some small signs yet nothing changed but Taehyung was starting to be more worried and anxious about aging now, sure up until fifty, maybe even sixty, it was not so severe, fine lines and wrinkles, maybe some physical issues but they would be minor. Yet the age where it would really start to notice was growing closer and closer and he did start to feel anxious about how much he would change, he was scared of being incapable of taking care of himself, afraid of health issues that might come along and he was just becoming afraid of his shrinking time with Jungkook.

“To your not yet made song.” Jungkook laughed as their glasses clinked together.

-8-

Taehyung was more tired these days, he had always been a very heavy sleeper and always got the amount of sleep that was necessary but this was something different, he needed more sleep. He started to be more tired once the clock went past ten, it wasn’t necessarily changing his entire life but it was one of the few things he started to notice, small changes again. Yet again it was nothing too extreme but it were just things he noticed after being the same for such a long time.

Jungkook had made his song, it had gone viral everywhere to the point where he had even gotten some emails from entertainment companies, Jungkook was considering it. Taehyung understood why, it was a very useful push to assist him, it could basically make his entire career if he got through a while of being a trainee, whether he would end up as a solo artist or in a group, he’d at least have a few years of a guaranteed career ahead of him.

Yoongi had been fiercely against it, in part because he was genuinely a little selfish and wanted to keep working with Jungkook himself instead of letting him be owned by some company but Yoongi had brought up the very important point about artistic liberty, it varied per company of course but Jungkook would lose a lot of creative freedom probably, it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t be allowed to do anything but they needed to make songs which needed to sell and sometimes that meant shallow songs that sounded better, it happened. Taehyung knew it was about performing with Jungkook but Taehyung also noticed how much songwriting had helped him, how it was his creative outlet like painting was Taehyung’s.

“Kookie, it’s up to you okay. I don’t like to say this but I won’t be around much longer, you just need to consider both options but I suggest always doing what your heart says.” Jungkook nodded yet he seemed just as insecure as he had before. Taehyung noticed Jungkook really struggled with this choice, he did his best tow remind him it wouldn’t dictate the world, wouldn’t make the future be set in stone because he could always change things up.

“How are you feeling? I mean we’re always talking about me but we should focus on you.” Taehyung shrugged.

“We’re together, we focus on each other an equal amount of time.”

Jungkook smiled but was clearly in disagreement with Taehyung.

“How are you, really?”

Taehyung let out a sigh, his arm hurt out of nowhere, not badly but just in an annoying way. How lovely it was to grow older.

“I’m okay, for now. Really, I am. I’m just scared, insecure and worried.” Taehyung said it calmly, he was a bit worried but he was quite good at dealing with that, he just reminded himself some things were out of his control, there were things that would happen if he hated them or not and he slowly worked towards fully accepting them. It would take some time but it would end up well. “I’m worried there will be a point where I’m too old to do the things I love, that I can’t take care of myself anymore, worried I won’t be able to finish what I started. I’m not insecure because I look older, it’s just scary, all the physical complications that come along with growing so much older after a century of being the same person.”

It felt good to say out loud, it didn’t feel like a weight had disappeared but he felt more comfortable as he let himself slouch a little. Jungkook looked sympathetic and Taehyung knew he understood him, sure it wasn’t that close in his future but the general fear of becoming older, incapable of doing what you can now is everyone’s fear, or at least Taehyung assumed it was a very common fear. You go from completely dependent to independent, it’s hard to let go of that independence.

“Are you afraid I’ll have to take care of you?” Taehyung nodded.

“In the gross way, you know what I mean.” Jungkook let out a small chuckle.

“I wouldn’t mind, maybe a little. Depends, but i’ll always love you. Even if you are soggy and grey and old.”

“Thanks, that helped a lot kook.”

“I love you too.”

Taehyung felt eternally grateful for his soulmate, it had taken decades to meet him and their time was very short lived but it was enough for his life time, just to have a soulmate who would stay with him throughout the process of him growing older and older until something would give out and he would die. It was the cycle of life, he was past the middle now and nearing the end.

-8-

The brush fell out of his hand, a grave black mark on the spotless floor. Taehyung’s back hurt as he went down to grab it again. Those things had been happening more often, he let things fall out of nowhere and everything hurt as he tried to pick it up again. Jungkook wasn’t here now, Taehyung was happy that the younger wasn’t here to see it. It was embarrassing to him but he pushed through and kept going, the second to last painting. Taehyung had gone fully ‘old man’ by now, his skin was sagging and he felt a lot worse than he had been feeling all the decades that went before this but he pushed through it because he had Jungkook at his side, someone so full of love it was paralysing, it was stunning and so pure.

He continued to paint, pushing his glasses up each minute as they started to slip off of the bridge of his nose. Taehyung let out a soft groan as he mixed colours and went back to painting. This wasn’t what he had intended, the piece was a lot smaller than what Taehyung would’ve liked but his original plan had been way too ambitious for his age, too much work to still possibly be completed so he settled and went with something smaller.

Swapping brushes and he went back to painting again, stepping back for a moment glance. It did look like he wanted it to look so that was definitely one thing that was going in the right way, he smiled and decided to take a break for now. Another thing that had been added to his life, continuous breaks whenever he worked on something because his boy just couldn’t handle it anymore, endless hours of sitting or standing up for work. It took a toll on him, not to mention how tired he often got after working for just a short while, all because he was getting older, it was horrible.

Taehyung felt worse, he felt like crying even though he had no idea why. Jungkook loved him and took care of him, all of it was genuine. Taehyung considered it being because of his age, the aging had been harder on him than he ever considered. Taehyung had accepted it, had been able to accept him aging and went with it because it was nature, he couldn’t fight against it.

Still, he stared at the painting and felt like crying for some reason. He let his body slump, fall back into the couch and took deep breaths, in and out. Taehyung loved life and all that came along with it yet this didn’t really feel like living. This felt like being dragged along because he had to, Taehyung didn’t want to die but living like this was too much of a change for him, there was no time to adjust as he seemed to age a year each day, he didn’t have a long transition period to go from completely self sufficient to someone dependent on others to help him, someone who had to sleep an insane amount of hours yet always felt tired, someone who got exhausted after standing for fifty minutes. Taehyung lived healthily but the change was too much at once for him to handle, it all went too fast.

He felt like giving up until he remembered Jungkook. Sweet, sweet Jungkook.

-8-

Everything was set up, covered in sheets. Jimin had helped him with everything, Taehyung would’ve liked to have done it himself but he had recently acquired a cane, now he depended on it almost fully so Jimin had volunteered. Their entire apartment was cramped now, filled to the brim with Taehyung’s creations.

He heard the door click, Taehyung felt his heart pump as he pushed his glasses up. The door opened and Jungkook stopped before he stepped on inside, visibly stunned.

“What happened? What’s all of this?”

“‘Art and love are the same thing: It’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.’ I don’t know how much longer I have, it’s impossible to predict but I’ve always been an artist and have always chased love, using one to capture the other isn’t that strange when you think about it. A last gift. My last collection.” Taehyung smiled as he pulled one of the sheets off, the piece in front of Jungkook and the first one. It wasn’t a piece of art he had made but just a picture of them on their first date.

Transcendence, made by Kim Taehyung.

The smile was a mix of happiness and sadness, Taehyung experienced both as Jungkook wrapped an arm around him as they went past every single piece. All of it had been made by Taehyung, digital art printed, watercolor, pencil, ink, acrylics and oil, any medium he knew how to work with had been incorporated, even more obscure things like small pieces made entirely out of small pieces of paper, a mozaik. Taehyung had even done some sculpting though nothing too grand as it was quite foreign to him.

Everything passed quickly as the two of them spend the entire day reminiscing about everything that had happened, smiles and tears were combined and shared.

-8-

“Our love, our love was eternal.” Jungkook’s voice faded, drowned out by the immense applause that echoed throughout the stadium. A bright smile on his face as he looked up, a star so bright it burned his eye. Taehyung.

a/n // i have tried my best to make the first bit, the history bit, as accurate as possible but i’m definitely not an expert in any way on korean society so I really just used wikipedia and a few other websites to get a general idea

[marigoldbaker]

adapting

ao3

He should place some sort of advertisement in the paper. Wanted: Childcare for Potential Vampire Slayer; Emotional Support for Watcher.

(in which giles and buffy adjust to living on a hellmouth. well. mostly just giles)

lmao remember when i was talking about how this fic was going to be angsty? that fell tf apart. it has angsty parts but it’s a short fluff piece; one more of these & then i think we might get to some Actual Plot Things!

tagging @theforestlesbian as always <3

Giles had been in Sunnydale for two days when he nearly got jumped by a vampire on his way back from the grocery store, and it was then that he started considering that he'd made a pretty serious mistake coming to an active Hellmouth just to get away from the Council monitor. Keeping Buffy in his care was definitely not as important as keeping Buffy alive, and living here alone with no one to take care of Buffy if anything happened to him was most certainly a bad idea, which was why Giles was panicking at two in the morning and couldn't go to sleep.

Buffy was awake, but not because she'd been crying. Giles, wanting to remind himself of the one certainty in his life, had picked her up and out of her crib while he paced around her bedroom. She seemed somewhat upset by his anxiety, and kept on making concerned little whimpering noises that didn't really alleviate Giles's stress. He should place some sort of advertisement in the paper. Wanted: Childcare for Potential Vampire Slayer; Emotional Support for Watcher.

"You," he said to Buffy with some exhaustion, "need some sort of reliable care that isn’t me, because sooner or later I'll probably get murdered by some sun-resistant vampire. It's California, after all. I expect these people can withstand five thousand bloody degrees of heat even after they’re dead." He bounced Buffy in his arms, trying to distract himself. "I'd give you back to the Council if they weren't likely to just lock you in a room and set up a few magical wards to make sure you don't die before you get Called—"

Buffy began to cry.

Giles felt more than just a little bit horrible for passing his worry to Buffy. Part of him wished he'd just stayed at his desk job in the Council, never mind the shame he'd have brought on his family for not accepting a Potential when offered one. Maybe then Buffy would at least be with someone who could keep her safe, if not happy.

But Giles hated the thought of Buffy being alone—that was why he wanted her to have the chance to meet other children. She was such a social butterfly, always smiling and laughing at complete strangers, and Giles knew that the Council didn't approve of Potentials as mischievous and charismatic as Buffy, and who better to take care of her than someone who had dealt with mischievous, charismatic people on a daily basis back in college—lord, was that only seven years ago? It felt like so much longer.

"Shh," Giles murmured, bouncing Buffy in his arms. "Hush now, dear, everything's all right."

It wasn't, really, but he certainly shouldn't be worrying Buffy. Giles did wish there was a manual for rogue Watchers trying to secretly raise a child instead of prepare a Potential, something with affordable resources and self-help tips. It would be a niche sort of book, certainly, but it'd be better than whatever the hell seemed to be going on with him right now.

Buffy had stopped crying, but she still looked upset. Giles took her tightly curled fist in his hand and hummed an old song his mother might have sung to him, once.

 There were two daycares within Sunnydale city limits, and both were absolutely out of the question when it came to finding safe and affordable care for Buffy. One was two blocks away from a location where new vampires seemed to enjoy going to spend time, and the other had a two-hundred-dollar entrance fee and was located in the distastefully wealthy section of Sunnydale that Giles was trying his hardest to avoid.

Putting an advertisement in the paper did next to nothing except make Giles panic even more about the possibility of the Council finding it and asking questions he wouldn't be able to answer without incriminating himself and losing Buffy. Adding to Giles's panic was his worry that he was creating a negative home environment for Buffy anyway with all this worrying. He couldn't believe he was even thinking this, but he very much missed Los Angeles.

Growing more and more desperate, Giles decided to check out the two-hundred-dollar daycare. He could always dip into his emergency funds, if need be. Perhaps just a little time, enough for him to figure out something more permanent and definite.

"Hgb," said Buffy from her car seat. She'd started to vocalize a bit more precisely as of late, though nothing amounted to an actual word just yet. Currently, she was chewing on the arm of the small cloth doll Giles had bought her back in Los Angeles. She had grown incredibly attached to that doll, even more so than her old baby blanket.

"Right," said Giles with nervous determination, and pulled into the parking lot of Bright Smiles Daycare. In Giles's opinion, that name better suited a dentist's office, not some ridiculously overpriced daycare full of tiny children with extremely wealthy parents.

After getting out of the car, unbuckling Buffy from her car seat, and picking her (and the doll) up, Giles locked the car and surveyed the daycare from outside. It looked quite nice, it was in the part of town that seemed to have quite a lot of mansions, and it was well protected by a solid brick wall with a mural featuring many eerily smiling children painted near the gate. Giles wondered how desperate for childcare parents had to be in order to walk their children past these small painted goblins every day.

Then again, he thought, I seem to be rather desperate myself at this juncture.

"Welcome to Bright Smiles Daycare!" gushed a young woman standing at the door. She was holding a small child in her arms that looked perhaps Buffy's age, if a bit smaller. "You must be Rupert Giles! It's always a pleasure to meet a new member of the Bright Smiles family!"

Stepping into the perfectly symmetrical hallway and neatly organized artwork, Giles was very vividly reminded of the cult he'd had to join as part of an intelligence-gathering mission for the Council. He held Buffy protectively to his chest (Buffy, of course, was at this point very involved with babbling to her doll and didn't really notice) and stepped closer to the woman, inquiring, “Do you, um, have anything to eat?”

“Oh, of course!” said the woman warmly. "We have snacks for you, applesauce for your daughter—"

"Oh, she's not my—" Giles began reflexively, before remembering that he was trying to seem relatively normal to this perfectly nice young woman. "allergic to applesauce," he finished awkwardly. "Which is perhaps very good if that is what you have."

Buffy, taking advantage of her close proximity to the first child her age she’d ever met, threw the cloth doll at the other baby as hard as she could.

"Buffy," said Giles, mortified.

The doll bounced off the other baby’s face, and the other baby began to cry. The woman, whose expression had suddenly changed, said awkwardly, “Cordelia’s parents make very generous donations that help finance most of this daycare. I’m terribly sorry, but if your Buffy doesn’t get along with her, Bright Smiles might not be the best fit for you.”

“No, this is just her way of saying hello,” said Giles helplessly. “I think.”

Buffy was watching Cordelia with a sort of scientific interest. Cordelia seemed wholly unaware of the fact that she was being observed, too focused on crying as loudly as possible.

“I’m so sorry,” said the woman again, “but Bright Smiles can only afford to take on well-behaved and well-mannered children.”

Giles had accounted for the fact that he might not be all that good at finding Buffy a daycare. He hadn’t considered that Buffy might not be all that good at daycare in the first place, and it was very difficult to understand, particularly after spending so much time with Buffy. Buffy was excitable and sweet and, well, perhaps a bit rambunctious, but she was most certainly a lovely young girl that any daycare would be lucky to have, and—and he was still just standing here, not saying anything. “Well,” he said finally. “I’ll just search elsewhere, then. Good day to you.”

“Mr. Giles, we can perhaps discuss—” the woman began, but Giles was already turning and hurrying out of the daycare.

As soon as they were outside of Bright Smiles, Buffy began to wail. Giles turned and saw the woman, struggling with a still-sobbing Cordelia in her arms and Buffy’s doll in one hand. “I really am sorry,” she said apologetically. “We’re just a very exclusive place. We can’t afford—”

“Yes, thank you,” said Giles exhaustedly, and took the doll, handing it to Buffy. Buffy sniffled and stopped crying, going back to her usual pastime of chewing on the doll’s arm. “I expect we’ll need to look elsewhere, at any rate.” Turning, he hurried to the car, unlocking the door and placing Buffy into her car seat before climbing into the backseat himself.

“You’ve made my life very complicated, you know that?” he said softly to Buffy. “It’s rather impressive. You’re quite small, and yet you’ve caused nearly as much upheaval as Eyghon.” This was quite a exaggeration, but Giles just liked talking to Buffy. As of late, she rarely ever paid any attention to him while he talked, and it was strangely endearing. She lived in her own very happy little world.

Giles leaned back into the seat, thinking. It wasn’t just that Buffy had made a bad first impression, it was that he didn’t want Buffy to be in a place where he constantly felt like he was walking on eggshells. He didn’t want Buffy’s daycare to be dependent on how much money he could shell out to cover any misbehaviors, and he got the distinct sense that this was the sort of place that catered to the rich part of Sunnydale. All the parents who wanted an exclusive experience with only the most well-behaved children.

“I feel a bit bad for that Cordelia girl you threw your doll at,” he said to Buffy. “That sort of place seems as though it might not be the kindest.”

“Pshhh,” said Buffy happily.

Really, Giles thought, he needed some guidance, and there was only one resource in which he’d nearly always found consistently good advice.

 Buffy, sitting on the sofa with her beloved cloth doll, watched Giles with a large smile as he entered the room with the third box of books. Giles smiled back, feeling more than a bit reassured by the fact that someone seemed to have steadfast faith in him, even if that someone was a six-month-old who wasn’t well-behaved enough for daycare. “Daycare is rubbish anyway,” he informed her. “I didn’t go to daycare, and look how well I turned out.” He considered this, then winced. “Well. There are plenty of other people who didn’t go to daycare and turned out just fine.”

Buffy held out the cloth doll to Giles.

“Oh—” Giles placed down the box, crossing the room to take the doll from Buffy. “Thank you,” he said very seriously. He knew it was a bit early to start on good manners, but there was a parenting book he’d read recently that said encouragement was extremely beneficial to a growing child. Besides which, he did appreciate the gesture; Buffy didn’t give her doll to just anyone. Buffy did throw her doll at just about anyone, but giving her doll willingly was reserved for only Giles.

Tucking the doll into his front pocket where Buffy could still see it and know it was being taken care of, Giles turned back to the books. He’d brought along a few copies of Watcher journals that the Council had gifted to him, as infant Potentials weren’t generally all that common and the Council seemed to think Giles could use some frames of reference. Giles had been mostly ignoring them out of spite, but quite frankly, he was getting desperate. Perhaps among one of these books he might find some kind of a solution, some Watcher who softened to their Potential and wanted a better life for them.

But after a good two hours spent researching (or, more accurately, one hour spent researching, half an hour spent playing with Buffy—she was such a sweet child, and Giles didn’t want her to feel neglected—and half an hour preparing dinner for the both of them), Giles really hadn’t found anything of use. The Watchers’ diaries were dispassionate and disinterested in their charges, and Giles had the strong sense that these had been specifically selected to encourage a similar mindset for him.

It did make him very aware of one thing, though. These Watchers never really seemed to mention any sort of community or resources, instead putting a specific emphasis on how solitary their lives had become. One Watcher boasted that his Potential’s first encounter with another child didn’t take place until she was eight years old, and even then it was under incredibly controlled circumstances.

“The system is broken,” Giles informed Buffy, and was unexpectedly reminded of Ethan, both of them sprawled in the grass talking lazily about burning the world down. Giles had been frightened, he realized, by what had happened with Eyghon, stumbling to distance himself from rebellion so that no one would ever get hurt again. Choosing to raise Buffy the way he thought would be best was a sideways way of rebelling against the Council without really rebelling against the Council, and it still didn’t really address the actual problems he was creating with his careful approach. He had no real way to make sure Buffy wouldn’t go to another Council operative in the event of his death, no contacts he trusted, no community to fall back on, and he still felt as though impulsive, rebellious behavior was the absolute wrong way to go.

Buffy made a small whining noise and stretched a tiny hand toward the doll in Giles’s pocket. Turning, he absently handed it back to her, but she grabbed plaintively at his hand instead.

“Hello,” said Giles tiredly, managing a smile. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.” He sat down next to her on the couch, thinking. He couldn’t at all handle the idea of hosting some neighborhood get-together to meet people; pretending to be a single father for a long period of time would be difficult when faced with cheerful Americans eating his food. All he really wanted was someone he could reliably count on to take care of Buffy if anything happened to him—

The solution to his problems occurred to him quite abruptly. “Idiot,” said Giles to himself, picking up Buffy and making sure to add for her benefit, “Not you, dear, you’re very smart and let no one tell you otherwise.” Carrying Buffy down the hall to her bedroom, he placed her gently down in her crib before hurrying back to the living room to find a pen and paper.

 “You’re not serious.”

“I assume you received my letter?” said Giles cheerfully.

“We did. We’re calling to inquire what on earth would make you think legally adopting the Potential would be a good idea.” Travers’s voice was clipped and irritable. “That sort of thing makes placing her with another Watcher extremely difficult in the event of your demise. It would be significantly different were she British, but there is only so much we can do in regards to the American legal system.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” said Giles, who was feeling thoroughly proud of himself at the moment. “I simply feel that—well,” here he dropped his voice a bit dramatically, “I’m of the mind that it also makes things more difficult for any family member to step in. You don’t want just anyone swooping in and claiming guardianship of a Potential, Travers, do you?”

On the other side of the room, Buffy noticed a dog outside and started shrieking with delight.

“What on earth is that racket on your end?” Travers demanded.

“Television,” lied Giles, making a shh motion to Buffy (who, as usual, happily ignored him and pressed her hands up against the window while she stared at the dog). “Listen, Travers, I’ve been doing a bit of digging,” this part actually wasn’t a lie, “and this particular Potential has quite a few relatives in this area. I’d move, but I’m taking my research responsibilities quite seriously.”

“Mr. Giles,” said Travers, “tread carefully.”

Giles winced. That didn’t bode well. “I’m sorry?”

“These constant changes in your approach to training your Potential are giving me doubts,” said Travers. “I will support your request to adopt the child and pull a few legal strings, but only because you claim that there is danger of a relative ‘swooping in.’ I hope you understand that you make any more requests and we will conduct a very thorough investigation.”

Giles felt almost dizzy with delight. He did feel awful about using Buffy’s relatives as though they were pieces in some horrible game of chess. But he’d be able to make legal arrangements that would keep Buffy out of the hands of the Council in the event of his death, and that was truly comforting to him.

Buffy, meanwhile, was still very distracted by the dog, which was chasing a squirrel. “Go!” she shouted suddenly, and Giles nearly dropped the phone. “Go go go!”

“Mr. Giles?”

“Go!” Buffy crowed, and hit the window as though watching a high-speed chase.

Giles stared, eyes wide, and a slow, proud smile spread across his face. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Good day, Travers.”

“Good day.”

Giles waited for the click of the receiver before crossing the room to scoop Buffy up. She uttered a whine of protest, peering over his shoulder at the dog and the squirrel. “Go,” she informed Giles sulkily, which did make it a bit unclear as to whether she knew what she was saying was an actual word.

Giles chose to believe that she was just trying to be mysterious. “Yes, it did go,” he agreed. “But you can’t hit the window.”

 To celebrate their small victory, Giles decided to take Buffy on a walk to the nearby park. She’d been mostly cooped up since the daycare incident a few days ago, and he thought they could both do with a bit of fresh air. Besides which, he was more than a little bit proud of the high-quality stroller he’d gotten for Buffy, and he wanted to see if it worked as well as advertised.

Buffy was always very happy about getting dressed and going outside; she was a very sweetly cheerful little thing. Carefully buttoning Buffy’s tiny sweater, Giles lifted her up and into the stroller, tucking her doll in with her. “Now, if we meet any new children, kindly try not to throw things,” he instructed her.

Buffy smiled. It was very clear that she had no qualms about throwing things.

They lived in a refreshingly shady part of Sunnydale. Giles was not at all fond of the sun that the town’s name advertised, and very much missed the chill of England. Buffy very clearly loved the sun, but was willing to settle for the breeze and shade that the many trees in their neighborhood allowed. It was pleasant, Giles had to admit, and very lovely to walk with an excitable Buffy in her stroller (who had just seen a pigeon and was babbling happily in its direction) without all that many plans for the day. It felt like the sort of break he needed after the panic of their first week in Sunnydale.

“Do you suppose things will settle down?” Giles asked Buffy, stopping the stroller to peer down at her.

Buffy gave him a very irritated look, crossed her arms, and said, “Go.”

“You’re quite a demanding little girl, aren’t you,” said Giles affectionately, and went back to pushing the stroller.

[euromaidanpress]

On July 22, a court in Russia’s Karelia region sentenced 64-year-old historian Yuri Dmitriev. The man was found guilty of sexual assault against his adopted daughter and sentenced to 3.5 years in prison – most of which he has already served in a pre-trial detention center.

The historian himself, his colleagues, and many human rights activists believe the persecution is politically-motivated linked to his professional activities. Dmitriev dealt with one of the most inconvenient secrets of Russian history – the mass repressions of the Soviet Union.

This is not the first time the man was tried behind closed doors. In 2018, he already experienced Russian “justice.” Then, in a similar case of “producing pornography”, the historian was acquitted. But then the persecution was relaunched.

In Russia, several hundred public figures and artists supported Dmitriev. […]

Ukrayinska Pravda asked Ukrainian human rights activists to tell about Yuri Dmitriev, his work, persecution, and why Ukraine should support the Russian historian.

Who is Yuri Dmitriev

Tetyana Pechonchyk, Chairwoman of the Board of the ZMINA Human Rights Center

Yuri Dmitriev is a Russian researcher of the history of political terror in the USSR, a human rights activist, and the head of the Karelian Memorial Human Rights Center.

He devoted more than 30 years of his life to studying the history of the Gulag and Stalin’s repressions in Karelia. Dmitriev searched for burials, compiled lists of those executed, and restored their biographies. Since 1997, five Books of Remembrance with such lists have been published.

Among the places of mass burials found by the historian are Sandarmokh in the Medvezhyegorsk district of Karelia, the largest execution ground in Karelia in 1937-38.

In the autumn of 1937 alone, 1111 prisoners of the Solovetsky Special Prison, including many Ukrainians, were shot dead in Sandarmokh.

Among them are Mykola Kulish, Les Kurbas, Mykola Zerov, Valerian Polishchuk, Antin Krushelnytsky with his two sons, Myroslav Irchan, Hryhoriy Epik and others. For a long time their burial place was unknown.

Read more: Ukrainians in Russia remember Ukraine’s massacred elite

Thanks to Dmitriev’s efforts, Sandarmokh was transformed into a memorial complex. Every year on August 5, he organized a rally there in memory of the victims of the Great Terror, which brought together people from different countries, including Ukraine.

After Dmitriev’s arrest, rallies dedicated to the memory of those massacred at Sandarmokh continued to be held. Photos: 5 August 2018, 7×7-journal.ru

[box]However, in recent years, the Russian ruling elite’s attitude to the legacy of Stalinism changed significantly.[/box]

Memorial, an organization that restores the memory of Stalin’s repressions, was declared a foreign agent and fined millions of rubles. Its activists in various regions of Russia have been prosecuted.

Shortly before Dmitriev’s arrest in 2016, Memorial compiled and published on the Internet a database of Soviet security officials during the Great Terror. Dmitriev and his colleagues did a great deal of work to establish the names, surnames, ranks, places of service, and other data of Soviet state security officers in the 1930s.

Shortly after the database was made public, Memorial began receiving threats and explicit “recommendations” to close the project.

Dmitriev dealt with one of the most inconvenient secrets of Russian history – the mass repressions of the Soviet Union. Photo: RFE/RL

Also in 2016, the Russian state media began to actively disseminate a version that those buried in Sandarmokh are allegedly not victims of repression, but Soviet prisoners of war shot by Finns during World War II.

After Dmitriev’s arrest, in 2018 and 2019, the pro-government organization Russian Military History Society began excavations in Sandarmokh. The work was allegedly aimed at finding “the burials of prisoners of Finnish concentration camps and fallen soldiers of the Workers and Peasants Red Army in the battles against the Finnish occupiers in Karelia in 1941-1944.”

This happened despite Finland long ago handing over to Russia and publishing archival data on the burial of all 19 000 Soviet prisoners of war who died in Finnish captivity.

Thus, the fabricated criminal case against historian and human rights activist Yuri Dmitriev is yet another proof of the Russian authorities’ attempts to rewrite history and silence the voices of those who ask uncomfortable questions.

“I manage – not often, but sometimes – to find places of mass human tragedies. I connect them with names and try to make a place of memory in this place because memory is what makes a person human,” Dmitriev said on July 8 in his last word before being sentenced in a Petrozavodsk court.

What the Russian authorities accused Dmitriev of and how the trial went

Maria Tomak, co-coordinator of the Media Initiative for Human Rights

When you look at the trial of the Karelian historian, certain parallels between the Soviet era and the post-Soviet period come to mind. It is hard to imagine something more destructive than accusations of pedophilia for a person whose main life capital is his reputation.

It is not very convenient to write about the process without having access to documents and without attending court hearings. Therefore, our idea of ​​Yuri Dmitriev’s case is based on Russian liberal sources.

After the acquittal in the first case in April 2018, some in the liberal community were close to announcing a new “thaw” [like in the times of late Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev – Ed]. But soon the prosecutor’s office protested, and the Supreme Court of Karelia overturned the decision of the first instance.

So appeared the second case, the preparation for which, according to Novaya Gazeta, began already on the day of the verdict.

After the appearance of the first case, the elderly historian spent more than a year in the pre-trial detention center. Now he has been in custody again for more than two years – since June 2018.

The set of articles in his cases that eventually were merged into one is very serious and can shock the untrained reader. They concern the abuse of minors and their use for the production of pornography, illegal possession of weapons, sexual violence against a child [in the end, the historian was found guilty only under the last article – Ed].

The first case is based on photos of his adopted daughter, who was photographed without clothes, found on the historian’s computer.

As Dmitriev explains, it is a kind of insurance that guardianship

As Dmitriev himself explains, this is a kind of insurance so that the child protection authorities do not take the child away from him on contrived grounds, demanding basically ransom, as it happens in Russia.

That is, the father regularly recorded that there were no injuries or bruises on the child’s body, and also monitored the development of the girl who had a number of illnesses after living in an orphanage.

[box]At the same time, as Memorial points out in its analysis, the photos found in Dmitriev’s computer “were not processed, not printed, were not shown to anyone, were not transmitted to anyone, were not distributed on the Internet and were not published anywhere. Strangers, objects, demonstrations, or imitations of any action are absent in all the photographs, Dmitriev himself is not present in the frame.”[/box]

It was in this case that the historian was initially acquitted until there a “reinforcement” arrived at the prosecutor’s office.

The second case was opened at the request of the girl’s grandmother, who was the one who once handed the child over to an orphanage.

The statement was later supplemented by interrogations of the intimidated and traumatized child herself. According to experts, she was pressured to receive the necessary answers, and the girl was also asked leading questions.

The historian himself, his colleagues, and many human rights activists consider the persecution to be political and linked to professional activities. Photo: livejournal

No independent examination conducted in both trials confirmed the terrible accusations against Dmitriev. And the summary of the second case is well stated in the material of Novaya Gazeta:

“Did Dmitriev touch his foster daughter’s crotch? Yes. Did he do it because of pedophile disorders or some criminal intent? No, he did it to check whether the clothes are dry when he heard the smell of urine, which is confirmed by three commission examinations of Dmitriev himself and an epicrisis [a judgment about the patient’s condition – Ed) regarding the girl’s urinary incontinence.”

Nevertheless, the prosecutor’s office demanded 15 years in jail for the historian.

The four-year story of this persecution contains a full set of trademarks of Soviet political cases. The first “anonymous report” which launched the first case, a secret search without the homeowner and witnesses, cellmates who, being pressured by threats, tried to force Dmitriev to admit his guilt, the participation of propaganda media in the campaign against Dmitriev.

And finally – the accusations themselves, which are aimed if not at putting a person behind bars, then definitely at devastating discreditation and resemble the old Soviet intelligence technique called the “rotten herring.”

At the same time, it seems that few people are interested in what the child is going through, the very child who the law enforcement officers, courts, and state officials are so determined to defend.

The girl is now 11 years old, she lived in Dmitriev’s family for eight years. The man himself grew up in an orphanage and carefully prepared for adoption and scrupulously followed the rules.

Since 2016, the girl is again under the control of the child protection authorities. Her nude photos were shown live on state propaganda media. She was subjected to psychological pressure by the entire state Leviathan to obtain “evidence” for the case against her father.

Various versions have been voiced about what triggered the case. For example, Novaya Gazeta links it to the former head of the FSB department in Karelia, Major General Anatoly Seryshev.

The Kremlin does not simply want to stop Yuri Dmitriev from investigating Stalin’s repressions. It wants to disgrace the very name of the 64-year-old historian. Photo: DW

Memorial believes the case may be part of a campaign to pressure and discredit their center.

This seems logical given the numerous fines for violating the law on “foreign agents” that have befallen the organization in recent years, along with other pressure from the government.

And here, in fact, it is very difficult to understand what irritates the Kremlin more: Memoria’s work with historical memory or their support of modern political prisoners, including Ukrainian ones.

Adding weight to the assumption that the case was initiated or approved at the highest level is the participation of key Russian propaganda media in the campaign. Propagandists from NTV, for example, even discussed “the preparation of Dmitriev’s escape to Poland,” although he does not own a travel passport.

What can we do?

Perhaps in this sense, the most important thing that Ukraine can do is to implement the project of creating an archive of Soviet punitive services as quickly and efficiently as possible. Because these archives are one of the keys to understanding the roots of the current Russian regime.

In an interview, Dmitriev said that while in Sandarmokh, he heard “either a groan or a rustle of the wind: remember me, and me, and me.”

Apparently, the same moan is heard by both Russian security forces and the Kremlin. To silence the voice of the historian means for them to silence all these voices from the past that can tell the truth about the nature of Russian autocracy today.

Why Ukraine should defend Yuri Dmitriev

Oleksandra Matviychuk, Chairwoman of the Board of the Center for Civil Liberties, who launched a flashmob in support of Dmitriev on Ukrainian Facebook

The Kremlin is instrumentalizing history and using it instead of state ideology.

The narrative “we can repeat it” shapes an attitude to war as a “holiday of victory,” while the memory of the millions of dead and unborn is being blurred. And the mantra of Stalin as an “effective manager” portrays mass repression as “necessary in that historical time.”

Unfortunately, people do not understand that by justifying the crimes of the communist regime, they return to these “historical times.” This means that they will soon become victims themselves.

Yuri Dmitriev did not simply bring back from oblivion the names of thousands of Ukrainians shot during the Stalinist terror. He searched for burial sites for more than 30 years and compiled lists of the dead in Sandarmokh and Krasnyy Bor. And this was enough to challenge the authoritarian regime in Russia.

The Kremlin is desperately trying to erase the “uncomfortable truth” to replace it by its propaganda concepts. It must not simply deprive Yuri Dmitriev of the opportunity of continuing to investigate Stalin’s repression. The very name of the 64-year-old historian should be disgraced.

[box]The trial of Yuri Dmitriev is a trial of Ukraine’s right to historical memory.[/box]

Ukrainians have already felt the effects of the Kremlin’s attack on historical memory.

In 2014, Russia launched armed aggression and occupied Crimea and part of Donbas. The other day in Luhansk, a bas-relief of [Ukrainian poet] Taras Shevchenko was knocked down from the entrance to the university, and the city of Donetsk was renamed into Stalino a month ago, and now this name will be used in parallel with the existing one. It’s not a coincidence.

Read more: Stalin-era city names to be used in occupied Donetsk, Luhansk as part of “great victory” cult

It so happens that the memory of the dead protects the living. And we must speak in defense of Yuri Dmitriev, who brought back to us the memory of the thousands killed during the Great Terror. That’s why I and like-minded people launched the flash mob #UkraineStandWithDmitriev which you can join as well.

Read more about Dmitriev and the trial:

Gandalf’s case: Russia prosecutes man literally digging up its darkest Gulag secrets

Why Ukraine should support Yuri Dmitriev, Russian historian unearthing Stalin’s repressions On July 22, a court in Russia’s Karelia region sentenced 64-year-old historian Yuri Dmitriev. The man was found guilty of sexual assault against his adopted daughter and sentenced to 3.5 years in prison - most of which he has already served in a pre-trial detention center.

[mercerislandbooks]

Fall Book Preview 2018

It was a tough year for journalists with the rise of fake news, presidential name-calling, layoffs, and increasing threats worldwide. Authors, on the other hand, wrote from a safer position. They had the luxury of hiding longer in their offices. Writers and editors had a better chance of stepping back from the brutal news cycle and taking the longer view. 

That time to breathe was a good thing. The book publishing industry’s deeper immersion in its work will be on full display this fall, which promises to be a good one for book junkies. From political exposés to psychological suspense to locally-inspired cookbooks to iconic memoirs, I’m not exaggerating when I tell you our fall tables will be a reader’s feast. Here’s a small sliver of what’s coming, and a few special preorder perks you’ll want to know about.

Lake Success by Gary Shteyngart (Sept 4): Narcissistic, hilariously self-deluded, and divorced from the real world as most of us know it, hedge-fund manager Barry Cohen oversees $2.4 billion in assets. Deeply stressed by an SEC investigation and by his three-year-old son’s diagnosis of autism, he flees New York on a Greyhound bus in search of a simpler, more romantic life with his old college sweetheart. Meanwhile, his super-smart wife, Seema—a driven first-generation American who craved the picture-perfect life that comes with wealth—has her own demons to face. How these two flawed characters navigate the Shteyngartian chaos of their own making is at the heart of this piercing exploration of the 0.1 Percent, a poignant tale of familial longing and an unsentimental ode to what really makes America great.

Fear: Trump in the White House by Bob Woodward (Sept 11): With authoritative reporting honed through eight presidencies from Nixon to Obama, author Bob Woodward reveals in unprecedented detail the harrowing life inside President Donald Trump’s White House and precisely how he makes decisions on major foreign and domestic policies. Woodward draws from hundreds of hours of interviews with firsthand sources, meeting notes, personal diaries, files and documents. The focus is on the explosive debates and the decision-making in the Oval Office, the Situation Room, Air Force One and the White House residence.

Cooking from Scratch: 120 Recipes for Colorful, Seasonal Food from PCC Community Markets by PCC Community Markets (Sept 18): Eating healthy, local food prepared from scratch is at the heart of this cookbook from PCC Community Markets. Going strong for sixty-five years, they are respected and appreciated throughout our area for their commitment to local producers, sustainable food practices, and healthful, organic seasonal foods. You will find 120 recipes organized for every meal of the day, including many of PCC's most popular dishes, such as their treasured Emerald City Salad. The book also includes cooking, storing, and shopping tips—everything you need to know to make the most of the local bounty.

Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke in the Richest Country on Earth by Sarah Smarsh (Sept 18): During Sarah Smarsh’s turbulent childhood in Kansas in the 1980s and 1990s, the forces of cyclical poverty and the country’s changing economic policies solidified her family’s place among the working poor. By telling the story of her life and the lives of the people she loves, Smarsh challenges us to look more closely at the class divide in our country and examine the myths about people thought to be less because they earn less. Combining memoir with powerful analysis and cultural commentary, Heartland is an uncompromising look at class, identity, and the particular perils of having less in a country known for its excess.

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green (Sept 25): In his much-anticipated debut novel, Hank Green spins a sweeping, cinematic tale about a young woman who becomes an overnight YouTube celebrity before realizing she's part of something bigger, and stranger, than anyone could have possibly imagined. Both entertaining and relevant, An Absolutely Remarkable Thing grapples with big themes, including how the social internet is changing fame, rhetoric, and radicalization; how our culture deals with fear and uncertainty; and how vilification and adoration spring from the same dehumanization that follows a life in the public eye.

***If you preorder An Absolutely Remarkable Thing from us before September 24th, you’ll receive an exclusive enamel pin as long as supplies last.

Transcription by Kate Atkinson (Sept 25): In a dramatic story of WWII betrayal and loyalty, eighteen-year old Juliet Armstrong is reluctantly recruited into the world of espionage. Sent to an obscure department of MI5 tasked with monitoring the comings and goings of British Fascist sympathizers, she discovers the work to be by turns both tedious and terrifying. But after the war has ended, she presumes the events of those years have been relegated to the past forever. Ten years later, now a radio producer at the BBC, Juliet is unexpectedly confronted by figures from her past. A different war is being fought now, on a different battleground, but Juliet finds herself once more under threat. 

The Fifth Risk by Michael Lewis (Oct 2): What are the consequences if the people given control over our government have no idea how it works? "The election happened," remembers Elizabeth Sherwood-Randall, then deputy secretary of the Department of Energy. "And then there was radio silence." Across all departments, similar stories were playing out: Trump appointees were few and far between; those that did show up were shockingly uninformed about the functions of their new workplace. Some even threw away the briefing books that had been prepared for them. Michael Lewis’s narrative takes us into the engine rooms of a government under attack by its own leaders. If there are dangerous fools in this book, there are also heroes, unsung, of course. They are the linchpins of the system―those public servants whose knowledge, dedication, and proactivity keep the machinery running. Michael Lewis finds them, and he asks them what keeps them up at night.

Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami (translated by Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen) (Oct 9): A tour de force of love and loneliness, war and art—as well as a loving homage to The Great Gatsby, Murakami’s latest follows a thirty-something portrait painter in Tokyo abandoned by his wife and holed up in the mountain home of a famous artist. When he discovers a previously unseen painting in the attic, he unintentionally opens a circle of mysterious circumstances. To close it, he must complete a journey that involves a mysterious ringing bell, a two-foot-high physical manifestation of an Idea, a dapper businessman who lives across the valley, a precocious thirteen-year-old girl, a Nazi assassination attempt during World War II in Vienna, a pit in the woods behind the artist’s home, and an underworld haunted by Double Metaphors. 

***If you preorder Killing Commendatore from us by October 8th, you’ll receive a free exclusive tote bag as long as supplies last.

The Witch Elm by Tana French (Oct 9): Toby is a happy-go-lucky charmer who's dodged a scrape at work. He’s out celebrating with friends when the night takes a turn that will change his life—he surprises two burglars who beat him and leave him for dead. Struggling to recover from his injuries, beginning to understand that he might never be the same man again, he takes refuge at his family's ancestral home to care for his dying uncle Hugo. Then a skull is found in the trunk of an elm tree in the garden and as detectives close in, Toby is forced to face the possibility that his past may not be what he’s always believed. 

Almost Everything: Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott (Oct 16): "All truth is paradox," Lamott writes, "and this turns out to be a reason for hope. If you arrive at a place in life that is miserable, it will change. That is the time when we must pledge not to give up but "to do what Wendell Berry wrote: 'Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.'" In her profound and funny style, Lamott calls for each of us to rediscover the nuggets of hope and wisdom that are buried within us that can make life sweeter than we ever imagined. Divided into short chapters that explore life's essential truths, Almost Everything pinpoints these moments of insight as it shines an encouraging light forward.

Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver (Oct 16): Willa Knox has always prided herself on being the embodiment of responsibility for her family. Which is why it’s so unnerving that she’s arrived at middle age with nothing to show for her hard work but a stack of unpaid bills and an inherited brick home in Vineland, New Jersey, that is literally falling apart. The dilapidated house is also home to her ailing father-in-law and her two grown children: her stubborn, free-spirited daughter, Tig, and her debt-ridden son Zeke, who has arrived with his unplanned baby in the wake of a life-shattering development. In an act of desperation, Willa investigates the history of her home, hoping that the local historical preservation society might fund the direly needed repairs. Through her research, Willa discovers a kindred spirit from the 1880s, Thatcher Greenwood. A science teacher with a lifelong passion for honest investigation, Thatcher finds himself under siege in his community for telling the truth: his employer forbids him to speak of the exciting new theory recently published by Charles Darwin. Unsheltered is the story of two families, in two centuries, who live at the corner of Sixth and Plum, as they navigate the challenges of surviving a world in the throes of major cultural shifts. 

Becoming by Michelle Obama (Nov 13): As First Lady of the United States of America—the first African-American to serve in that role—Michelle Obama helped create a welcoming and inclusive White House, established herself as a powerful advocate for women and girls in the U.S. and around the world, changed the ways that families pursue healthier and more active lives, and stood with her husband as he led America through some of its most harrowing moments. Along the way, she showed us a few dance moves, crushed Carpool Karaoke, and raised two down-to-earth daughters under an unforgiving media glare. In her memoir, Michelle chronicles the experiences that have shaped her, from her childhood on the South Side of Chicago to her years as an executive balancing the demands of motherhood and work to her time spent at the world’s most famous address. 

–Miriam